Preston Gillham

My friend Kevin died of cancer on Saturday, but he wasn’t just my friend. He had a lot of friends—praying friends—who are godly, righteous people. Certainly hundreds, if not several thousand, souls were imploring God to heal Kevin.

James writes, “The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much” (5:16 b), which begs the question: Did Kevin not have any righteous people—or the requisite number of righteous people—praying for his healing?

A friend from another state called on Sunday to report that during their church service the pastor reported that “Sally’s” struggle against cancer was progressing toward victory. The cancer in her brain was gone and other, cancer indicators had declined by 50% over the last week. “Keep praying,” the pastor said. “Your prayers are working.”

Why are the righteous people praying for Sally experiencing success and the righteous people who prayed for Kevin suffering defeat?

Part of the answer lies in this: the definition of “accomplishes much,” from the James quotation. Someone we love, like Kevin, is diagnosed with a dread ill and we presume God wishes him healed. We pray, and we assemble teams of pray-ers, and we pray hard, fervent supplications for what we deem in Kevin’s best interest and our preference. At best, God will agree with us. More troubling, God is not paying attention to Kevin’s plight, but our prayers get His attention and healing occurs. Or…we conclude we are stuck with a God who doesn’t care, plays favorites, or is capricious. All are bad options.

What if accomplishing Kevin’s healing is not on God’s agenda? In other words, in His sovereignty, He knows healing Kevin is a bad plan.

We presume God agrees with our assessment, that healing is the right and best thing, and we effectively pray to that end. Then, when Kevin dies—and Sally lives—we question our fervor, our righteousness, and God’s fairness. When we are disappointed, we lapse easily into assuming we didn’t try hard enough, pray long enough, or assemble a formidable enough team to storm the gates of heaven and secure Kevin’s healing. Or, we are left with a God we would rather avoid.

And the devil has a field day in our disillusioned souls.

So why pray at all? If God is going to do what He’s going to do regardless of our prayers, no matter how effective, what’s the point?

At first glance, it would appear we should carefully define “accomplish much,” and once done, then pray successfully in agreement with God’s will and enjoy the control we derive by discerning the mind of God. I’m not buying that. When I pray like that it feels like I’m negotiating a real estate deal.

When confronted with Kevin’s cancer nine months ago, I went to my place of prayer: the streets in my neighborhood. I prayed, and said, “Father, what are you thinking?” I didn’t wait for His answer, but quickly got sidetracked by my shock and dismay and reverted to telling Father the outcome I desired with this bleak diagnosis. On this went: “Father, what are you thinking?”—but no break to let God answer, before—“Let me tell you what I’m thinking.”

I was persuasive. I asked for favors, pleaded for mercy, and bargained for healing. I hammered on the gates of heaven. I cried. I wailed. When I saw Kevin’s pain, I prayed more fervently.

You know what? This is typical, normal behavior for a friend who has gotten shocking, unpalatable news. It’s the rough equivalent of running around in a panic when the skillet on the stove catches fire.

Not long after Kevin’s diagnosis, my initial shock calmed, and I went to the streets and said, “Father, what are you thinking?” And then, I was quiet. I waited for His reply. Then, back and forth we went in dialogue about the concern at hand: Kevin’s health and the extenuating issues. This is the rough equivalent of realizing the skillet is on fire, gaining my wits, and managing the situation.

Here is my conviction regarding complex issues like cancer: Father wants us to tell Him what is on our mind. He wants to hear from us without edit. I believe He longs for an honest, forthright conversation with us. But take note: Conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. If I do all the talking when God and I get together, we don’t get nearly as much accomplished as when we communicate.

I just hung up the phone from talking to my friend, WO. Man-to-man, friend-to-friend, adult-to-adult, WO and I discussed our loss with Kevin’s passing. Back and forth our conversation went: talk, listen; talk, listen. That’s how dialogue works. One way communication is called a sermon, or a lecture. For the most part, sermons and lectures are not very effective forms of communication. Interaction, on the other hand, is much more effective, meaningful, and powerful. This is what God desires. It is what we are equipped to do. It is what bonds us together.

Prayer is a dialogue. God, in Christ, made us righteous people so He could interface with us. The seizing of that reality affords us the effective ability to communicate with God. And make no mistake, that communication is a two-way street—a dialogue. This “accomplishes much.”

Our prayers regarding Kevin’s cancer were not in vain. How can visiting with God about a subject that is important, like Kevin, be considered pointless? Were you not inspired as you considered Kevin’s life? Were you not challenged to walk more closely with God as a result of discussing Kevin’s life with God and others? Are you not a better person after discussing Kevin with God?

I am, and in this way, my prayer did “accomplish much.” Effective prayer is not about Kevin or Sally or cancer or healing. The accomplishment is defined by God, and the only way to discover the definition, is to discuss it with God.

Do I miss Kevin? Terribly. Would I bring him back if I could? Not in a million years. Am I still discussing Kevin’s life and death with God in prayer? You better believe it.

The loss of our dear friend Kevin occupied our hearts and minds this past week. Preston will share more of his journey with grief in the days and weeks ahead. Yet in the midst of grief we are focused in our prayer for the book and by Father’s grace the production of No Mercy is on course. The team is diligently working on the various components. Pray specifically for these team members:

Leslie, hard copy layout designer, who is about to begin her work on the book. Pray for expedient and creative approach.

Lindsay, electronic layout creator, is hard at work already. She specifically expressed her gratitude and the impact she feels because of our prayers.

Stephen, cover designer, is at the completion stage but the design needs to be tweaked so that it is “just right.” May God’s creativity intensify in him.

In addition, Preston is receiving positive comments and encouraging notes from readers of the manuscript. One of them said, “I loved the story and hated to put it down.” Another one expressed, “I have never understood my walk in Christ but as I read, I am getting it.” Personally, I am not surprised since the book impacted me with every read although I had heard some of Preston’s ideas through his mentorship. Now, I am eager and excited for more of God’s kids to read No Mercy and as a result walk in freedom and unshakable confidence in Daddy’s love.

Till the next time, be blessed,

Reny Madjarska
Head Prayer Tribeswoman

Thank you for praying for me this week. The death of my friend—our friend—Kevin Walker, Walkit.org, is a monstrous loss. I told a friend today after lunch that there is no way to process Kevin’s life or death with our intellects.

If there was a recipe for greatness then we could bottle it and sell it. If greatness could be defined then we could study it. If greatness could be apprehended then we all could possess it. But there is no recipe, no definition, and no hand hold. Thinking about greatness is illusive. However, greatness can be recognized with the heart.

What made Kevin a great man? His intellect was an aspect of him. I knew him well, but he surprised me regularly with his incisive ability to assemble disparate pieces of information into keen wisdom.

He wasn’t short on emotion and didn’t hesitate to demonstrate what he was feeling. He cried, laughed, loved, touched, and talked readily. Having worked in Eastern Europe for years, I’m somewhat accustomed to being kissed on each cheek by men when they greet me there. But I never quite got over Kevin kissing me on the head and blessing me. The only other person who kisses me on the head and blesses me is God, and I haven’t gotten over that either, but Kevin helped me not resist Him.

Kevin was a good musician, a skillful player, a fine composer, and a gifted lyricist. He and Bobby Price won a Grammy, after all. He led worship like no one else I’ve ever encountered—and I’ve encountered a lot in my profession.

No. Kevin was all of these things, but he was—is—more. He was a man of heart who walked with God, whom he called Papa. This composite, this integration, this blending of all that was in him into an expression of his heart and God’s heart is a decent definition of Kevin. Add a streak of courage, a fiery tenacity, a resilient frame, and the description is closer.

The trouble with great men is that when they pass it catches us off guard. We are left with hard questions that roil inside us in a tumult.

One of the beauties in the passing of a great man is that it holds us accountable to manage what is in our soul versus going about our business as we are prone to do when other men pass from us. If we are not aware, denial of our loss can drown us in their wake. But riding the wave of their loss can wash us with what made them great and transport us to a new place.

Like you if you knew Kevin, I’m suffering my loss. In time, I will stabilize, but I don’t want to cling to a reef of expedient stability–like work, for example, or trite dismissals–in fear of engaging the grieving process.

No. It is not time to drop anchor or search the horizon for a safe harbor. Now is the time to cry for no apparent reason. To recall and laugh. To be quiet. To cling to my friends and bury my face in their necks. Now it is time to celebrate that my Father, in His wisdom, equipped me—and you—with the capacity to grieve and remember tenaciously that He promised to never leave me destitute.

As I do this, then I pay tribute to a great man, who in death created a current to transport me through life. My final words to Kevin were, “I love you. I’ll see you soon.” I thought that meant I would see him on Wednesday. Now, of course, I understand it meant I will see him shortly.

Last night Preston lost a dear friend after a long and fierce battle with cancer. For many months Preston had coached him to walk courageously through darkness and to allow pain to become a mentor to his soul and spirit. Our brother Kevin is being mentored by Jesus himself now. Yet, Preston needs your prayers as he ministers to the family and mourns the loss of a very close friend.

The work on No Mercy might be slightly delayed but it will not stop. The release of No Mercy is at a critical juncture. The final edits are completed. Thank you Lord! Several versions of the book cover are ready, so we need to know which one is Father’s choice. We are in need of an electronic store offering the best customer experience and yet at a reasonable price. Difficult to find. Not impossible for God. Also, the shipping and handling component is still missing. Please intercede for a creative solution which will serve people well and get the book in as many hands as possible.

Grieving with Preston and the family,

Reny Madjarska
Head Prayer Tribeswoman

Last night Preston lost a dear friend after a long and fierce battle with cancer. For many months Preston had coached him to walk courageously through darkness and to allow pain to become a mentor to his soul and spirit. Our brother Kevin is being mentored by Jesus himself now. Yet, Preston needs your prayers as he ministers to the family and mourns the loss of a very close friend.

The work on No Mercy might be slightly delayed but it will not stop. The release of No Mercy is at a critical juncture. The final edits are completed. Thank you Lord! Several versions of the book cover are ready, and we need to know which one is Father’s choice. We are in need of an electronic store offering the best customer experience and yet at a reasonable price. Difficult to find. Not impossible for God. Also, the shipping and handling component is still missing. Please intercede for a creative solution which will serve people well and get the book in as many hands as possible.

Grieving with Preston and the family,

Reny Madjarska

Head Prayer Tribeswoman

I believe that our email glitch was satan’s scare tactic. A warning and an attempt for derailment. I take it as a compliment. We all want our efforts to count and apparently we are infringing on the kingdom of darkness. Yet we know that the enemy has other tricks and this is the time to stay focused on praying and interceding.

The circle of readers of the book is beginning to expand. We are entering a territory where criticism will flow along with praise and may even exceed it. Criticism is not a bad thing. But criticism has a different dimension when one lays his life down and walks in vulnerability so that others can know our awesome, loving and kind Father. The tongue has the power of life and death, words can kill or build up. (Prov 18:21). Would you take an offensive posture and pray that any words raised against our work will only propel it forward, and that which is meant to destroy Preston, the team, and /or his book will give birth to glorious expressions of God’s power and might, love, joy, peace, abundance. And, please, do not pray against criticism, but do pray against indifference!

Till the next time, be blessed,

Reny Madjarska
Head Prayer Tribeswoman

I received an email update today from my editor. Here’s what he wrote:

“I’m still working away here. It’s been a challenge – not because of the manuscript (it’s in great shape), but because of life stuff and illness. I’m guessing some spiritual warfare thing might be at play, too. Would make sense.”

One of the misconceptions we have about warfare, especially in the West, is that war is civil—sort of a gentleman’s sport. If your opponent drops his sword, you allow him time to pick it up again. If he stumbles and falls, you give him a chance to get up and gather his wits.

The civility of not kicking a man when he’s down is a fair rule, and it is, in sanctioned matches. In the ring, the referee monitors the fight. If a fighter is cut, the ref examines him to see if he can safely continue. If he falls, the ref counts to ten while his opponent waits in his corner.

Warrior, you and I face a real enemy, on a real battlefield, but there is no referee, and it is not civil. To believe that your enemy will not kick you while you are down is a delusion. If you hold to that belief you will become disillusioned.

This is one of themes in “No Mercy.” Don’t expect mercy from your enemy. He is hell-bent on no mercy for you. Spiritual warfare is not a sanctioned fight. It is not civil. It is not fair.

Our brother, Steve, my editor, is in the thick of things. He is sick, and has been for a few weeks. His family is stressed. Life has closed in much tighter than normal, and he has associated these battles with the spiritual subject matter in, “No Mercy.” That is a noteworthy observation for us in the Prayer Tribe.

I think he is correct: Steve is under spiritual attack. Who wouldn’t be, given the content of “No Mercy?”

Tribe, would you intercede for Steve? He needs health, focus, and protection. He needs courageous souls to stand in the gap. He needs for you to intercede—now, tomorrow, and the next day. He anticipates returning the manuscript to me early next week.

Reny or I will be in touch in a few days with an update from my front.

Preston

It’s Thursday night—probably Friday morning by the time you read this post. I was just sitting by the fire and thinking backward when it occurred to me that I should let you know what’s on my mind.

I fought a brutal battle against feeling insignificant for years–and have now written a book about it called, “No Mercy.” The battle over significance culminated on another cold night a few years ago while I was sitting on a curb, in my neighborhood, with my dog. It’s a story for another day, but I came to realize that evening that I was significant because my Heavenly Father chooses to spend time with me.

The victory came from space. Not outer space, but realizing that since no one else—not the dog that was sitting between my legs, nor my dear wife with whom I sleep—can occupy the same time and space that I do, I’m singular. These can be close, but they can’t be completely integrated into where I am.

Therefore, no one occupies the same place in time and space that I do…except for my Father, who lives in me. That makes me significant. Singular. Important. Noticed and valuable by virtue of the fact that God spends time alone with me.

He could be anywhere. Everywhere. And He is. But most importantly, He is in me, where I am, and no one else is there—can’t be—and that makes me singularly significant.

Like I said, it’s a story for another day.

Significance and recognition—the subject of my thoughts this cold night—are not synonyms. Father resolves my need to be significant by connecting with me, and with me alone, in my space and time and place.

But recognition is different. Of course, He recognizes, e.g. “Well done, good and faithful servant,” but I believe He intends for those around us to play a part in our recognition.

Herein is the problem. God is dependable and absolutely faithful, and I wish the same could be said for me. But I am human, fatally flawed, and undependable. When humanity is introduced into your equation, you should expect disappointment. Drag.

I need to be recognized. To be sure, I won’t die without it, but I will suffer without it. Analogously, I need to be touched, but I won’t die without it. Like my need to be touched, I need to be recognized, and while Father is sufficient to carry me forward with/without touch, He is sufficient to carry me forward with/without recognition. I believe this. I believe Him. So, I’m OK in the long run, but I feel vulnerable sitting snuggly by my fire.

It is tricky to manage this battle against recognition—to be noticed. It is not as clearly defined as the battle with significance. It comes down to what a friend of mine calls “keeping your own counsel.” From my experience, keeping my own counsel is like balancing the ingredients in a complex recipe. Get it right, it’s good. Get it wrong, you feed it to Fred (that’s our garbage disposal’s name). Fred lives large at our house.

There are those aspects of life that Father deems so important that He singularly takes care of them, e.g. significance. There are those aspects of life that Father partners with us to achieve, e.g. recognition.

You heard from Preston this week about the important editorial work that Steve is doing at this time.

What I need to add is an encouragement to pray for all the details of the printing process: finding the most suitable printing company, layout and design components coming smoothly together; design and cover of the eBook done well. At not so distant future marketing efforts will begin as well. At the end, it is important to have a cohesive product which communicates Father’s heart to those who know Him and those who do not. He greatly cares about all the details in our personal and professional lives and through our prayers we are agreeing that we work under His guidance, direction, will and pleasure. He honors that. Please keep praying.

Till the next time, be blessed,

Reny Madjarska
Head Prayer Tribeswoman