Pray Earnestly By Chelsea O'Rourke
I had lost him. Hands grasping my knees and tears pouring down my face,
I sat in our home office, desperate. Defeated. The weight of it pressed on my heart as I faced the reality of my inability to save him from himself. Sleepovers in my room since we were tiny, pretend games of lion cubs, adventures in the mountains, talks of girls, and growing up. He was my brother, but also my friend. Drugs had won him over. Sleeping and living somewhere in the riverbeds an hour away. I knew I couldn't bring along two toddlers and a baby in a hunt among the homeless and drug addicts searching for him. We'd pass many homeless as we drove by certain areas of the city, and my eyes would scan for the person I once knew.
It's a strange thing grieving the living. "Jesus," I cried out in pain that morning, "I can't reach him, and he doesn't receive my texts or emails. I want him to know that I love him, miss him, and that You, Father, are with him. I'm frustrated, God, and I can't talk with him, find him, or simply tell him I love him. Oh Jesus. I'm unable to do anything." "It's true," He responded. "You cannot do anything in your own strength. He doesn't need you to find him in the riverbed, and he needs me. Pray," he said. "It's not a secondary action to take when you are in a place out of options, and it's the primary form of warfare. And your prayers are powerful."
That morning changed everything.
James 5:16-18 reminds us of the impact of prayer:
"Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man has great power to prevail. Elijah was a man just like us, and he prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth yielded its crops."
Elijah was a man just like us, and he prayed earnestly and the physical realities of earth were altered! We are reminded to do the same thing - pray earnestly- and see the kingdom of God impact and alter the earthly realities of our lives.
In desperation, I cried out to God. I had nowhere else to go. And nothing else I could do for him. So I prayed. Why is prayer so often our last resort, where we go when we are empty and out of options?" The Holy Spirit began to teach me a new way to see prayer - as a powerful, offensive weapon in the kingdom of God. Instead of prayer being the final hope when I am unable to do more, it became front-line warfare. Prayer is a place for gaining ground, with a mindset of power and faith in the one who brings the victory.
My heart entered into prayer as if I were a soldier entering the heat of the battle. He reminded me that prayer is a mysterious, power-filled way of living that moves mountains and sets captives free. During this season, I gathered others around me to fast together and fight on behalf of my brother. We would fast together every Monday for a year, not just for my brother but for the loved ones of others trapped in addiction as well.
Prayer and fasting are not empty spiritual disciplines for monks, nuns, pastors, and spiritual leaders. Prayer and fasting are a power combination reflecting the heart of those hungry for God to move. Knowing the Holy Spirit brings change and victory for those who take a posture of humility. We show up to the battle, but through prayer and fasting, we recognize that He brings the victory. Like Gideon, we obey and ask for help, and the Spirit moves in power to deliver His people. This season birthed another gift in my life. So often, I found a depth of feelings in my Spirit for what I wanted to pray that the words in my head fell short to match.
My desire for Jesus and for Him to reach my brother was more profound than I had words to express. I came to the end of myself yet again, even as I prayed. There was a burning inside that couldn't escape. I asked for the Holy Spirit to intercede with wordless groaning, as Romans 8:26 tells us. And I also asked for my own form of a spiritual wordless language with which to contend and to reflect the internal battle of my heart.
One morning, in my bedroom's privacy and in our savior's presence, I cried out again. In tears, I went to war in prayer. Again my words fell short of my longing. In this private intimate space my Spirit was filled with His and little utterances floated out of my mouth from deep within my soul. It didn't sound like much, and it was more like timid whispers instead of a war cry. But they were whispers of faith, and prayer in faith is a force that moves mountains. Believe this, sister: What we bring to the father with a heart of faith - no matter the size of our mustard seed - has the power to change outcomes and free hearts, and set fires ablaze for the kingdom of God.
Returning to my brother and our Monday fasting, we had officially fasted together just one Monday when my mom called. "Chelsea, he's been arrested." Listen, this isn't really all I had hoped for. I was dreaming more of an instant and permanent miraculous deliverance. His ways are not my own. It may be strange to hear, but this was a relief and an answer to prayer.
During a phone call from jail one day, my brother shared with me how he knew the Monday prayer and fasting were connected to his arrest. It forced sobriety and removed him from a homeless life. It was a reset opportunity for his mind to be cleared. I wish this was the end of the story. That he's been sober ever since and now serves in freedom ministry at a church, but it's not. We are continuing to intercede with scripture, with wordless groans, fasting, and believing in faith for full healing and recovery. Deeper than before, I can enter into seasons of fasting and intercession fueled by faith. Not out of hopeless desperation but a faith-filled dependency on the power only Jesus has to set captives free.
