ITS TIME TO GET INTENSE: The Power of Desperate Prayer
2 Kings 13:18-19 (NIV 1984) 18 Then he said, “Take the arrows,” and the king took them. Elisha told him, “Strike the ground.” He struck it three times and stopped. 19 The man of God was angry with him and said, “You should have struck the ground five or six times; then you would have defeated Aram and completely destroyed it. But now you will defeat it only three times.”
What was Elisha looking for? Why were three strikes not enough? The king was being given a prophetic word that he would defeat the dreaded Arameans and the prophet was having him perform object lessons to make his point. “Strike the ground,” Elisha told the king, with no qualification, and then was mad that he only struck it three times. Perhaps the king lacked intensity. God was looking for a little more in his plea. “He struck three times and stopped.” Why three? Gut-wrenching desperation would tend to drive more strikes. I can see spontaneous desperation driving one to strike and strike and strike, over and over, until the prophet's hand grabbed the arm to stop it. Emotion and intensity in our relationship with God are sometimes what He is looking for, perhaps even orchestrating in our lives.
How bad do we want that for which we are praying, and what are the signs of intensity and desperation? I can think of a few. Desperate prayer is pressing prayer. It continues. One prayer doesn't suffice, it usually drives us to keep asking (Ps 88; Lk 2:37; 18:1-8; Eph 1:17). In Luke 18 we see the persistent widow’s desperation resulting in ongoing prayer, which is connected with faith. Years ago my pastor made us write in our Bibles, “Prayer is desperation.” When we’re desperate we pray, and when we pray we exercise faith. How can we call on one in whom we have not believed? (Rom 10:14) Desperation is a gift from God. We can't discipline ourselves to desperation; there is no button we push to get it. It comes when God allows the consequences of our bad decisions and the crushing circumstances of life to run their course, and there's no life hack for that; desperation can't be faked. The Hebrews groaned in their slavery and cried out, which implies a continuous cry, and God heard (Exo 2:23-25). Desperate people are groaning people; they mourn and weep (Ps 126:4-5; Joel 2:12-13; Matt 5:4; Lk 7:37-38; Rom 8:23; 1 Cor 5:2-4).
How serious are we about getting free from that besetting sin? How intensely are we pursuing the wisdom of God? How much do we want that loved one to experience spiritual renewal? How desperate are we for souls, national and cultural revival, or to see the manifestation of God's kingdom on earth? While spiritual disciplines are fine, even necessary, they are not a substitute for intensity. God is looking for us to take our arrows of prayerful concern and strike and strike and strike, until He says, “Enough! I hear you! Now trust and watch!” There is a time to pray, weep, fast, and groan, and there's a time to stop and observe the hand of God.
There was a time when I mourned and complained to God over and over about something, and it went on for years. Finally, I heard God speak, “Be a man!”, and I knew immediately what He meant. It required action, risky action, with no guarantees of success, and the possibility of disaster. I acted. It worked. There was another time I was crying out to God, fearful of my own weakness and discouraged with how much power my flesh still exerts at times. After days of crying, moaning, fearing, and praying, I heard His voice, with a bit of a scolding tone, “Have a little faith!” I knew it was Him, and I knew what it meant. The cloud of fear and self-doubt lifted; joy and confidence followed. The cries and moans were necessary fruits of desperation, preparing the way for increased faith.
God wants more than religious ritual, duty, and discipline; He wants us fully engaged in heart and mind. When we feel the intensity of our heart-cries to God, we must learn to roll with it, striking the ground with our arrows. Let the tears flow till our eyes ache. Pray loud! Pray intensely until words run out and only grunts and groans remain. This is not immature religion, undignified maybe, but not immature.
Desperation may not be faith complete, but it is certainly a level of faith and the required pathway to its increase. Perhaps the plight of American Christianity is this: we have become too dignified, too academic, and too ritualistic for our own good, having lost some of our ability to feel. Perhaps we have inadvertently embraced a low-intensity Christianity, sacrificing strong emotions at the altar of self-respect, desiring purity but not passion, excellent in religious form, but void of religious fervor. Maybe this is the key to personal, cultural, and national revival for which our arrow-prayers seek. Maybe it's time to start striking the ground, and keep striking until we get some results, until God grabs our arms and says, “Enough! It's yours.”
