What good could this priest, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, possibly communicate about Jesus? So despite having received the book as a wedding present, the flagrant flippancy of the priest's picture on the dust jacket drove me to mock both book and title. The pages merited but a gratuitous flip.
Then probably 35 years ago, the book mysteriously sank from sight in the steady ebb and flow of books through our home. Nevertheless, the picture's incongruity had imparted a mental stickiness that wouldn't turn the title loose, making us wonder about the book's contents. And on several occasions, I even priced used copies just to see what satisfying my curiosity might cost.
Not many days ago a friend cryptically inquired whether we had been missing something–and the book never came to mind. Then confessing to having furtively taken it, she also alleged to have set it plainly before us at least 20 times, just to see if we'd notice.
When she mentioned the title, Mary and I both sprang with glee from our chairs as if propelled by hidden springs. "No! Surely you don't have it. We've looked for it a hundred times!" Then plucking the purloined volume from its hiding place, she relinquished it.
"Are You Running With Me, Jesus?" is a book of prayers by Malcolm Boyd, a businessman turned priest in the heydays of civil rights and social activism. Judging from their titles, Boyd's written prayers struck me then as having a sort of flippant, irreverent flavor for a priest. Hence the laughing.
Since difficult trials recalibrate both proud and haughty, some of Boyd's once-humorous prayer titles now resonate a different chord: "I'm crying and shouting inside tonight, Lord, and I'm feeling completely alone." "I'm nowhere, Lord, and I couldn't care less." "I'm grateful things broke this way, Lord." No more laughing.
To a young man, Boyd's written prayers seemingly denied the formality and loftiness I imagined God required. But were I to write out my own prayers today, I'd write (as he did) what I sometimes say aloud in expressing intense feelings to the only One beside me in the race of life.
"Lord, you promised to never leave me nor forsake me. I'm looking for you now because I feel all alone. Are you anywhere near?"
"And you said that if I would call out to you that you would answer. I'm calling and listening, but you have been silent for a mighty long time."
"And have you forgotten that you said your yoke is easy and your burden light? I'm waiting to feel you lift the load, Lord, because it's especially heavy with today's news."
"And when you said, 'Let not your heart be troubled,' did you mean it? Because troubles seem so real right now."
Difficult struggles in recent months have frequently elicited one singular prayer, as much hope as question. "Are you running with me, Jesus?"
True prayer may not be the words we say, but what God hears.
Copyright 2003 James McAlister
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