Little Bits of Legacy

Back in my teens and early twenties, I had a long list of people I prayed for on a regular basis. (I am a bit embarrassed to admit I'm not as consistent in my prayer lists as I once was. My prayer habits have changed over the years, and while not all those changes are bad, this is an area that needs work.)

I spent hours over the course of those years pleading in prayer on behalf of some of these people. I never told them I did it. I never plan to tell them I did it. Goodness, some of them didn't even know I existed. I just felt led to pray for them, so I did.

Now and then I have the personal privilege of running into a few of those people. Some of them still don't know me, but I know them. And I know when I see them that those prayers weren't wasted. In most cases I don't know for sure what God did with all the words I prayed, but I can see He's working in them, so I know those moments mattered for something good. It warms my heart and boosts my faith.

This week I had a chance to see a moment like this from another angle, and it gave me goose bumps.

You know I've been working in the church office for these past several weeks, and one of the joys of that time has been getting to know the staff in ways I never had before. They are a great bunch of people that I thoroughly enjoy working with each day. They're funny, encouraging, thoughtful, devoted to the Lord, and purposeful in their work.

One of the ladies who works part time in our office is also quite a prayer warrior. In fact, a couple of weeks ago, she wrote out prayers for all the staff members and emailed them to us. I treasure that little paragraph of a prayer she wrote for Ryan and me.

Yesterday she came into my office after lunch and hoisted a shopping bag onto my desk. "Do you have a minute for me to show you something?"

I swiveled in my seat to give her my full attention, and she pulled a Bible from the bag. The leather cover was worn and cracked, but she peeled it back to reveal the blank pages at the end of the Bible filled from top to bottom with carefully written names.

She told me that years ago, she felt led to pray daily over the youth of the church she attended, and she would pray and pray until they were no longer a part of that church and she couldn't keep track of them anymore. As she turned page after page of names, she went on to say that of the ones she knew about, most were serving the Lord to this day, and it was an encouragement to her to know that her prayers mattered.

She finally landed on the page she wanted and spun the Bible around to me. "There," she said. "I thought you might find that interesting."

There, in the middle of a page, was a carefully written RYAN SHAFFER.

My Ryan.

She had gone to church with him probably 25 years ago, in a different building, different denomination, different city. She'd written his name in her Bible and prayed for him every day. His address was written to the side - and at the end of the line was a checkmark and a note that he had started attending a different church. Her call to pray for him had ended, but she'd stayed with it for the time God nudged her to do it.

And now here she is, 25(ish) years later, attending church with him again, praying for him again, and simultaneously seeing the answer to the first round of prayers she prayed over him.

I handed that worn Bible back before I had a chance to read over all the other names. After all, they weren't my business. But I had to wonder what kind of legacy she left in all these lives that she prayed over so faithfully.

I know this wife is grateful she prayed for a teenage boy back in the day. Her legacy in his life matters to me.