Pray For Me
It’s unbelievable that a person has many close shaves with death and still not believe in God. Kim Peckham looks at the life of an extraordinary secret agent to support his thesis.
I’m beginning to doubt that James Bond is a real person. Here’s the thing that tipped me off: He never prays. A guy his age should be praying that the other spies don’t find out that he uses Regain. And wouldn’t those times when the villain dangles him over a pool of hungry sharks result in fervent supplications to the Almighty? Then again, maybe he is praying, only it’s one of those “stealth” prayers, like the one you might say in a public place or before digging into lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe.
I’m just pointing out that there is a suspicious lack of religion in Mr Bond’s life. If a normal person escaped certain death at the hands of Dr Evil for the 14th time, he would begin to think God has a plan for his life. He would probably give up spying and enter ministry—maybe write a book and speak at week-end retreats. “Every day I was saving the world from destruction,” he would say during his presentation. “But I still wasn’t happy. After the three supermodels left my hotel suite, I would sit alone and cry.”
He can do it—alone
His story—especially the part before his conversion—would hold the attention of the men. James Bond plays to our fantasies—fast cars, blowing things up, and, of course, attractive women to assist us in these endeavours. Throw in an all-you-can-eat buffet, and it would be perfect.
But there is another part of the fantasy that is irresistible—it’s the idea that James is suave and debonair, with savoir-faire enough to handle any situation on his own. To help you understand why this concept is so seductive, let me just say that James Bond is a man who never has to stop at a petrol station to ask for directions.
That is our manly ideal. In reality, we can’t even handle a bee swarm without professional help. I remember one time when I took it upon myself to defrost the refrigerator. Like James Bond, I was confident of my ability to deal with the situation. I started the job by using my wife’s hair dryer. After 10 minutes and two tablespoons of melted water, I decided to get serious. I brought out a chisel and a hammer. Soon I was throwing out big chunks of frost. Unfortunately, I also had to throw out the refrigerator. In my suave and debonair way, I had pounded my chiselling device through one of the freon lines.
We must deal as best we can with the gap between heroic abilities (Mr Bond can disarm a nuclear weapon while holding his breath underwater) and our own lack of ability (“H’mm, how am I supposed to open this email attachment?”). Sometimes we just lie to ourselves and believe we can handle the situation. And at other times—when our frailty is inescapable—we pray.
I teach a youth group in church, and these teens will pray about everything. Last week someone’s hair was recommended as a subject for intercessory prayer. Then there was the athlete who would pray that the opposing team wouldn’t get their feelings hurt when they lost the upcoming game. Of course, there are prayers about maths tests, the weather, and sick grandparents.
Every day we decide what aspects of our life we will handle on our own, and which we will make a matter of prayer. Some of us believe that the more often we come before “the throne of grace” and ask for directions, the better!
And for those of you who think you can manage your life without divine help, all I have to say is, “Get real!”
Reprinted, with permission, from Women of Spirit.
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