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Being married to a Muslim, I found myself on a regular basis beginning and ending every prayer in the name of God. I would rarely pray, acknowledge, or do anything in Jesus’ name. I, like, many believers felt it was the politically correct way to pray and speak. Until one day, I was praying and had been praying for quite some time. On this day, I started my prayer by saying “Oh Kind and Gracious Heavenly Father, I thank you for this day, and this moment” and I continued with my gratefulness, that led to me asking for special treatment as His child, and I closed the prayer by acknowledging God as God, as Lord, and as King. As I went to stand up, I had this strange feeling that my prayer was fake; it wasn’t sincere, and it felt rehearsed. My prayer felt scripted. It felt as if I had spoken to a stranger by first thanking him for his gifts, asking him for more gifts, and closing with an “oh, by the way, you are my God so I should be able to ask you for whatever I want because you are God of gods, Lord of lords, and King of kings. It was this day I realized my prayers had become politically correct rituals and not relational. I was praying to someone whom I didn’t have a relationship; someone who I only saw as an authority figure and could bless me with stuff. So, on this day, I asked myself “why do I no longer pray in the name of Jesus? What happened to our relationship? And, does it even matter if I pray in Jesus’ Name?

On May 31, 2017, at two o’clock in the morning, after researching, studying, and preaching a sermon on “What it means to pray in Jesus Name,” I received a knock at my door with a voice on the other side telling me my son had been shot. It was my son’s best friend pounding my door and screaming the words “Cortez has been shot! Please come now. Please! Please! Please help him”! As I sit here and type these very words while reliving this moment, my body is overflowing with anxiety. My heart is racing; blood pressure increases, and my stomach is churning. It was and still is one of the most traumatic moments of my life.

The things I remembered most about this morning are the faint sound of my sister Cassandra praying in tongues, my state of confusion, and my inability to pray. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I started a quick prayer by saying “Oh Kind and Gracious Heavenly Father” and soon aborted it because I realize I couldn’t follow up with the words “I thank you for this day and this moment,” which had become my ritual prayer. Next, I said “Oh God,” but nothing else and then the stranges thing happen my sister-in-law Helen, who had attended church and heard my message, text me these five powerful words “In the Name of Jesus” – nothing else. At that very moment, I started to repeat these words, “In the Name of Jesus; In Jesus Mighty Name; In the Name of Jesus.” I instantly felt a stillness – as if everything had stopped. The sound had left the room; I could no longer hear my sister’s voice; all of my humanistic senses left my body, and the Holy Spirit entered. Immediately, I could think — Jesus’ wisdom; I had a sense of calmness – Jesus’ peace; I could hear God’s voice — His Spirit, and I felt His warmth – Jesus’ love.