The first time I went with my friend to her chemo infusion, I couldn’t stop looking at all the people. So much suffering in one building where everyone lines up for the poison that both cures and kills. A lot of bare heads, a lot of face masks, a lot of stubborn, steady hope that this is the answer.
As summer moved to fall and then to winter, I learned the drill of going to chemo with Sue. I cherished our time to sit and talk while medical hope dripped through her veins. In the lonely days that followed her weeks of treatments, I prayed a lot for her healing and for the Lord to sustain her soul in the isolation that comes from a compromised immune system.
When my friend’s white counts began to drop to critical rates, I learned to pray as I never have before. I set a timer on my phone to alert me to pray every hour on the hour. I shared my practice with our church and before I knew it, an army of women were praying around the clock for our dear friend, Sue. Each week, we waited with bated breath for lab reports. When the miraculous increase stunned the doctors, we rejoiced and committed to pray even more. When the counts sank lower than they’d ever been, we wept and buckled down and prayed harder. When the bad cells didn’t decrease after the last infusion, we worried and prayed.
No matter the results, we prayed more and more and more.
The more we prayed, the more we prayed.
One morning last month, I was praying for Sue with a good deal of frustration. Her counts had been at critically low level for weeks and all I could say to the Lord was, “Why don’t You raise her counts?” and “I’m discouraged that You are not responding in the way we want.” But I knew that all I could do for Sue was to continue interceding for her. It’s all any of us can do. And yet, it’s so much more than “all we can do.” Prayer is more than a last-ditch effort. Prayer is war and hope and connection and faithfulness and pleading and sacrifice and confidence.
Prayer is more than a last-ditch effort. Prayer is war and hope and connection and faithfulness and pleading and sacrifice and confidence. Share on X
Slowly, daily, hourly this praying work has effected some kind change in my heart. Though I’m often discouraged when the Lord doesn’t respond how I hoped, I take a step back and try to see the situation with bigger eyes. The Lord is wise, kind, good, and faithful. And if He hasn’t seen fit to raise my friend’s counts, He has purpose in it. I don’t know what He is doing in her suffering, but I know He is using it to teach me to pray with hope, faith, and with a broader sense of what His purposes might be. He keeps me coming back to Him over and over. It’s weird. The more I pray, the more I seem to pray.
On one of those days when I felt tired of asking the Lord to do something He didn’t seem to be doing, He helped me see the miracle I’d missed. During a terrible flu season, He’d sustained Sue with virtually zero immune system. All this time I’d been praying for Him to restore her immunity, complaining to Him when He didn’t. And all this time, He’d been keeping her well when everyone I knew (my family included) had been battling viruses, fevers, colds, flu—illnesses that Sue could not fight had not the Lord hemmed her in.
When I realized His hand had been at work all this time, I took His quiet rebuke with gratefulness. Sometimes I am the you of little faith Jesus addresses so often in the gospels. I’m glad for this correction. It’s not an indictment. It’s a rebuke with hope on the other end. We can always grow in our faith. It’s a hard, slow growth, but it’s growth the Lord is pleased to cultivate. And I think He does this through prayer.
Laboring in prayer is definitely a labor. It’s hard and sometimes feels fruitless. But the labor isn’t fruitless. Prayer is the means by which God chooses to work out His good purposes. Prayer helps me see just how little my faith can be and just how big our God is. Prayer keeps me coming back to Him over and over and over. Praying for others peels back the layers of my dimmed vision and see a little clearer that the Lord is both sovereign and good. Prayer helps me to have confidence in that sovereign goodness when circumstances seem unchanged. Prayer knits me together with others who are praying as I am. The more we pray, the more we seem to pray.
Every Sunday morning, one of our pastors prays for Sue during corporate worship. Every Tuesday morning, our family prayer time at church dedicates some time to pray for her. One of my other church friends told me the other day that a co-worker complained about how often my friend’s phone dinged with an alarm sound throughout the day. Cornered, my friend confessed that she prayed every hour for our friend Sue. The co-worker was surprised and said that she now knew who to go to when she needed prayer. The same church friend’s young daughter recently brought her mom’s phone to her from another room and said, “Mama, I heard your alarm and prayed for Mrs. Sue since you didn’t have your phone with you.”
I don’t know what God is doing in my friend’s suffering, but I know He is doing this: He is teaching Sue’s church to pray. He is teaching young children to pray. He is teaching co-workers that believers pray. And He is changing us.
Last week, Sue received the call we’ve barely dared to hope for. Her bad cells dropped at a miraculous rate and she is preparing for a transplant. We don’t know what the future holds for Sue, but we know that God loves her. And no matter how He has ordered her days, disease will not have the final say over those days. He will. And He has an army of believers who will pray for His good purposes to be accomplished in her life. The more we pray, the more we pray.
When I get down and desperate in intercession, I go to Scripture to remember what a gift this is. In Hebrews 10, believers are encouraged to draw near to God because at the cross, Jesus bought us access to the Father. We can approach God boldly with our requests because Jesus made it possible. When you feel like you can’t keep praying for someone, be encouraged that as you labor in prayer, the Lord is working when you cannot see it. When we draw near to Him in prayer, there’s a glorious side effect: we learn to keep drawing near. We long for it.
In paying for our sins at the cross, Jesus gave us an incredible gift: access to a God who beckons us to come to Him with our requests. So, go to Him with your requests. Go to Him when you’re burdened, when you feel like you’re always the one with little faith, when you are tired of praying. He doesn’t always work as we think He should, but the good news is that He is wise and good and He is at work. Our suffering isn’t wasted, and neither are our prayers. And the more you pray, the more you’ll pray.
Listen to this post:
Audio Player*I’d love for you to join us in praying for my dear friend over the next two months as well as her daughter who is her donor.
*Recommended reading on prayer:
- Prayer by Tim Keller
- Praying Together by Megan Hill
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
