Last week, I was pole-axed by some kind of flu, which was ironic given that I was due to get a flu jab on Thursday. Coughing, sneezing, sore limbs, upset stomach and exhaustion have marked life. I felt unable to do anything, whether that was work, reading or even watching much telly.
A saint came round with health supplies, including enough fruit to keep my five-a-day level going for a few weeks. But the thing that meant more than anything else was when he asked if he could pray for me. Which reminded me that I (and I suspect most of us) don't ask for prayer often enough. Yes, we want tender-loving care and a listening ear for our tales of woe, but how often do we ask one another to pray? It's way too personal, implies a dependence on God and reminds us that the trials we face may well have a spiritual component. If it was good enough for the first church leaders, I guess it should be good enough for me too.
Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should. Ephesians 6:19-20
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