war•ri•or

1. One who is engaged in or experienced in battle.
2. One who is engaged aggressively or energetically in an activity, cause, or conflict.

Prayer warriors have always been held in high esteem where I come from. As a boy growing up in the church, I stood in awe of their power, authority and ability to include every person, place and thing, many times over, in a long winded prayer without missing a beat. In those days, during a public meeting, we went down on our knees to pray, it was called a “knee-drill,” appropriately defined: Drill: “repetition of a set pattern.”

And my church didn’t have those plushy padded kneeling benches, just a bare linoleum floor over hard, cold unforgiving concrete, quite the opposite of “forgive those who trespass against us.” You could count upon the same three prayer warriors repetitiously dominating a 45 minute prayer meeting. I must confess that my aching knees, some six decades later, are not as forgiving as they used to be. Nonetheless, my esteem for those warriors hasn’t lessened. In some ways, I long for their return but with one minor condition – knee pads mandatory.

I’ve watched our prayer posture mature over the years, becoming much more dignified, respectable and institutionalized. It’s now called “prayer posturing,” whereby clergy vie for an elevated place at prestigious gatherings, the invocation desirous, with the benediction coming in a distant second. Now there is political maneuvering for those plum spots, closet prayers no longer highly revered. Today these prayers are well structured and carefully worded, spontaneity no longer tolerated, impression everything.

Presently there is a big brouhaha over the Invocator selected for a major inaugural event, where prayer and political posturing have commingled together on the international stage. The secular left and the religious right each have their noses (or is it their knees?) uncompromisingly bent out of joint, both driven by a self-righteous gay agenda.

Ah, how I long for those old prayer warrior, knee-drill days. WAIT A MINUTE! The repetitive theme of those prayers is coming back to me slowly…”Oh, God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, crooks, adulterers, or, heaven forbid, like this tax man. I fast twice a week and tithe on all my income” (Luke 18:11-12).
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21st Century interpretation: “…or, heaven forbid, like this gay man.”

Halos!

There has been some real excitement here on the island of Oahu since our return. The University of Hawaii Warrior Football Team won its final game, the only team in the nation with a perfect record, thus earning an invite to the Sugar Bowl. The stadium was filled to capacity, and afterwards there was a “Hallelujah Windup” in Waikiki, keeping us up half the night. If they win the Sugar Bowl, you can rest assured that their helmets will be replaced with halos.

The Honolulu Marathon took place last weekend with thousands of runners and even more revelers. Fireworks very early in the morning (to announce the start of the race), startled us out of our blissful reverie (visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads). Later on we ventured over to the finish line for the "Hallelujah Windup" which lasted deep into the night.

Look, who in their right mind would get up at 4:00 a.m. and pay $140 to run 26 miles, only to receive a crummy yellow T-shirt with the inscription, “2007 Finisher, Honolulu Marathon.” And to top it off, celebrate that insanity all night long! Needless to say, I felt very inferior, sticking out like a sore halo in that sea of yellow T-shirts, wearing my old, grubby, faded white “Jesus Saves” one.

The “Triple Crown of Surfing” is another annual December event out on Oahu’s North Shore, concluding with the Pipeline Masters – waves sometimes higher than a five-story building. And the Aussies swept it all. The Pipeline break is a wave that literally halos every surfer who passes through and under it. And thousands braved that primitive, two-lane road to watch these haloed rides, yours truly included. The “Hallelujah Windup” was celebrated, bumper-to-bumper deep into the night on the long trek home.

Last, but not least, was our four-year old granddaughter’s preschool Christmas pageant the other day. She was (is) an angel and spoke her line confidently and to perfection, making the buttons on her Tutu’s (Grandparent’s) tunics pop. The climax came, however, during the benedictory prayer when all of the precious little angels started throwing their halos at each other – the quintessential “Hallelujah Windup,” don’t you think? I may be mistaken, but I think my church did it that way once upon a time, celebrating deep into the night while tossing their “hallelujah halos” at one another. DIDN’T THEY?

By the way, her spoken line was, “PEACE ON EARTH!”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests. (Luke 2:13-14 NIV)

I am leaving you with a gift-peace of mind and heart! And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. (John 14:27 TLB)

God’s saints need to give their halos a hallelujah workout every once-in-a-while, DON’T YOU THINK? Why should the world have all the fun?

Note 1: “Halo Tossing” is an art form perfected by the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. Admittedly, sometimes the Spirit is not present in the tossing.

Note 2: “Hallelujah Windup” is Salvation Army Speak for the victory celebration that occurs following prayer meetings where seeking souls have found “peace of mind and heart!” Pictured below is a photo I took at the Pipeline Break showing the “halo wave” beginning to take shape, followed by that precious angel mentioned above (Her halo now snugly in place).