I’ve come to believe that nearly every prayer can be distilled down to three simple, dynamic, and passionate words: “God help me.” The next few blog posts explore this powerfully shaping prayer and how three simple words can make all the difference in the world.

There have been a few times in my life when I prayed these words with urgency. The first time was when I was seven or so. Swimming pools were a rare event in my childhood, but one particular pool stands out in my mind. A party was in full swing, adults flung all over the area, lounging or talking. Kids were largely left to their own devices.

With no formal swimming lessons, I was commanded to stay in the shallow end. Which I did. Sort of. Even then I knew that “shallow” is a relative term so I held onto the edge of the pool and inched along it. Some might call it pride. Girls were probably involved. I was nearly to the ladder at the far end of the pool, the deep end, when my hand slipped. Just the one, but as I surged to re-grip the tiles, my remaining hand slipped. Just like that, my head slipped below the water’s surface.

I remember straining, kicking, wracking my body to climb the water that seemed to pull me down.

But what I remember most clearly is sticking my hand out of the water as high as I could. I was pleading with all my being that my dad would see me, that someone, anyone, would save me. As the strength drained from my body, my arm gradually followed me into the depths. First the elbow. Then the forearm. Then my wrist. My knuckles. I remember distinctly noting when the water finally covered the last tip of my longest finger. I gave my soul to God in that moment. I remember thinking, “This is it. I’m dying young. Alone at the bottom of a pool.”

Suddenly I wasn’t praying that my dad would save me. I was praying that God would save me. I didn’t know how. I didn’t honestly care, but my whole being was fixed on him. “God help me!”

My prayer was frantic, determined, at first. But as I sank further, my prayer drifted slowly into something more feeble. My tiny lungs were collapsing under the strain as was my little prayer. Mine was a mouse’s prayer. Still, it had the same form: “God help me.”

I survived. Obviously. At the last desperate moment I felt the surrounding waters seethe. Strong arms lifted me against the water’s pressure and onto the pool’s edge. After I coughed up the swallowed water and terror, I opened my eyes and saw Dad, beleaguered but relieved, fully clothed and dripping wet.

I didn’t feel any strong arms when I was 33. I suffered a health collapse so rapid that within a few short weeks, I could barely read, speak, walk, or eat. Nearly overnight, I developed unexplainable Parkinson-like tremors in my hands, head, and torso. No one knew why. It was like God plunged me into the waters and then he turned his back and walked away. He took with him the hills, the songbirds, and the sunshine slung over his shoulder. I was left alone in the dark. Dead.

I’ve since decided that drowning is, perhaps, the best thing that ever happened to me. It might be hard to believe, but I think it could be the best thing that happens to you, as well.

My suffering showed me who I really was. Stripped of my ambition, professional preening, and basic animal functions, I discovered my neediness.

If you’re anything like me, you have suffered too. Like me, maybe you tried to ignore it, or get through it, or conquer it. I was under the false impression, the fantasy, that I was in charge. I’m not. You’re not.
Thank God.

Suffering helped me see, finally, what God sees all the time when he looks at me:

• I am a frail man.

• I am a needy man.

• I am a destitute man.

  It’s time we imagined reality the way God sees it. As we do, we’ll notice a new kind of peace invading our thoughts, the kind of peace that passes our understanding.
  You want peace and joy and hope just as I do. I found them at the bottom of the sea. I found them when I embraced my neediness. Ever since then my prayers have been a variation on a simple theme: God help me.
  That’s a prayer for the destitute. That’s a prayer for you and me.

Coming Attractions:

We’ll keep visiting this simple three word prayer next time and learn to embrace our limitations. While you’re waiting for that post, shoot me some stories of when you prayed this prayer.