You know that word? The one I prayed for and did not want?
That word was Warrior.
At first, I did not want it because it was too fierce, too much, too…violent.
But then I came to understand that it rode in conjunction with prayer: Prayer Warrior.
This I could understand and grow to like, however, I argued: could it not be encourager? Advocate?
No. Each time I asked: No, it is Warrior.
And once I claimed it, named it, the flood gates have opened.
It was as if God was waiting for me to say yes, to affirm what He has called me too and once I did, He wasted no time in saying: Let me show you.
I do not look for prayer, it comes to me, is asked of me, by countless people—-sometimes out-rightly, sometimes by just sharing.
And most of the time, it is not easy prayer. It is not praise.
It is hard and broken and desperate.
It is prayer for the family of the father who died.
Prayer for the family of the Brother who died or the sister who has cancer or the girl whose engagement was broken off, or the friend with a broken neck
or the work load that is too heavy or for the job that is no where to be found
or for the dad with possible cancer and the fiance who passed away and the family in the midst of drugs.
And now I understand why Warrior is the word —- and not encourager, not advocate.
And I hear her echo and know she is right when she said: “Maybe a stronger word was needed.”
A stronger word that only comes with the presence of the Lord.