I went to Silver Dollar City. I am deathly afraid of heights but my daughter talked me into riding the Giant Swing.
We get on the ride with three other people; a dad and two girls around the age of 7. The ride starts and I’m thinking this will be okay until we swing back for the first time. I close my eyes tightly, my knuckles are white and I begin praying, hard, because I am terrified for my life.
“Jesus,” I say, “Just make it end. Oh, Lord, help me! God, make it stop. I don’t want to die…”
My daughter, instead of enjoying the ride, is trying her best to console me. “It’s okay, mommy,” she says, patting my arm. “It’s almost over. That was the biggest swing. It’s getting lower. It’ll be okay.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I say with more intensity. “Help me, you have to stop this thing…”
From start to finish, the ride lasts one minute. The longest minute of my life. When the seat belt unbuckles, I shout, “Thank you Jesus. Oh, thank you Jesus.” The people watching are getting a good laugh. My daughter is still trying to console me and the two seven-year-olds are asking their dad to ride it again.
As I staggered away I tried to catch my breath, slow down my heart rate, and get the feelings back in my hands, I heard God say, “Oh, Dana. If only you’d pray with one-tenth of that intensity we could move mountains.”
When was the last time you prayed with that kind of intensity? When you felt your life was on the line? Maybe it was the death of a loved one or a bad diagnosis? What if we could pray with that kind of intensity all the time? We could, and would, move mountains.
God’s Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare Pray hard and long. Ephesians 6:17-18 (The Message)