I often hear the term prayer warrior bandied around—and probably have used it myself—but I’ve never been quite certain what made someone a prayer warrior. The picture that comes to mind is a Joan of Arc in armor and breastplate, bearing a cross, besieging the heavens before going into battle. But what about people today?
Then last week I was teaching at the Guideposts Writers Workshop out in Port Orchard, Washington. It was a busy week of classes and seminars. One of our frequent contributors, Catherine Madera, gave a lecture one night about her experience as a writer. Accompanying her was her husband, Mark, a truck driver who heads a whole fleet of truck drivers and is an active member in his church’s men’s group.
After the lecture I was talking to Mark when suddenly in midsentence he said, “Excuse me, I’ve got to go pray with somebody.” I looked quizzically at him. “Sure,” I said and watched him dart across the room. In a matter of minutes he was listening intently and talking just as intently to someone in our group. Then they were both praying. Silently and not so silently.
Maybe it’s because Mark is an ex-Marine, and still has some of a Marine’s demeanor, that I thought, There goes a prayer warrior. I don’t know what he said or how he knew that the woman he was praying for needed prayer right on the spot, but I liked the way he dropped everything to do it.
So here’s my new definition of a prayer warrior: someone willing to drop everything to pray for someone else who needs it. I find the same urgency and passion in the prayer Paul says for the Thessalonians: “May the Lord cause you to increase and enrich your love for each other and for everyone in the same way as we also love you. May the love cause your hearts to be strengthened, to be blameless in holiness before our God and Father.” Prayers like that brim with a warrior’s fervor.
