I lost it during a local Wednesday night praise service. Months upon months of pent-up heartbreak brought tears rolling in like a surprise storm at sea. I stumbled past the open mike and positioned myself directly in front of the first row and then came the desperate plea so long bottled up in me from months of being washed over with trust acid (when someone you love and trust begins to betray in a way that eats the relationship alive slowly and painfully). My desperate cry:

Lord, hear my plea: By the authority given me in Jesus I ORDER all prodigal children to come home that they might once again have hope and that our broken hearts might be restored. Will You turn a deaf ear to me? I’m begging for mercy not wrath, Lord, what every wandering child deserves put on me and take me, but I WILL NOT GO WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER!!!

Lord [a long silence filled with only barely audible wimpering] … Lord [more silence and a hard swallow] … I miss my daughter, will You bring her back? For every family with a child who has lost their way, as I did, surround the entirely family with a hedge of angels that not one toe of one family member be stubbed on any stone. Lord, our hearts are turned toward You, turn their hearts to You.

The prayer prompted a passionate plea from one brother for his two brothers and other prayers that were intended to encourage me, I think. A friend who knows the journey of being a parent of a prodigal prayed for grace for all of us to be “patient” while God worked. This was a wise prayer of someone who has already accepted what I have not, that my child may continue to struggle for a long time.

Many of us with children who are struggling feel this way; I know because other parents tell me. However, I rarely hear a prayer like this. The language of this impromptu plea is not unique to me nor is the attitude — I was praying a loosely veiled version of Psalm 44. Psalm 44 was likely written by David during the cave years, the time after he fled King Saul’s court but still long before he became king of Israel. David received a promise (that he would be king) but saw very little evidence to support this for many, many years.

It seems obvious to this melancholy man that David would experience times of great despair; it’s less obvious to me that He would express it so honestly to God. David, after all, is described by God as “the man after my own heart” (Acts 13:22), an expression of great intimacy and one I would like attached to me, so I will wail some more when it is authentic. God loves me enough to allow it and, in fact, may treasure my pleas as He did David’s. How many times have you gladly listened to your child rant? Doesn’t it make sense that our Father is okay with that?

Now it’s time to take our desperate pleas public so that we may find in our churches and communities those who can and will support us in this sometimes long, but always painful wait for our prodigal children. Will you join me in outing parents of prodigals and ending the miserable silence?

Possibly Related Posts:

• When God is Silent
• The Sights and Sounds of Enabling
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• Counterfeit: Lies We Believe About Work
• Counterfeit: Lies We Believe About Religion
• Counterfeit: Lies We Believe About Worship