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World at Prayer blog
Reflections of Family and Faith
"The family that prays together stays together." - Venerable Patrick Peyton
Holy lives of inspiration | Why pray?
There is a scene I want you to imagine, it is not in Scripture, but it feels like it could be. It’s late at night in a family kitchen. The lights are dim. A mother sits at the table with a cup of cold tea in front of her. Upstairs, her teenage son has locked himself in his room again. The two haven’t really spoken in days. Every word turns into an argument; every silence feels like a wall. She’s exhausted, she’s tried counseling, prayer, conversation, but tonight, she’s run out of ideas. And yet, she does something quiet and holy. She sets another plate at the table. Just in case. She decides that even if he doesn’t come down soon, she will be ready when he does. That small act, invisible to the world, is an act of faith. Not the sentimental kind that expects a miracle by morning, but the kind that refuses to stop preparing for one. We have all been either that mother, setting the table for her son, or the teenage son who locked himself up in his room. That’s the spirit Paul is talking about when he says Abraham “believed against hope.”
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Learn more about our faith | Why pray?
I have read about a blackout that took place on July 13, 1977 and it affected most of New York City. It was triggered when a lightning strike hit a substation near the Hudson River, initiating a cascade of failures in the power grid. The blackout lasted more than 24 hours in many places, with full restoration stretching into the next day. What makes this blackout unique in memory is that, because the moon was only a thin crescent that night, the skies were unusually dark. That allowed even city dwellers, under heavy light pollution, to see deep-sky objects, Stars, constellations, and those who had access to a telescope they could see the Milky Way and other celestial details which were rarely visible from midtown Manhattan otherwise.
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Holy lives of inspiration | Learn more about our faith
There’s an old story about a group of single men in a Bible study. After listening the gospel of the day, they got into a debate over which sister, Mary or Martha, would make the better wife. One insisted on Martha: “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and she sure knew how to cook!” Another voted for Mary: “She was thoughtful, quiet and loving, I’d be happy with a woman like that.” Finally, another guy ended the debate: “I’d like Martha before dinner and Mary and her quiet after dinner.”
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Holy lives of inspiration | Learn more about our faith
We all draw lines. Sometimes with a pen. Sometimes with our eyes. Sometimes just in our heads, where we don’t say it out loud, but we know, who belongs and who doesn’t. Who’s one of “us,” and who’s one of “them.” Who’s good and who’s just off. Who deserves help, and who brought it on themselves. Let’s talk about one of the most universal lines we all draw, the kind that shows up not in theology books, but in traffic. If I’m driving slowly, I’m responsible. I’m aware. Maybe even holy. But if someone else is driving slowly? They are an idiot, holding everyone back. Probably texting. Or sightseeing on the highway.
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Learn more about our faith | Strengthening family unity | Why pray?
In 1968, Apollo 8 astronauts became the first humans to orbit the moon. As they swung around the far side, completely cut off from all radio contact with Earth, alone in the cosmic dark, astronaut Jim Lovell looked out into the void and said something unexpected: “I feel like there were more than three of us up there.” He couldn’t explain it. No religious vision, no sudden apparition, just an unmistakable sense of presence. Years later, he still maintained: “We were not alone.” Today, on the feast of the Guardian Angels, we hear a curious reading from Nehemiah. The people of Israel gathered to hear words they had forgotten, and when they remembered, they wept. But Ezra told them to stop crying and start celebrating. Because they discovered again what it means to be accompanied, what it means to not be forgotten.
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Holy lives of inspiration | Why pray?
Some years ago, I read a story about a little boy named Eamon, who was gravely ill and being treated in a children’s hospital. His parents kept vigil by his bedside day and night. One nurse recalled walking past his room in the small hours of the morning and finding his mother singing softly to him, holding his frail hand. She said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed: in that dimly lit hospital room, it felt like she had stepped into holy ground. The boy Eamon eventually passed away, but his parents said they felt surrounded, carried even, by a strength beyond their own, the kind you can’t explain but only receive. That, I believe, is the quiet work of angels. Not always with trumpets and fire, but with presence, with consolation, with a reminder that God is near. When we hear Daniel’s vision in the Bible—thrones set in place, rivers of fire, the “Ancient of Days” clothed in glory, it feels like something out of a movie. You almost expect special effects and a booming soundtrack. Daniel wasn’t writing a screenplay. He was trying to put into words an experience of God’s majesty that words can hardly hold.
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