Super-Glue or Post It Notes?

 

In 1968, chemist Spencer Silver focused on developing an ultra-strong adhesive for use in airplane construction.  He failed at that attempt, and instead created a pressure sensitive adhesive weak enough to pull on and off repeatedly without tearing paper.

Six years later, Arthur Fry, a chemical engineer also at 3M, used that weak adhesive to keep bookmarks from falling out of his hymnal when he sang in the church choir.  Eventually the company became convinced of its universal use.  By 1980, the adhesive was used on tiny pieces of paper, marketed as Post It Notes.  They stick, but not too much, both movable and removable.

 

By definition, Post It Notes are not designed to last forever, but serve as a reminder, flagging a thought, a page, or an appointment.  But over time, its short-lived adhesive is just that:  a temporary fix.   Sadly Post It Notes are how most of us view prayer.  We just stick a prayer on a request or a situation, like a casual “I’ll pray for you!” We pray, and sometimes we don’t.   We consider prayer with a temporary stickiness, lasting awhile perhaps, until it falls off our radar.

But long after we think our prayer post-it-notes are lost, or blown away in the wind, or no longer applicable, God does not forget.  Little do we realize, but our prayers have an ultra-strong adhesive quality.  God brings His supernatural strength and His enduring grip to it.  Prayer has no past tense, but vibrant in the context of a much bigger narrative, a super-glue resistance.  God works much deeper than abridged singular outcomes.  Only eternal ones.

The past, present and future are inexplicable and inextricable, because God is not limited by time. When we do pray, prayers stick.

This past week, I received a text from an excited friend that her son just received a new job nearby.  I had nearly forgotten that we had prayed for him, now many months ago.

But God didn’t.

Prayers stick, even far beyond our lifetimes.  Would we pray differently if we realized that?  Do we believe if we prayed, it would make an eternal difference?  Praying is always a long game. We just don’t grasp the enormity of it.

A godly Dutch watchmaker in 1844 started a prayer meeting dedicated to pray for the well-being of the Jewish community in his town.  Exactly one hundred years later, in 1944, Corrie ten Boom and her family were arrested and imprisoned for saving hundreds of Jewish lives and hiding Jews in their home. That man who committed to praying was Corrie’s grandfather Willem who died in 1891,the year before she was born. Little did he know how profoundly his prayer would impact his immediate family, his community, and the unfolding of an ongoing story.

The strength of prayer is not found in our own trying harder or praying more, but in God’s response to our coming before Him.  It is in the act of praying that our hearts are changed, but not God’s.  “Not my will but Yours.”  When we pray, we realize that the super-glue of prayer does not belong to us, but His strong hold on us, as God “gives us a secure hold within His holy place.”  Ezra 9. 8

Praying is not about answers after all, but the deepening of our relationship with Him and knowing His tenacious hold on us.  The psalmist recognizes “Nevertheless I am continually with You; You hold my right hand.”  Psalm 73. 23

God doesn’t forget.  He never does.  Our prayers are precious to Him.

….and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints.  Revelation 5. 8

And God makes sure they stick.

Tires Go Flat, Even In The Center of God's Will

 

A friend drove last weekend to a writing retreat, traveling some 800 miles from Minnesota, through the wilderness known as the Great Midwest, cornfields, cows, and little gas station convenient stores. She packed her coat, snacks, a sleeping bag, if needed.  And she asked many to pray for her trip.  A travel prayer shield was snapped into place.

But about halfway on her journey, on desolate state route 218 in Missouri, a small light popped up on her dashboard to indicate a low tire.  And then within a few miles, that circle of rubber was dead flat.  She saw an exit sign a mile ahead.  Hope appeared on a green sign bearing a stark image of a gas pump.  She thought if she got there, she could just fill the tire with air.  But there was no resurrection for this lifeless piece of rubber.

And no sign of life at the gas station either.

Across the road, she pulled into the gravel parking lot for an out-of-season fireworks stand, the only other structure at that exit, a car parked out front.  No problem, she would put on the spare tire and be on her way.  She emptied the contents of her car to reach the spare and its accompanying tools.  But a tiny piece was missing that would remove the lug nuts of the damaged tire.  She looked under seats, floor mats, and crevices.  But it was not to be found.

She had not planned on this unexpected stop.  We never do.  We can scope out a trip to the n-th degree, pray through our plans, keep within the speed limit, and be right in the middle of God’s will, and still get a flat tire.   

God’s will is not a sweet spot where nothing goes awry.  Just because it is not in our expected plans does not mean things are going wrong. 

We need not pray away what God may be doing in our lives (or someone else’s) -- or how He is redeeming it.

The devotional Streams in the Desert (originally published in 1925) proclaims:  “In the center of the circle of the will of God I stand.”

Things may not be going wrong after all, but tremendously right.  We just can’t see that far.  We just can’t comprehend.  The harrowing pass often holds the most amazing view.

Prayer may not smooth out the hard stuff.  But prayer makes us aware, not just what to do, how to navigate the difficulty, how to accept the situation, but when all has come to pass, realizing His Presence with us.  And trusting Him in the unexpected and unlikely, whether we understand it or not.  We are not alone after all.  Trust means walking even closer.  We can’t find our way out of a paper bag, but God sees all eternity, even profound implications in what we may consider an irritating situation.  In God’s will, there are no interruptions, just divine appointments.  Even with potholes, flat tires, and detours.

With the help of the people in that lonely fireworks stand, she reached a local auto mechanic just down the road who was able to mount the spare.  And she was on her way again.  Three hours later than she anticipated, but perhaps not delayed at all.  That prolonged stop had far deeper purposes than she will ever know.  Our “delays” always do.

Not my will but Yours.    In that prayer, clinging to the center of His will, we can stake our lives.  Because no matter what happens, God is still here to take us through.  God never promised life wouldn’t be hard, or inconvenient, or beyond our abilities, but “Do not fear.  I am with you.” Come to Me.

There was an exit.  There was someone at the exit.  She was not abandoned on the side of the road in the middle of the night.  She arrived safely at her destination, and the next morning a tire shop rectified the problem in less than an hour.  God’s mercies arrive in Costco-sized multi-packs. 

The thing about God’s will is that it impacts a lot more than us. 

Someone chose to go to work that day, not knowing who would come along that road, not knowing if anyone would come in the middle of February, but they made ready anyway, faithful to their little patch of ground.   God uses us like that – to come alongside those on our paths.

 …and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4. 16