Letter #3 - The Devil Told Me to Pray

Dear Abba,

I write this, hoping that in knowing the enemy’s tactic, one who has fallen similarly may better guard themselves against it:

5:45 A.M. My alarm clock rang loudly and with purpose. It was not used to beginning its day’s work prior to 6:15 A.M. But unbeknownst to my alarm clock, today was different, I had set it early to begin my day with Christ. To speak to Him, hoping to gain a little grace to sustain me for the day.

The loud ring of the noise was unpleasant at the least; it had disrupted what was otherwise a peaceful sleep. But in the chaos of noise, others spoke. The first spoke softly, speaking encouragements to me, he repeated a phrase, “Arise O you children of the light.” But it fell on deaf ears, ears not accustomed to understanding his cadence or speech. Then another spoke, one whose voice was more powerful, not in strength, but in familiarity, a voice that had spoken many times and spoke comforts to me. A voice that was persistent, waiting at each moment of the day to provide advice on my decisions.

The second voice belonged to one who had been waiting. I despised the alarm, but he waited patiently through the night for it to ring. As my eyes first opened, taking in the dim light of dusk from the window, he simultaneously whispered in my ear, “You have barely rested, the day ahead is long and you must be prepared mentally for it, but prayer is important. So you will pray today, and connect with the Lord, but once you have rested a while longer. You will pray later.” The words he spoke provided a comfort, I was going to have it both, I would rest, and shortly after I would pray; and so, his words in my ears as a lullaby, I closed my eyes just as quickly as they had opened.

Then came the back-up alarm, and the back-up back-up alarm, and the back-up back-up back-up alarm, and before I could rise and pray, I was short for time and had to be before one very important. I could not be late for work; so I awoke, rushed to the washroom, and out the door for the day ahead. In the midst of the chaos, the same voice spoke again, “You did not manage to pray this morning, but once you are settled at work and on time, you will pray and connect with God in your office. You will pray later.”

Then came the walk up to the building, and as I walked into my office, the rush of 100 urgent deadlines hit me. One colleague needed help with one of his files, my assistant told me a stakeholder was trying to reach me urgently, and management wanted a memo on an earlier decision I made. Everything needed to be done now. So I began to work, speaking to many, making calls, sending emails – communicating with everyone except the One I was meant to start my day with. Finally, when I had a moment to take a pause, the voice returned to encourage indulgence once more, “You are going to pray; but you have completed much work and are tired, you need to energize. Use this break to get coffee, so that you continue to be productive after the break. You will pray later.”

The work day passed by, a tidal wave of urgent deadlines eroding whatever perceived strength I gained from the coffee and the longer sleep of the morning. Then, after work, my colleagues, a group whom I truly love, urged me to get dinner and drinks with them. It sounded fun, but I was to pray – the day had been almost spent, and I had not yet spoken to Christ, let alone entered into His presence. As my mouth formed the first letter to indicate my need to return home, the voice returned and stopped me: “You should connect with your colleagues, they may be upset if you don’t go for dinner with them, and you love them. It will be fun; you’ve all worked so hard today. But prayer is important, so you will pray later,”

8:00 P.M. I arrived home from dinner. Exhaustion overtook me as I entered into my home. Nobody waited for me, only I dwelt in the apartment, and at that moment, I was thankful for it. I went straight to the couch, no questions asked. My prayer corner was in view of the couch, but was not being utilized, the voice had been waiting for my return home to tell me of my exhaustion, “You just merely got home. Sit down, relax, turn on Netflix, and then, tonight you will have the most intimate of prayers. You will most definitely pray later.”

An hour passed, then two, then three. Every time I tried to rise, the voice whispered, “Rest a little while longer, you will pray later.” And I the fool listened. I distracted myself from all thoughts, Netflix played on the television, occasionally drawing my attention from the mindless scrolling on my phone.

Then, as my eyes drew heavy from the late hours of the night, the voice spoke one final time, “Tomorrow, you have a long day of work and you are now abundantly tired. It’s late. So sleep now, and tomorrow you will rise early and ensure you pray before departing to work. You will pray later.”

I entered the warmth of my bed, believing I’d done something deserving of rest. I set my alarm and slept.

5:45 A.M. My alarm clock rang loudly and with purpose.

Pray for me Abba,

Your weak son