The Prayer Of An 8-yearold
As a child of 8 years old I was quite good at tetherball and I practiced a lot alone. I would fantasize that I was a super sports hero with an arena of fans cheering my every move. I would imagine super feats that I would try to perform for my imaginary fan base, feats that I was unable to carry out.
My failures to fulfill my fantasies made me extremely mad. After a visual survey of the area to be absolutely sure I was alone I would say a cuss word, either the “d” word or the “h” word. The guilt was very big but the steam it vented seemed bigger. I could never allow anyone in the family to hear me cuss.
One night as I stood at the foot of my bed in the bedroom something happened that made me very angry. I was too refined for tantrums. If I beat up an ironing board or broke a window I would get in trouble. I seemed to need something more than the “d” word or the “h” word to vent my anger. The door was closed. No one could possibly hear me. I can even remember my tone of voice, which was lethargic and barely audible as I said “God” in anger.
My anger was no match to the shame that I felt, shame like no other time in my life before or since. I had a revelation that was life impacting. I decided at that moment that no matter how mad I ever get or what words I might ever say I will never again take God’s name in vain, ever. My older friend Gene Rice told me once that whenever he cusses he asks God to forgive him. I knew I must do this but I felt I must promise never to do it again. I was afraid. I was afraid to make a promise to God because I didn't know if I could keep that promise. I didn’t know if I had that much self-control. Where would I be if I broke a promise to God? What if I said it again? What if I should get so mad that I put the “d” word after it? Would I be able to control my anger? That was way too big of a risk to take.
I looked out the window that I was standing by and thought about beautiful things like the rare winter mornings when I would see snow on the ground and on the trees and I would bolt outside to play in it. I thought about my parents and my family. I looked at the walk-in closet with the basics in cloths, probably a football and a baseball and glove, and a very few toys. I wasn't spoiled. I thought about Sunday School. I thought about countless things that I was grateful for such as a happy life to live, the ability to play tetherball at all, much less to be very good at it. I felt like I had betrayed all that.
Mother would be in soon to tuck me in, probably sing a lullaby and say the Father Mother God prayer and The Lord’s Prayer with me. I thought about the Lord’s Prayer. I wasn’t sure if it would ever work again for me again since it says, “hallowed be thy name” and I took God’s name in vain. Mother must never know. She never did.
That night after mother tucked me in and before going to sleep I talked to God. I made sort of a covenant with God. I promised I would try my hardest never to take God’s name in vain again and asked for His help.
I didn’t need much help. That was over fifty years ago.
