Last year at the beginning of Lent, we were challenged at church to pray for someone during the forty days leading up to Easter; someone, or some relationship, that we felt was beyond hope and redemption.  Then we were to see what God might do.

There was no shortage of people who came to mind.  I wondered for which person I should pray.

The answer came:  pray for them all.

These were not people for whom I hadn’t prayed before; but I had not prayed in a very consistent or disciplined manner.  Mostly it was short prayers, sent up whenever I happened to think of them; which was fine, but also resulted in long stretches when I wasn’t praying for them at all.

I made a list of them all—about nine people—and started praying.

Most, if not all, of the people on my list were what I called “hard cases”.  If God was going to intervene and save or change them, it would be tantamount to a Damascus road experience in their lives.  I was praying, but would anything really happen?  I decided that that was not my responsibility.  My responsibility was to pray.  And so I did.

I wish I could say that something dramatic happened in at least one of those people’s lives; but nothing really did.   But something happened in my life, my prayer life.  After the forty days, I didn’t heave a sigh of relief and lay aside the list; I kept praying for them.  I didn’t do so out of a sense of obligation or asceticism; I really wanted to keep praying for them.  That in itself was a work of God.  I don’t claim to have prayed for them every single day, but they have been a regular part of my prayer routine ever since.

I must admit, however, that after awhile, I did wonder if anything was “happening”; if this was doing any good.  I mean, I knew it was good for me to pray for these folks, and for the relationships that I had with them. My attitude toward many of them was changing, and that in itself was an answer to prayer (it’s awfully hard to stay angry and bitter at someone for whom you have been praying for that long), but I had no indication that anyone had experienced a change of heart, a change of life, a change of attitude toward God. Nothing with them really seemed to be changing.

I kept praying.  Sometimes I got tired and discouraged and set aside my list; then I would revive and start praying again.  To be honest, my expectations and hopes were dampened.  I knew that I needed to be faithful and keep on keeping on, but I needed some encouragement.  Is anything happening, God?  Are you doing anything?  Anything at all? 

Then Marc and I had a conversation with his uncle.  Uncle was a hardened, angry, bitter man.  About a year and half ago, his wife died.  Before she died, she had become a believer, and had told Uncle about her new life with Jesus.  She told him he needed Jesus.  He didn’t understand completely, but he could see the change in her life. 

After she died, he realized that his life needed to change, and his wife was right: he needed Jesus.

He started going to church.  He started listening to the teaching.  And I don’t know if a bright light knocked him out of his pickup truck seat and gave him temporary blindness or not, but he met Jesus.

Uncle is a changed man.  He has a peacefulness, a calm about him.  You can see it on his face. The money and prestige and success which he pursued all of his life have no appeal to him anymore; all he wants to do is love and worship his Lord, and to see others come to do the same.

This is nothing short of a miracle.  I mean, the man is 75 years old.  People that old don’t change.  They’re set in their ways, like cement that has dried in the sun. Right?

Cement cracks.

A hardened heart softens.

“Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh; is anything too hard for me?” (Jeremiah 32:27)

Our hearts were encouraged to hear his story, and to see the joy and peace on his face.  And I was given a fresh new desire, to keep praying, to keep pushing on, to persevere in praying for these so-called impossible situations and people.  My time is not God’s time.  He can, and he will--all in good time. My part is to believe, to pray, to wait—and to be humbled and blessed to be a part of the joy when God brings another lost sheep to himself.