Exam Prayer Quotes

A soldier who looked as if he were around fifteen, with soft, smooth cheeks, lay next to Ilan with his eyes closed, curled up and mumbling quickly, devotedly. Ilan touched his leg and asked him to say a prayer for him. Without opening his eyes, the boy said he wasn't praying. He wasn't religious at all, he was just reciting chemistry equations. That's how he used to quiet himself before matriculation exams, and it always worked. Ilan asked him to say a few equations for him.

I want to make sure we understand in this reminder what duʿā’ is not? Duʿā’ is not placing an order at a restaurant. Duʿā’ is not placing an order for a product. When you place an order, you pay something and you get what you expected. You place an order for French fries; you’re not supposed to get a burger. You’re supposed to get French fries. When you place an order for a laptop, you’re not supposed to get a phone in the mail. You get what you ordered, and when you order something you obviously pay for it. You paid for it, so you’re expecting what you paid for. When you and I make duʿā’, we pay nothing. We pay nothing. When you pay nothing, then you have no expectations, you have no right to complain about what you get. You don’t get to say, ‘Hey! Wait, I asked for a hundred on my exam. I made duʿā’ last night. I still got a forty. What is this Allah? I placed the right order!’ You and I don’t get to do that. Allah is not here to serve you and me as customers. We’re used to customer service in this world. We are used to it so much that we think the way we are going to deal with Allah, is the same. Some of the young people today; unfortunately, their relationship with their parents has become like their parents are supposed to provide them customer service. ‘Mum, I asked you to buy me Grand Theft Auto! How come you didn’t get it yet?’, ‘I told you I’m going to do my homework!’ Like your homework is payment or something, right? Because we feel so entitled all the time, we bring this entitled attitude when we turn to Allah and we make duʿā’ to Him. ‘Yā Allāh, heal me.’ ‘Yā Allāh, get me a promotion.’ ‘Yā Allāh, do this for me or do that for me.’ And it doesn’t happen; and you’re like: ‘Forget this, I don’t need prayer. I even took the time out to pray and He didn’t give!

When we try to create a blessing the way the world does, we create problems for ourselves. Whether its compromising on taxes, cheating on an exam or something else; when we operate this way we are allowing weeds to choke out God’s promise that he will supply all of our needs. The end result is stress and turmoil.            Often times we seek help from people when it’s God we should be seeking. The end result is that people get the praise and glory for our deliverance. There are times in our lives when God wants to show up mightily in lives; He doesn’t want to share the glory with someone else. But like Sarah, we doubt that God could possible work out our situation and we turn to friends and family when we should be turning to His promises.

Calling students on the first day of school and praying for them. Sending students photos taken of them at youth group events. (Always get double prints.) Dropping by their workplaces just to say hi. Attending the last quarter, inning, or set of their games. (Although you can drop by earlier, coming at the end affords the opportunity to interact with your students after-ward.) Mailing favorite snacks to arrive on their birthdays. Calling students' parents just to brag on them. (e.g.,“Mrs. Gates, your son Billy is doing some amazing things with computer graphics for our small groups!”) Taping notes of encouragement to the front door during exams or other stressful periods. (Ring the doorbell and disappear.) Actually taping notes of encouragement directly on students. Inviting students over for dinner. Letting a group of (same-sex) students spend the night. Following up a few days after a student shares a prayer request. Using your students as positive illustrations in your message or Bible study. (It's always a good idea to get permission first.) Mailing goofy postcards for no reason. Dropping off brain food (a double cheeseburger) the night before a big test. Asking students—on a one-to-one basis—to pray for you. Remembering students’ names

She and De Chika expected Vivek to go overseas for university, with a certainty they passed down to him—a knowledge that his time here at home was temporary and that a door was waiting as soon as he was done with his WAEC exams. Later I realized that it was the spilling gold of the dowry that funded this belief, but back then I thought they were just being optimistic, and it surprised me, because even my own mother who believed in thick prayers had never mentioned me going overseas.

It wasn't likely that I would die. Dave didn't know that then. Prayer isn't about likelihood anyway, it's about desire---loving someone enough to get on your knees and ask for her to be saved. When he cried in that chapel, it wasn't empathy---it was something else. His kneeling wasn't a way to feel my pain but to request that it end.

In Madame Bovary, Félicité the maid is always scuttling away from some new abuse at the hands of her self-involved mistress. She seeks sweetness as consolation: “since Madame always left the key in the sideboard, Félicité took a small supply of sugar every night and ate it when she was all alone in her bed, after she had said her prayers.” How could sugar still be necessary after prayer? It offers salve to the physical body, immediate comfort, something the flesh can trust while the spirit is being patient. Think of the sadness of two women living in the same house, both hungry for stolen increments of different pleasures—text and lust and sugar—both keeping these pleasures secret because they are ashamed to admit their hungers.

The same hunger sends us to prayer and sugar and sweetener and text: the rush of comfort that comes from quick taste, the body suddenly filled with a sensation beyond itself—foreign and seductive. Sentimentality