Teach Us to Pray My King
For my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty. (Isaiah 6:5b NIV)
Sing praises to God, sing praises; sing praises to our King sing praises for God is the King of all the earth; sing to him a psalm of praise. (Psalm 47:6-7 NIV)
In 1956, I had a little girl friend I played with when I was eight years old. We played dolls, school and jump rope, but there are two things I most remember about her. One was we watched Elvis Presley on the Ed Sullivan Show at her house. Squealing, our little eight-year-old hearts stopped as we danced to the beautiful voice of the handsome idol. The second memory was going to Bible School with her one humid summer night. I climbed up into the car and my friend and I giggled all the way as little girls are prone to do, even in the dreadfully hot car. They led us to a stuffy room with other second graders who all sat on tiny colored chairs with just the right sized table for little kids. A pleasant lady, who patted my shoulder as she passed, handed me a piece of red construction and another piece of gray paper. They put the glue in the center of the table, along with crayons, to copy what she wrote on the blackboard. These words would become the most important words that I had heard in my young life. For the first time, I learned I could pray to God. The friendly teacher read from the bible that Jesus' friends asked him to teach them how to pray. I wondered why these men would ask Jesus this. Did they notice a difference in Jesus after he had talked to the God of heaven? "Teach Us to Pray" she had written in perfect cursive, on the board as the story unfolded from the worn bible of the one who held it. "You and I too can talk to God,” she said with such love in her voice. I glued the sheets together and cut lopsided lips to finish my masterpiece. I left that little room knowing that I could talk to God. As soon as I could, I tried out this promise they gave me that evening. Most of my prayers started like a letter, "Dear God, " I would begin. The hot evening ended with a singing of "Jesus Loves Me" which also rang out as a testimony about this new friend I had found.
I guess my faded piece of paper with "Teach Us to Pray" must by now be 65 years old a genuine antique in anyone's book. The brittle, faded paper, takes me back to the most important lesson I ever learned.
Praise you, my Dear God for looking at a wee girl and giving her the most wonderful gift. It is funny in a way that my young heart was stopped by a king that sang "Love Me Tender" but was blessed eternally by the King of Kings who tenderly taught me to pray.
