Parking Lot Prayers

The greatest tragedy in life is not unanswered prayer, but unoffered prayer. (F.B. Meyer)

The habit of not praying is far more difficult to break than the habit of praying. (Philip Yancey

When Art and Dolly told me that they always prayed for parking spots--and that they had never been disappointed--I simply smiled and nodded. I didn't ask if they felt guilty about cluttering up God's inbox with their petty parking petitions when they might instead have chosen to bring him a request for--oh, I don't know--world peace. I didn't challenge them to explain why God would take the time to cut down their walk to the front doors of Wal-Mart when he apparently hadn't been able to fit the healing of a friend from church into his ca lander. I didn't ask. In fact, I didn't even raise an eyebrow.

But a part of me wanted to.

I know that I'm supposed to be all for prayer (no matter what it's about)--especially since I'm a preacher and all. But even so, there was something about the way the lovely old couple phrased things there in their doily-filled living room that I found unsettling at the time. It seemed to me that somebody in the prayer equation had their priorities mixed up. Either Art and Dolly did (because they were content to offer up petitions about one of the more trivial matters in life and were neglecting (I assumed) the weightier things). Or God did (because he was so busy managing parking lots that he couldn't seem to be bothered with world hunger and genocide). It would be better, I thought, if we didn't bother God with parking spots or Settlers games or even head colds at all. After all, all of us--and God especially--have more important things to worry about.

Well, last Monday, while my legs dangled from the ski lift and I scrunched my shoulders up against the cold, I found myself praying that my car would start. I didn't mean to--honest. It just happened. I sat there on the lift, thinking about the drive home--hoping that I wouldn't
have to find someone to give me a push start in the parking lot like I had the previous week.* And the prayer just happened. Dear God, please, please, please, let it start today... For the most part, it was a silent prayer. But every now and then, I may have muttered my plea into the pulled up collar of my winter coat.

I felt rather silly about it at the time. After all, I knew there were many other things I should be using my time to pray for. Even as I muttered that prayer for my car, my iPod was piping into my ear an NPR news story about genocide and child soldiers in some far away corner of the world. Shouldn't I pray about that instead? It sounds strange to say it, but suddenly I found myself feeling guilty about praying.

That incident has run through my mind nearly every time I've tried to start my vehicle the past week (which has worked every time, by the way). And I've concluded that, the next time I'm in the mountains and am worried about the car starting, I'll probably pray about it. Here are a few reasons why:

• God invites us to pray (and is offended when we don't). He apparently likes to be asked--even for seemingly mundane things like daily bread and dependable automobiles.
• Every action (or nearly every action) is habit forming. Every choice not to pray moves me toward a life of non-prayer. Every choice to pray moves me toward a life of prayer.
• Furthermore, when I pray for the "little" things, I'm reminded to pray for the "big" things. And when I learn to trust God with those "little" things, I'm a step closer to trusting him with those "big" things.
• Prayer helps us learn to see reality more clearly. More specifically, it helps me see that God is a apart of my reality. He is at work in my world and in my life--no matter how big or how small the issue may be.

Does all that mean I'm planning on always getting a good parking space or a life free from car trouble? Not likely. But it does mean that I believe God hears me--and wants to hear from me. And for that, I'm grateful.

*Actually, I didn't even need to find them. I prayed that God would help me get my vehicle started then too, and these kind folks showed up and offered a hand. Coincidence? Or providence?