Yesterday I received an invitation to a challenge from a dear friend. Would you commit to pray for me every day for the next 30 days for 15 minutes? I’ll do at least two hours.

Every day?!!!??? I cried out. For thirty days?!!!???

Except for inhaling my java juice each morning, I don’t do ANYTHING every day for fifteen minutes!

I can’t do that! I protested. I am too busy. Plus, I am not even the praying type.

See, most of my praying barely reaches the interior of the ceiling of my skull anyway and what good is that going to do to anyone? In addition, even if these prayers reach beyond my cranium, the challenge seemed more like entering into a month long wrestling match with God, and last time I heard somebody doing that (for just one day!), guess who walked away crippled?

No. I am not going to do it. I said to myself, finally convinced. No way.

A long pause.

Hm…?

Er… would You like me to do it?

Even longer pause.

And even though I am not the math wiz either, I started doing a little math. There are 24 hours in each day. My kids learned this in Kindergarten. And 60 minutes in each hour. First grade. Now the calculator comes in handy. Sixty minutes times twenty four hours totals 1440 minutes I have each day. And 15 minutes is about 1 %. It’s like asking for a penny from a buck. A penny!

And you think that’s too much?!!

Suddenly, a crack appears in my crusted heart and mind.

I am the one who needs this prayer thing, more than my friend!

If love and compassion towards my friend (who, by the way, deserves so much more than just a meager one percent) couldn’t move me to crawl outside myself, the sobering truth about my distorted vision sends me out flying. It will do a world of good for my soul to peel my super-glued eyes off of myself for just a penny of my time and focus on somebody outside my puny universe of self-importance. And when one has peeked outside, who knows what other wondrous sights await everyone who accepts the challenge...