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Ever wondered why we pray?

I mean, if God is all-powerful, knows everything, ordains everything, is sovereign over everything, and works everything for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose... why pray? Does it change God's mind? Help boost his power? Make stuff happen?

Some people say prayer isn't to make stuff happen, but to commune with and grow closer to God. And I can see that in all the verses, especially in Acts, about praying and fasting, seeming just for the sake of constantly being with God. But also, James 5:16 says that the prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working - using the example of Elijah in the famine for proof. Plus, Jesus said that a certain kind of demon can only be cast out through prayer (Mark 9:29), and Paul asked for the Corinthians to help him by praying for him (2 Corinthians 1:11). Prayer has power. We can't deny that.

But... how much power does prayer have over God? Does it have any? Does how much or how little we pray affect what God can do? Or will do? Does he need us to pray?

I don't think so. I don't see anywhere in Scripture where it indicates that God went, "Oh shoot, my people disobeyed me and did not pray so now I can't do that thing I was planning on doing." Oddly enough, it seems like several kinds of prayer causes God to cease rather than do - especially in the Old Testament, in cases of intercession, like Moses for the Israelites in Numbers 14 and seemingly again in Deuteronomy 9.

You know what I've found? It's not that our prayers have power to change God - his actions or intentions or anything. He relents from things as he chooses. But many times the passages about prayer say that God "granted" the person's request. Not that he needed them to ask in order to do something.

In case you don't know me, I'm a rather obsessive person when it comes to theological topics. For instance, I've been studying and debating the whole Calvinism vs. Armenianism thing for years now. And after studying and looking and questioning and wondering for so long, I find myself leaning more Calvinistic/on the predestined side.

Which of course filters into my thoughts on prayer. After all, if God ordains everything, or at least the big things... doesn't that mean he ordains our prayers? At least the big, life/history-altering ones? Like when Isaac prayed for Rebekah, that she might conceive. If Isaac hadn't prayed for his wife, would she still have had Esau and Jacob? If not, wouldn't that have messed up the entire nation of Israel? They wouldn't have even ever been a nation, because Israel himself would have never existed.

I can't see how our choices have that much sway over history. How God would not just be stressed, sitting up there biting his fingernails and hoping that people pray for the things they should pray for.

Rather, I think it makes more sense (given the scope of God's foreknowledge and sovereignty) for God to predestine the means as well as the end. To say, "I need a puny little nation who turns away from me every chance they get to send a Messiah through and rescue the whole world and show my glory to my creation, so therefore I need a guy to start this nation, therefore I need a mom and dad for this guy, so I made Isaac and Rebekah and brought them together. And, to foreshadow my miraculous birth in a few thousand years, I'm going to make Rebekah barren. Since she's barren, Isaac is going to pray for her, and I'm going open her womb to show my power and give them twins."

Other than that... I don't really have an answer. Yet. I plan to keep looking into it.

Okay, this is long and rambly and not nearly as full of Scripture as I would like. Honestly, I should probably study prayer more before I start tossing thoughts out like this. I'm not sure what I believe about prayer right now, other than that we're told to do it. So I'm curious: what are your thoughts, Reader? How does prayer work? Why pray?

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.”

-Romans 8:26 (ESV)

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~ Song of the Month ~

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~ Updates ~

I love the summer. Between the sunshine, the gardens, the friends, and camp, it keeps me busy - but I also tend to have more of a break from work (since all the college kids are in town needing jobs) and spend less time on school, which provides this lovely balance of busy responsibility and just strolling along enjoying life.

June is my busiest month of the summer. Last summer I spent ten weeks working with Rick and Connie, a couple summer missionaries who help at camps and VBSes around the western US. I had planned to do that again this year, but Connie got diagnosed with cancer late last year and, due to chemo, was unable to do summer missions this year. (She just finished her last chemo a couple weeks ago, by the way, and should be cancer free! Praise God!) So I just did camps this year - one about an hour from my house, another in Wyoming.

Overall it was a fabulous month. God is good. The kids were great. I learned a lot, more than I could fit in an email. And while I'm sad that this camp season is over, I'm looking forward to what this next year will hold. Wish me luck, lol. ^_^

(On the writing side, no news. I've been chasing kids and trying not to sunburn instead of writing. :D)

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~ Out of Context Quotes ~

(A place to share my family's odd conversations, mwahahaha)

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~ The Book Nook ~

Guess what released on June 24th?

I'll give you a hint: a new one comes out every year, and all the proceeds go to helping young authors (such as myself) attend conferences and such where they can meet agents and editors to pitch their stories and make connections in the publishing world.

Pretty cool, yeah?

The Author Conservatory, the online college alternative course I attend, releases an anthology every year featuring the short stories of their graduating class. This year, my Academic Success Advisor (Naomi Sowell) and a writing buddy I've known for years (Johanna Anaya) are in it. They've worked hard for this publication! So, allow me to introduce...

“ Discover the next generation of storytellers … ​ The sixth edition of Voices of the Future weaves together short stories of whimsy & warriors in a memorable and heartwarming collection. Experience the next generation’s creativity and vision through these brief tales from rising young creatives. ​ The Author Conservatory is a college-alternative program for gifted writers focused on raising up the next C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. 100% of your purchase goes to help students attend writing conferences where they can pitch their work to agents and publishers. AuthorConservatory.com​

If you're interested in snagging your own copy, check it out on Amazon, The Author Conservatory, or any of the authors' sites. ^_^

~ Flashfic: Trek ~

(My younger sister came up with the MC's name. You're welcome. XD)

Gandalia - or Dali as everyone thankfully called her - shook the mud off her boots and rested her hand on her sword hilt as she followed Jervix into The Silver Rose. The cozy scent of venison stew drifted into her nostrils while the familiar buzz of patrons filled her ears, broken by one woman’s distinctive laugh.

Jervix flipped the hood of his oilskin off his head, shaking water off the jagged ends of black hair hanging over his eyes. Dali followed suit. The bottom third of her braid was soaking, the rest as dry as a bad joke. Should’ve gotten a bigger oilskin.

“Jervix, my boy!” A rotund woman lifted a mug in salute from behind the counter, almost sloshing its bubbling contents all over her stained apron. “Come for dinner?”

Jervix grinned and signed something to her Dali didn’t quite catch. How did he get his fingers to move so quickly?

Gathering three other mugs in her hand, the woman grabbed a bowl piled with chunky stew and jerked her head, motioning for Jervix and Dali to follow. They did, and she seated them in Jervix’ favorite corner, out of the light, before depositing her load at a table of men. Dali studied them out of the corner of her eye. Three of them were the loud, raucous sort that used to frequent her master’s tavern back in Corfinch. The other seemed out of place - a gentleman, his top hat perched atop the sword-stick leaning casually against the table and a napkin spread across his lap. The barkeep spread the mugs around them, trading compliments and smiles like pirates trade false flags.

Jervix rapped the table with his thumb, getting Dali’s attention. She unbuckled her sword and lay it across her lap while he signed, slowly, Have you seen her?

Dali shook her head, mentally chiding herself. Distracted again. Get a hold of yourself, Dal.

What have you seen? Jervix asked. He didn’t seem disappointed. Master Shyk would have boxed her ears for not completing her assignment. Oh how the tides change.

She motioned to the gentleman with her head just as the woman turned to their table, wiping her hands on her apron while her pleasant smile rounded her jawline. “Alrighty then, what can I get you dears?”

Dali ordered for them both, and the woman nodded and clucked and scribbled away like a mother hen. When Dali wrapped up, she tucked her parchment into her pocket and withdrew a slender, curved knife that glinted with living green flecks.

Dali started. A firefly blade? How did she-

“Those’ll be right out,” the woman said with a grin and a wink, sliding the knife across the table to Jervix. He pocketed it silently. No one so much as glanced their way.

Told you she’s good, Jervix signed as the woman tottered away. I’m surprised you didn’t guess her right away.

Dali’s eyebrows climbed before she dragged them back down in case someone was watching. Her? she signed, hoping the gesture came across as incredulously as it would have if she’d spoken it. She’s your assassin?

Jervix shrugged, raising an eyebrow at her with that half-smirk of his. What? Surprised?

Crossing her arms, Dali leaned back in her chair, glancing at the gentleman and his unsavory companions across the way. “You could say that,” she muttered inaudibly. Jervix read her lips anyway and chuckled.

First a dragon the size of her fist who jumpscared himself with own fire, then a mischievous street boy who thought he was the best thief in the land but got caught every time, and now this? An assassin who could barely keep her feet and called everyone “my dear”?

Then there was Dali and Jervix. She eyed him as he watched the rain track down the dark panes outside. The mute and deaf king of a land that only existed in the histories long since lost to legend. And her. The slave woman not yet thirty whose sword was a fake and whose memory blinked out every time she got too scared.

What in the world was Jervix thinking? Five misfits to trek across the continent and find a girl long since drowned? In a month?

With a barely audible sigh, Dali turned back to the table as the assassin-barkeep meandered their way, two plates balanced on one arm and two mugs in the other hand. She reached their table.

Someone choked.

Dali glanced around just in time to see the gentleman across from them fall out of his seat, knocking his sword stick over with a crash.

Someone shouted. Dali found herself on her feet before her mind caught up to her body. Jervix was a second ahead of her. The gentleman writhed on the floor, foaming at the mouth, clutching his throat.

He stopped abruptly.

“Someone find a healer!” hollered the barkeep, then started herding patrons away, her plump face pinched with worry.

Kneeling next to the gentleman’s side, Dali put two shaking fingers to his neck, taking deep breaths herself. Stay calm, Dali. Stay calm. You can’t forget, not right now. His pulse was already gone. His waxy face twisted in death, fingers still clawing at his throat. A bubble netted in the pristine moustache at the corner of his lips popped as The Silver Rose exploded in pandemonium.

Dead, Jervix signed.

Dali yanked her fingers away and swallowed. Jervix closed the gentleman’s eyes. They’d been blue when Dali had studied him earlier, but now they had clouded over into a milky white. Blind. Unseeing.

The other men at his table yelled at each other, blaming each other for his death and trying to defend themselves. The barkeep reappeared, bustling them out of the building as she closed it until the coppers would inevitably show up to ask their endless questions and take the body away.

When she came back, the door locked and half-eaten meals still on the table, she gingerly lowered herself onto the ground next to Dali, ankles popping, and winked at Jervix. “Whoops,” she said, and Dali's stomach flipped as everything Jervix had told her about their quest came crashing down around her.

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~ A Smile a Day ~

Until next time, smile while you still have teeth!

(P.S. Psst! If you head over to ​my site​ and find the Subscribers Only page, here’s your password to get inside (copy and paste the bold parts and the asterisks) *IamAUTHORized* ;) Hop on in there and enjoy!)