Praying for Strangers

By River Jordan, Nashville, Tennessee

As appeared in

The Nashville bus terminal was packed. It was the first week in January 2009, and my husband, Owen, and I were bidding farewell to my mother-in-law.

Somehow my gaze was drawn to a woman waiting at the ticket counter. Tell her you’ll pray for her, a voice inside me said. Remember your New Year’s resolution: Pray for a stranger every day. I’d been trying to ignore it.

Don’t get me wrong. I pray. Often. But I’m an introvert. A say-my-prayers-in-private kind of person. Besides, I had much bigger things on my mind than worrying about random strangers.

Both of my sons, Chris and Nick, had been deployed right after the holidays. One to Iraq, one to Afghanistan. They’d be gone for a year. I’m proud of my military boys, but I was a total wreck.

What if this turned out to be our last Christmas together? The last time I saw them together? Fear flooded my mind. How could I pray for people I didn’t know when I was the one who needed prayer? And a whole lot of it.

Yet here I was, staring at the woman at the ticket counter and I couldn’t ignore that voice inside any longer. I’d promised to do this and she was my stranger. I mustered up my nerve and walked up to her. She’s going to think I’m crazy.

“Hi, my name is River,” I said. “And... I have this resolution to pray for a stranger every day, and today you’re my stranger so I’ll be thinking about you and saying special prayers for you.”

“Oh, honey! My name is Annie. This is unbelievable! Do you know what I was saying to God just this morning?”

“No, ma’am...”

“I was saying my prayers when I asked God, ‘Is there anybody in this whole wide world who is praying for me?’”

This was unbelievable! “Well, it looks like I am,” I said.

Maybe there were other people out there who needed to know someone—even a stranger—was praying for them. From that day forward I tried to be that someone. I prayed for a stranger every day.

I can’t say I chose them exactly. I didn’t have any particular system. Sometimes it seemed like they were chosen for me. I’d turn the corner and a person would come into view and it was like an inexplicable urging: This is the one. It might be a cashier, a man on his lawnmower or a lady at the grocery.

That was Estelle. She was in front of the supermarket collecting contributions for a kids’ ministry. When I told her I’d pray for her she asked my name.

“I’m gonna pray for you too,” she said. “Matter of fact, I’m gonna pray for you right now!” She pulled me close to her. I wanted to say, “No, don’t pray for me here, in public. Pray later, like I do!” Then I felt the balm of her words rush over me, asking for goodness in my life. Pray on, Estelle! I thought. Pray on.

“I’ll pray for you again when God brings you to mind,” she told me. “I won’t even need to remember your name. I’ll see your face and I’ll know.” I knew just what she meant.

That encounter with Estelle boosted my confidence. If she could pray for me so boldly, surely I could do the same for another.