Dear friend,
I want to tell you something before I say anything else this morning.
I prayed for you last night.
I do not know your name. I have never seen your face. I could not pick you out of a crowd if I tried. And yet, as I knelt down last night the way I have knelt down every night for fifty years, I found myself praying for someone very specific. I believe, with everything in me, that someone specific was you.
Let me tell you who I was praying for.
If you are the one who has not told anyone how frightened you have been — I prayed for you.
You smile at church. You answer the phone the way you always have. Nobody around you knows that some mornings you wake up with your chest already tight, already bracing for whatever the day is going to bring. You have not said it out loud because you do not want to worry your children, and you do not want to seem weak in front of people who think of you as the strong one.
I prayed that God would meet you in that fear before it gets out of bed with you tomorrow.
If you are the one still grieving someone, and quietly ashamed that the grief has not lifted the way you thought it would by now — I prayed for you.
Someone told you, gently, that it has been a while. That you should be doing better. And some part of you agreed with them, even though the missing has not gotten smaller, only quieter. You have started grieving in private because you are tired of explaining it.
I prayed that God would let you grieve for exactly as long as you need to, without anyone's timeline attached to it.
If you are the one who prayed for this country last night and wondered, even for a second, whether anyone was listening — I prayed for you too.
You have been faithful in this for years. Decades, some of you. You pray for leaders you have never met, over decisions you have no control over, in a country that increasingly tells you your prayers and your beliefs do not matter. And some nights it is hard not to wonder if it is doing anything at all.
I prayed that you would be given proof, in whatever form God chooses, that it has never once been wasted.
I want to tell you why I do this. Why an old man kneels down every night and prays for people he will never meet.
In Romans chapter 8, verse 26, Paul wrote something that has stayed with me for fifty years. He said the Spirit helps us in our weakness, because we do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.
I think about that often. There are nights when I do not know your specific circumstance. I do not know if you are the frightened one, or the grieving one, or the one praying for a country that does not always seem to be listening. But I have learned that I do not need to know the details to pray for you specifically. God already knows. I simply have to show up and ask.
So I show up. Every night. And I ask.
I want to tell you one more thing while I have you here.
So many of you have written to me about the fear you carry watching what is happening in this country right now. The attacks. The betrayals, even from people who were supposed to be on the same side. The feeling that nothing is settled and nobody is in control.
I wrote They Tried To Stop Him: What The Bible Says About Donald Trump in part because of nights exactly like the one I just described to you — sitting with the weight of what so many of you are carrying, and wanting to give you something steadier than fear to hold onto. It traces the same pattern through Scripture that I believe is unfolding right now, and I think it will settle something in the very fear I prayed over last night. You can find it by clicking on the image below:
Alternatively, you may access it here: https://fatherthomasletters.com/products/they-tried-to-stop-him-what-the-bible-says-about-donald-trump
I do not know which of these you are. Perhaps you are none of them, and something else entirely is sitting on your chest this morning that I have not named. If that is the case, I want you to know I prayed for that too, even without knowing its shape.
You are not as alone as you feel. Someone you have never met knelt down for you last night and meant it.
God bless you, friend. I will pray for you again tonight.
With you in prayer,
Father Thomas
Today, I want you to do one thing.
Tonight, before you sleep, pray for someone you have never met. A stranger. Someone whose name you will never know. Ask God to meet them exactly where they are. You will never know if it reached them. Neither did I, until some of you started writing back to tell me it did.