Somebody Prayed

After college when I was living in Brooklyn is the first time I heard the hymn, “Somebody prayed for me.” The words go on, “…had me on their mind. Took the time to pray for me. I’m so glad, I’m so glad, I’m so glad they prayed for me.” I was playing in the gospel praise team for a scrappy, small Lutheran church in Williamsburg, where everybody knew everybody, and passing the peace took fifteen minutes if the pastor didn’t push us to wrap it up sooner. I came to that church because I had a few connections there. I stayed because within a few weeks I felt seen and known by a community, in a city where I otherwise felt mostly anonymous. “Somebody prayed for me” became a way of describing my feeling at St. John’s. Church was a place where for no reason other than that I had shown up, somebody cared about me, and was happy to see me, and included me in their prayers with sincerity.

In our Gospel for this Sunday, Jesus prays for his disciples with intimate love. “I am asking on their behalf…” he says to God, ”because they are yours.” I wonder what this embrace felt like to the disciples, who had known Jesus, but were now being entrusted to his Father in a new way. We too, with the disciples, are included in Jesus’ prayer. We are lifted up and sacred, and worthy of being known.

What kind of community is possible when we pray for each other? Today, as you read, I invite you to take a moment to think of someone at St. Timothy or beyond, and lift them in prayer to God. If you know that person’s name or contact information, let them know. And know that you too, beloveds, are held in the heart of God.

With you on the journey,
Liesl