When Praying is Preying or Praying is Prying

If these comments are not done artfully, they can come across as ungrateful, unkind, ungracious, and just plain ugly. Okay, I have warned myself and alerted my readers. What follows is a fiction based on facts – or, maybe better, based on my perceptions of real and recent circumstances. I fully realize that my perceptions do not constitute facts or even history. 

Our household has recently undergone a health crisis. Terri's is my wife of thirty six years. Terri's spine is causing her incredible and continuous unmitigated pain. In the past five weeks she underwent two surgical procedures. Terri, a registered nurse, who is the manager of two hospital units, values her privacy. This is so partly because she doesn’t wish to have some health condition define her as a person. I respect this about her and admire her for it.

In the family system called the congregation, privacy is not highly honored. Or, to be more gracious, privacy is sometimes qualified in the interest of our duty to pray for one another. I think we really need to carefully consider the ethics of intercessory prayer. Does intercessory prayer demand a fully disclosure of all our “prayer concerns?” Does such information need to be published to the widest possible “prayer circle” or kept confined? Of course, when the prayer group is trustworthy, and will treat the personal information as sensitive we can and should ask others to join your prayers of intercession. My personal rule is to mostly ask for prayers for myself – “I am concerned about some matters at home, would you pray for me that I might be a better father and husband.” When others request prayer I never ask for more information than a person offers except for clarification. I really don’t need to know the precise diagnosis or the precise treatment plan in order to pray for someone who is sick and hurting.

Here is the composite conversation I promised.

“Good morning, pastor, sorry to interrupt you. I just came back from my prayer group and someone asked me about Terri. I had to tell them that I didn’t know about her bad back.” She says this as though she is ashamed of her ignorance and with a tone that indicates her visit was to right this terrible wrong. “What’s wrong with her back?” I search for the strength and wisdom not to shout, “This is a private matter and I don’t care to discuss it, thank you.” I say something like, “Thank you for your concern, I think she will be fine.” With the persistence that would make envious even a bulldog investigative reporter with a dogmatic “peoples’ right to know” credo, she asks, “Is it her upper or lower spine?” “Okay, Miller, it’s time to deflect.” I say, “I know very little about such medical matters.”

My deflection almost works, she goes into an account of her uncle who had a back pain, near his neck and it turned out to be the early signs of “brain cancer.” Then I learn how he lost 125 pound, “looked like a skeleton” and died in sheer agony. She sighs and says, “I hope Terri’s condition is not a brain tumor like my uncle had.”

In mock concern she says, as she backs out the door, “If there is anything you need, just call me. I’ll be praying.”