Who wants to pray?

People in my profession get asked to pray a lot. Many times, there isn’t even any asking going on—it’s simply assumed the pastor is the one who prays. When one of us pastor types goes off script and cheerfully offers for one of the other Christians in the group to have the honor, uncomfortable silence ensues. “Who feels called to offer a blessing for this meal?” Crickets.

I can’t blame the non-pastor types. It can be intimidating to be the one who announces through prayer—through what gets prayed for and what does not—where our collective focus lies and where we especially hope for the signs and wonders of God’s presence. Since, in many faith communities, pastors are the only ones who ever have the opportunity to pray, it can send the message that you need special training or voice intonation or secret knowledge about the right things to say.

A couple of weekends ago I got to be one of the listeners as a group prayed together. We took my stepson, who has autism, to a wonderful surf camp offered by Surfers Healing. It’s overwhelming standing on a beach together watching our children go out to sea without us. This year I was teary and moved again. I found myself standing at the shoreline with gripped hands at my chest—almost in a prayer position—holding my breath, watching him work on trusting the surfers enough to go where they led.