Everyone has that story from childhood—the one their
parent tells every opportunity she gets—the one the child wishes the parent
would just forget because it was so long ago and no one really cares anyway. One of my mom’s favorite stories about me was
the time that I prayed my way out of a whipping.
“The Lord heard her that day,” she would laugh and say.
I’m not quite sure what I had done.
All I know is that after church one Sunday my mom took me to my big, big
sister’s house between services so that I could collect a whipping I had earned
at church. Her whippings were the worst
to me because she was always so nice to me. When I got one it hurt my
feelings more than anything else. My mom
didn’t believe in whipping clothes or eyeballs so she would make us strip down
to our underwear, get on our knees, and put our heads on the bed with our eyes
covered while she spanked with freshly picked switches. The emotional pain was
accentuated by the physical pain and the residual welts served as reminders to
keep me in check for at least another few months.
For some reason on this particular Sunday afternoon I asked my mom to
give me a moment to pray. She said
ok. I went into one of my sister’s back
bedrooms, where I remained for at least thirty minutes. I prayed out loud that day like the deacons during
devotion at an old school Baptist church.
“Heavenly Father, PLEASE sir don’t let my mom whip me today. I'm so sorry! Please, Lord!” I begged.
My mom said that each time she would step to the door of the bedroom,
she could hear me wailing and calling on the Lord.
It really tickled her. She
called my sister to come listen to me.
They both cracked up, unbeknownst to me.
I knew it was unlikely that my mom would decide against spanking me, since I had actually done wrong, but I hoped the Lord would grant me this one
request.
"Please, Lord, heavenly Father!! I won't do it again. I promise. Ohhhhhhh."
As my prayer dragged on, my mother finally came in the room and told me
to get off my knees. She sternly said
she wouldn’t whip me this time as long as I promised not to commit the same
offense again. I promised that I
wouldn’t and thanked the Lord because He had spared my behind. My mom showed mercy--forgave my transgression and withheld the punishment I actually deserved.
That day I learned that prayer is powerful.
