Rethinking Thoughts and Prayers

I don’t think we understand what prayer is.

Less than 24 hours ago, a white 26-year-old man walked into a small Texas church and killed more than two dozen people with an automatic rifle. The reactions have become predictable:
Politicians and celebrities are sending “thoughts and prayers” via social media.
Many fed-up Americans are calling for policy change to prevent future tragedies
while other fed-up Americans see those fed-up Americans as politicizing the tragedy.
The Far Left blames the Far Right;
the Far Right blames the Far Left.
We’re interrogating the usual boogeymen:
ISIS, white supremacists, Antifa, the NRA.
There’s speculation about the roles of mental illness and religious bigotry.
The Democrat says, “We need tighter gun regulations!”
The Republican says, “We need more good guys with guns!”
You know the drill at this point. It’s our usual cycle, and as these shootings get more and more frequent, we’re going through the cycle more and more quickly. I’ve noticed something new this time though, something that merits diving into this painful topic of mass shootings once again:

I don’t think we understand what prayer is.

Every time something like this happens, the social media response is a wave of posts and tweets and speeches beginning with “We’re praying for…” We’ve prayed for New York, Las Vegas, Paris, Newtown, Orlando, and so many other places I’ve lost track. Maybe I’m just getting more attuned to it, but amid the deluge of “Praying for Sutherland Springs” posts yesterday afternoon, I noticed more and more responses along the lines of “Screw your prayers; we need policy change.” On the other hand, for posts that advocated policy change, responses often included “Now isn’t the time for politics; we just need to pray for the victims’ families.”
To all these hasty commenters, I just have one question:
What exactly do you think prayer is?

I don’t know how or why it happened, but at some point in the past 2,000 years, we decided prayer and action were incompatible. We seem to think announcing you’re praying for something absolves you from the responsibility of changing it, but that’s not at all how prayer works.

Biblically, prayer is always the beginning of the story, never the end.
Prayer doesn’t resist action; it more often prompts it.
Prayer is the driving force behind every bold action in the Bible.
Solomon prayed for wisdom.
Hannah prayed for a miracle.
Isaiah prayed for deliverance.
Jonah prayed for rescue.
Mary prayed for God’s glory.
The Apostles prayed for discernment.
Moses prayed for freedom.
Jesus prayed for God’s will to be done,
and he reminded us not to pray empty words for others to see
but to stay humble and reverent and let our prayers lead us to act wisely.
Paul added to pray without ceasing,
to let every action be guided and shaped by prayer.
Ideally, when the Holy Spirit is our companion, prayer invades every moment,
and there is no action which is not a form of prayer.

So, you see: prayer and wise action are not mutually exclusive.
In fact, when you’re doing one right, the other is never far behind.

So if your social media prayers for Sutherland Springs don’t prompt you to change,
are you sure you really prayed?
And if the very thought of praying after tragedy makes you scoff,
are you sure you really know what prayer is?

We need to pray for those affected by the shooting in Sutherland Springs,
but those prayers should also lead us to act,
and as we act (not before we act or instead of acting),
we should continue to pray.

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