Prayer is personal and communal contact with God our heavenly Father, but do we really believe this?
You’ve just put the lasagna on the plate, and
Are sitting down to watch your favourite soap,
When, damn and blast, the doorbell rings…
You go to the door, and there’s… the Pope!
The great man himself, standing at your door!
And there’s his entourage out in the street!
You listen, dumbstruck, as he talks to you,
And says you’re the one he’s come to meet.
Your head is spinning; have you fainted and
Woken to a dream… even a nightmare?
You realise he’s still stood out in the cold:
Whatever else, can’t leave him standing there.
You’ve never been one for going to church.
Is he here to tick you off? Threaten hell?
Even so, this doesn’t happen every day
And think – what a tale you’ll have to tell!
However long he stays with you, you
Give him your undivided attention:
Telly off, supper quickly put aside and
Absolutely no other interruption.
A dream? A fantasy? Maybe so.
VIPs don’t really pop in for a chat.
But when we answer God’s call to prayer,
Visitors don’t come any greater than that.