I’ve prayed for my children since before they were born. But I don’t think I’ve ever been as impressed with the complete need of it until tonight, as I worked on massaging their names into a passage of scripture where Paul is describing his prayer for the church at Colosse.

Natasha’s version (I have all three children integrated with this passage):

Dear Father God,

I lift Natasha Joy before your throne and ask that you would fill her with the knowledge of your will through all spiritual wisdom and understanding.

I pray this in order that she may live a life worthy of you and may please you in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to your glorious might so that she may have great endurance and patience, and joyfully give thanks to You, who have qualified her to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light.

I pray you would rescue her from the dominion of darkness and bring her into the kingdom of the Son you love, in whom she has, waiting, redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

Before I re-wrote that last paragraph, I don’t think I saw so clearly the spiritual position of my children. And while I believe in that whole age-of-accountability thing (another discussion, sometime, I’m sure), this is the position I must labor and pray from.

When Betsy told me the story of her 4-year-old accepting Christ, I sensed the relief in her voice, and I rejoiced with her at the event. Reflecting on it now, I think more of the relief. Here is one child translated from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. One piece of my heart safely transplanted to the garden of my eternal home.

I begin to understand the fervency of my grandmother’s prayers for her sons, that she would see them come to Christ.

I pray you would rescue her from the dominion of darkness…

That image is so stark and clear. I feel I want to keep it before me, that I would be ever focused and purposeful in my guiding my children toward the truth.