LIFE LESSONS
The Seventeen Who Prayed Nancy Tally
With the recent protests and conversations about racism, we thought this OneWord Journal post Nancy Tally wrote in 2017 was timely. When we asked her about reprinting, she replied: It appears that I was not the only one thinking about this piece that I wrote back in 2017. I was growing angrier, disheartened and scared with every news cast I watched. I was sure that the opportunistic rioters and looters as well those consumed with anger, disgust and retaliation (because the police do not weed out the evil ones and evil practices from among their own ranks and our justice system is indeed blind—I know this from personal experiences) would be sure to target the good, the innocent and the vulnerable. Is that not satan’s* way? To destroy what is good and spare what is of his own making? Personally, I struggle with fear. So, it was not surprising to find myself fearful again. When afraid, I revert to part of a verse we taught the youngest kids in Awana. “What time I am afraid I will trust in thee.” So, to prayer I go seeing myself, in my head, climbing into Abba’s lap and telling him what he already knows. And here I also have to ask my heavenly Father to remind me of all he has done that I, in my weakness, have forgotten. Abba brought this incident to mind. This time when he clearly showed to me his power to protect his own in the face of satan’s attacks. [Note:*about the lack of capitalization, Nancy comments, “I purposely did not capitalize satan. I do not want to attribute any rank to him.”] I originally titled this piece “Jehovah Sabaoth, The Lord of Hosts is Our Protector,” that title was changed to “The Seventeen Who Prayed.” May I encourage you to pray and be part of somebody’s protection at this time. The Seventeen Who Prayed I want to tell you about a very dark night that blazed with light. What you saw all depended on your perspective. The man I married traveled for work. He would usually leave after the Sunday evening service and return the following Saturday morning, Friday evening if I was lucky. I developed my self-talk early on. Even though I felt safer when he was home, I really wasn’t any safer than when he was gone, for it was God who protected us both at home and on the road, separated or together. (Someday I will tell you about the miraculous near misses I have been in on the road.) Occasionally God reminds us what he spares us from all the time. Keeps our prayers real and honest and prevents them from becoming rote.
16
Back to the dark night. The kids and I were home by ourselves. I had them all tucked in bed asleep and was ready to turn in when I heard a Popoid toy skitter across the wood floor of the living room. Popoids made a distinct sound and they did not move under their own power. Unfortunately, the only phone was downstairs in the kitchen on the far side of the house. We lived in a tri-level home, and the upper hall from my bedroom, across to and down the stairs, was open to the living room. The lone light burning that night was at the top of those stairs. As I descended the stairs, a sense of evil grew until it was totally pervasive, and I ducked behind the first cover I could find—an overstuffed chair. There I cowered for what seemed like an eternity. I wanted the phone, but to get to it, I would be fully exposed by the light to the un-curtained windows of the front door. I wanted to get to my babies upstairs but then I would be exposed even longer, long enough for a clean shot. So, I cowered behind the chair on that dark moonless night and prayed harder than I had ever prayed before. I continuously begged God to protect my family from the evil I sensed all around me.
