Ten of us meet every Wednesday night at the church for a prayer time. Been doing it all summer. Two of us are elders, plus our wives. None of the others hold any leadership positions in the church. But they are precious people, regular in coming to pray for the church. God doesn’t view people the same way we do. He doesn’t add up education and talents and IQ and articulateness and the size of your church, and assign worth. His scale is totally different.

Jennifer is a young girl, maybe 18, with a learning disability. Very poor family. She works at Taco Bell. She has difficulty reading. Every Wednesday we discuss prayer needs and praises, and then split up for about ten minutes of individual prayer, with the group scattering around the sanctuary. Afterwards, tonight, I asked each person to mention one matter of prayer that has been on their minds.

“How about it, Jennifer? What’s something that’s been on your mind for prayer?”

A little coaxing was needed. But finally she said very quietly, “The worship team.” And it immediately choked me up. She said that ever since Chris Kuntz, our worship leader, left for a position in another church, she has been praying for the worship team. I type this with water-soaked eyes.

Chris has been gone six weeks, and we’ve struggled to adjust without a strong lead singer. It’s not been easy. We’ve all had to make adjustments, and we acutely feel Chris’s absence. We have definitely needed prayer. But how did Jennifer, who has nothing to do with the worship team, know that?

Prayer often arises out of a personal burden, out of some sense that this particular need requires sustained prayer. When God looked down at the Anchor congregation, wondering whom to give a special burden for the worship team, he passed over the elders. He passed over the board members. He passed over Sunday school teachers. And he went to Jennifer. Meek, timid Jennifer. For six weeks now, Jennifer has been praying for us. And I had no idea.