My Fear of Praying Out Loud

I don't know about you, but until just a few years ago, I DREADED praying out loud.

Yes, you read that correctly.

The girl who would rather have a microphone in her hand than VIP tickets to a Taylor Swift concert (unless Ellen or Lisa Kudrow were making guest appearances, obviously) would pretend to become unrealistically interested in ANYTHING ELSE when her Sunday School teacher said those 8 horrifying words: "Would anyone like to close us in prayer?" 

THAT'S RIGHT! I DID IT! I'M NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT EITHER!

I would've rather relived the night I ran into a parking pole, flew 10ft in the air and belly-flopped onto the pavement 18X than pray in front of my peers. 

For those of you who know that story, you know I mean business. 

I used to wing presentations all the time...but a prayer? Yeah, no. I need at least a 5min heads up if you plan on making my worst nightmare unfold before my very eyes...and a maybe a lawyer present, somebody of POWER! "ARREST THEM, OFFICER!" 

There was just something about praying out loud that made me forget how to...well, talk. 

I would panic.

Complete sentence? What's that? 

My neck stiffened as I secretly hoped the fire alarm would go off so I could be relieved of my distress. My prayers didn't sound anything like the other kids' and I just KNEW (after I got over the initial shock that my name was called, of course) my on the spot prayer would end up sounding like: "Father God...thank you for Sundays...um...and uh...thank you for this food...oh, wait...we didn't eat...ABORT! ABORT! I mean...um...Father God...peace be with us...Amen!"

That was just a risk I was NOT willing to take.

*flash forward to my sophomore year of college*

Ever since I joined Phi Lamb, I wanted to be a Pledge Trainer. When I was finally eligible to apply for the position, I spent DAYS working on my application. That rhetorical analysis paper that was due on Friday could wait. I pushed that baby on the back burner like it was a hot pot of freshly cooked rice and focused every ounce of my energy on that application. 

*submit*

As always, God had other plans. 

A few days went by and I received a phone call from my Chaplain asking me if I'd ever thought about being the Prayer Committee Head. She explained what the role would entail and told me to spend the rest of the day praying about it and that she would get back to me the next day. 

We hung up.

I cried.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS? *sobs* Is this a joke, God? If it's not, I will never laugh at anything ever again. You KNOW how much I hate praying out loud! I'm TERRIFIED! *sobs* WHY ON EARTH IS THIS HAPPENING? *gasp for air* Didn't you see how much time I spent on the PLEDGE TRAINER, NOT Prayer Committee, application? DID YOU??????? *ugly crying face freezes as I begin running out of tears* I DON'T UNDERSTAND! I don't know big vocabulary words! THIS IS NOT THE TASK FOR ME! I AM NOT THE CHOSEN ONE!" 

After my dramatic soap opera, I was sitting in silence rethinking the tragedy I had just endured when suddenly God placed a friend from high school on my heart. He said, "Text her." 

Huh?

"Text her."

So, I did. I pulled up "Little Male Cardinal" (she may or may not be a redhead) on my phone and began pouring my heart out to her, text by text. I told her EVERYTHING, every emotion, thought, doubt, and fear that was running through my mind. I told her how much I hated praying out loud.  

A few hours later, Lil' Male calls me and as she began reminding me of my basketball huddle prayers and how all I did was talk to God as if I were talking to a friend, I realized why God had placed her on my heart. 

OH YEAH!

I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!

I used to pray in our team huddle before every single basketball game! In those huddles, I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was honest and felt completely comfortable asking, "God, please give strength to Tara's weak ankles that made her fall down in practice yesterday when nobody was around her" or "God, we are so scared of #49. Please be with the person that has to guard her...hopefully it's not me...but I know it won't be because I can't play defense. We almost died in practice yesterday...but you already know that. We are grateful You let us live to see this game. Please help us win, even though our legs feel like noodles. Actually, not even noodles...more like broth. Yep, broth. We are so grateful for the opportunity to play the game we love. Help us to glorify You every minute! Oh, and please don't let us get stomped at. Amen."

Yes, those were my prayers and yes, Tara really did fall clumsily to the ground while dribbling in seclusion, helplessly confessing, "I...have...WEAK ANKLES!"

If I was going to be the Prayer Committee Head, all I needed to do was talk to God the way I talked to Him in those huddles - like He's my friend...because He is! He's my pal, my buddy! 

Only Lil' Male could have provided the encouragement and reassurance I needed in that moment. 

We hung up. 

I cried again.

This time, however, I was crying tears of joy because that was just the conversation I needed to hear. I still didn't feel qualified, and obviously I couldn't pray in front of my sorority exactly like I did in front of my team (L O L), but I knew God would help me every step of the way, just as He had done numerous times before. My weakness would prove His strength and His power.

I called my Chaplain the next day and told her everything that had happened the night before. 

I was 100% down to boogie. 

Terrified, but still down to boogie.

I learned a LOT the following year serving as the Prayer Committee Head. My prayer life was challenged. My confidence and faith were challenged. Satan tried to tell me I wasn't good enough. He tried to tell me my words weren't impressive and that I was unqualified for the task. He tried to tell me that my prayers were too casual, I wasn't proper enough, etc. 

He tried to make me feel as if God were upset with me because of the way I prayed...as if I were talking to a friend.

You know what I said?

"GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!" 

You see, God doesn't care if we use SAT words when we talk to Him. He just wants to hear our hearts through our voices. Yes, even my East Texas twang! It's okay if we mess up and fumble over our words. He's not going to be disappointed if we accidentally say, "Thank you for filling our breath with lungs" (Yep, I said that at a meeting once...and laughed). We don't have to put on a fancy show, and we don't have to pray the way everybody else prays! He wants our simple, authentic selves. Talk to God in public the same way you would in private...like He's your friend!

One day, you, too, will be able to bless the food without calling for reinforcements.