Rachael had just asked us to pray for healing over an infection she’d been dealing with and her husband’s leg pain. We held hands around the table and started praying.

Then my brain shut off.

I could not remember her husband’s name.

John?

Peter?

No, I was just naming apostles now.

We had spent the last hour together talking about healing and the goodness of God.

Asking again, mid-prayer?

Embarrassing.

So I tried to hide it.

I found myself praying for their problems without using either of their names to make it “less” obvious.

Her. Him. Their. Whatever kept the prayer moving. 

I became painfully aware of how full the coffee shop was getting.

My words got quieter. 

Shorter.

“Amen.”

It seems one of the easiest ways to get the blood pumping is fear of exposure.

Maybe you forget someone’s name after a long conversation.

You stumble over your words during a speech.

Or you make a rookie-level mistake at work.

So you cover it up.

Five seconds is all it would take to admit it and remove the tension.

You don’t though.

Instead, you pretend you’re fine and stumble through it.

Your eyes fixed firmly on yourself the entire time.

After Adam and Eve ate the fruit, their eyes were opened and they realized they were naked.

So they covered themselves and hid.

My moment was no different.

I felt exposed.

So I reached for the fig leaves.

A carefully constructed prayer full of pronouns.

I forgot someone’s name.

At any point I could have just opened my eyes and said, “Man, I’m sorry. My brain just completely blanked. What’s your name again?”

Done. Over.

Didn’t happen though.

Instead I just kept chugging along until the prayer petered out.

Why?

In truth the assignment God had for me never changed.

My focus did.

I stopped trusting God and started covering myself.

Exposure was never the problem.

I just needed to keep my eyes on my King.

Until next time,
Addison