A few weeks ago, a few people were praying for me. I went in for a medical procedure on my knee. The procedure involved drawing out a fair amount of bone marrow in four large syringes from my hip. Then that processed material was injected back into various damaged parts of my knee. It’s a stem cell thing.

I told a guy at church the day before the procedure that I was going to have the work done. I mentioned that my son had been in for a similar thing for his ankle. His report was that the aspiration of the bone marrow was very painful.

My faithful friend said he would pray for me. He even wanted to know what time the procedure was scheduled for and he made a written note. I was impressed.

As luck would have it, my old bishop, a bad knee guy himself, and his wife drove past my place that Sunday evening. They stopped to say hello and to swap bad knee stories. I told them about my foreboding anticipation of pain in the procedure for the next day.

I let them know about our common friend who would be praying for me. They immediately said, “We’ll pray for you too.” I said, “That’s great. Thank you.” And with a little smile I said, “But you know, Niki wrote it down when he said he’d pray for me”

Not to be outdone, Kris whipped out his phone and said, “All right, I’m making a note…” This was all a mixture of seriousness and comedy.

As we talked a little more, I mentioned how times have changed. I told them that when I had COVID-19 in August that I had received only one single, traditional, through the mail, “Get Well” card. It was from a 93-year-old woman in our neighborhood (Jane Braithwaite, a pillar of Sanpete in her own right, and widow of legendary coach, poet, and songwriter, Wilbur Braithwaite).

Well, I was “shaking in my boots” when I went in for my procedure. I asked the doctor if I could take a pain pill beforehand. He said, “Go ahead, it won’t help.” The pain was, in fact, quite intense. But, I think I only said, “Holy Moses!” once. I was actually focusing on the fact that people were praying for me. And, believe it or not, I think it helped.

When we got home later that day, there was a big, yellow banner sign on our garage door which read, “Get Well Soon!” There were helium balloons attached to a package of snickerdoodle cookies (my favorite). And, there was an honest to goodness “Get Well Card” signed by my friends. It was a clear message that they were not going to be outdone by Jane.

A Pew Research Center study I looked at indicates that 55% of Americans pray at least daily. Interestingly, Canada shows 25%, Mexico 40%, Russia 18%, and China 1% (Nigeria 95%).

Of course, there are varying opinions as to whether prayer works or not. From my story, you already know that I’m a believer. I think that there’s value in prayer for the one who prays and the one being prayed for. There’s also power in positive thoughts.

A study conducted by Columbia University showed that prayer reduces ego and promotes humility. A praying person is generally more selfless and is concerned for the greater good in society. Praying is good for the heart – literally.

Does all this leave atheists out in the cold. Surprisingly enough, no! William Irwin, an atheist, and Professor of Philosophy at King’s College wrote this in an essay I found:

“Legend has it that the physicist Niels Bohr had a horseshoe hanging above his door. A colleague asked him why, to which he responded, “it’s for luck.” The colleague then asked him if he believed in luck. Bohr reassured him that as a scientist he did not believe in luck. Puzzled, the colleague asked again why Bohr had the horseshoe hanging above his door. Bohr responded, “I’m told that you don’t have to believe in order for it to work.”

Irwin went on to say that “One does not need to believe in God for prayer to work…It is possible to be a praying atheist, a “pray-theist” if you like.”

Meanwhile, back at the “believer ranch…” At church this past Sunday, I heard a woman thank the congregation, for their friendship, love, and prayers. She’s been dealing with cancer and the awful, debilitating, and painful treatments. I was humbled and reminded that my pain episode was a “spit in the ocean” compared to many, right here in Sanpete.

She related that she and her husband had been away spending the night in a town in Southern Utah. Her pain was keeping her from sleeping and she was without medication. It was late at night and a drive around town was not successful in finding any place to get a pain reliever.

Back in bed, contemplating a sleepless night, this woman’s husband related to her a little story. He told about running into someone in their circle of acquaintances who isn’t particularly religious. The person, upon hearing of the cancer situation, said: “I will pray for her.”

The woman, lying in bed, contemplated and thought, “How does that work? — when someone prays for you?”

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in the morning to a new day. And she thought, “Oh, that’s how it works!”

… Merrill

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