God: What about the Power of Third Party Prayer?

“Well, when there’s nowhere to go but up…” was the comment an advocate for atheism made concerning why people feel God working in their lives when they pray. Not only did the comment show the author’s lack of knowledge about the use of prayer—it’s not only used at times of desperation—it also suggested in times of desperation things can’t get any worse when we know of course things can get worse. Another question I’d purposed, after I turned sensitive to his point of view, is, “what about third party prayer”—how can that be psychosomatic?

                I was a junior in high school the first time I know for sure third party prayer affected my life. At my all girls school I stood in front of the lockers as crowds of girls got their things. Clutching the straps of my backpack I hunched over with a permanent scowl on my face. The world was so “UNFAIR!”.  I walked into my English class, my favorite subject, but this particular teacher’s expectations were such an enigma I was getting Cs. Only one girl was in the classroom already. I must have said something grumpy to the girl who was present because I remember her giving me the sympathy I wanted and still I was determined to maintain my scowl. But then she leaned over to me, put her hand on mine, which made me want to flinch, and said, “Can I pray for you?”

It’s not the kind of thing you say no to so I said, “okay” but it never sunk in what that meant and I remember thinking, “yeah, like that will help.” As I expected, the bell rang for next period and as class proceeded I was slouched in my seat, the bitterness inside me burning through all the hope. I went about my life, woke up at 6am was at school till 3:15pm then homework till midnight. Friday after school I’d take a nap till dinner, eat, then watch the two TV shows I recorded. Saturday’s were for homework. Sunday’s for church and more homework. Then the week would start over and I’d do it all again. I did it again and again. The bitterness, the scowl remained.

Then one day, my claws, which dug into the depression I was experiencing, suddenly retracted, as if without my doing. I realized my English teacher, despite my desire to be a novelist, did not determine my future, I would do my best and if that wasn’t good enough, I would be just fine. I immediately started to feel better and that feeling, though I could have run to my corner and dug my claws back into depression—the unfairness of the world was still present—for some reason I couldn’t be brought down.

                Then, one day even though we hadn’t interacted much, the same girl, who’d asked if she could pray for me, asked how I was. Her tone suggested she was still sympathetic of my sorrow. She hadn’t forgotten.

I told her, “I’m great!” It was all because of her prayers.

So when someone, in regard to the power of prayer says, “oh that’s just psychosomatic”, ask them, “What about third party prayer?”