A prayer

O Lord, this semester I have not honored you. I have been silent before the enemy, my mouth sealed up. I have not sought your glory. I have nursed sin. I long to be near you, but will not bear the humiliation of going to you outside the camp. As you know, tonight I have done something very difficult. I have written the gospel in a letter to my history professor. At first I wanted to write it. But after I had finished writing, I did not want to send it. I had to send it. But I could not. So I prayed, and prayed. Lord, if I say I would bear scorn and shame and derision for your sake, yet am unwilling to send the power of God in an email, what integrity have I? If I have any claim to the power of the gospel myself, but am unwilling to remove it from its bushel and let it shine, do I have anything at all? You said, shout from the rooftops what you hear in secret! Alas, I cannot even send it in an email.

But I did. If I’ve never done anything else in faith, that was in faith. So now I pray the word you promised through your prophet Isaiah: make your word not return to you empty, but accomplish the purpose for which you sent it. For Your namesake, Lord, make Your Spirit go with my simple words, and convict Professor B—- of sin, and righteousness, and judgment. And give him that inexplicable sense of Your great love and mercy. And cast him on his face in reverence. Save Professor B—-, Lord.

In Christ,
Joshua

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