My phone repeatedly notified me of incoming messages on the morning of my settlement conference. Around a dozen people knew about the conference and had been praying for days. Actually, they’d been praying for weeks and months – over a year and a half since this journey began. They knew details. They prayed for me, my ex, every attorney who had been involved, the judge, my daughters, and so on.
It had been a long haul with many delays and discouragements. These people became my reminders of truth, keepers of accountability, and generous givers of grace. They were scattered across multiple states, with some just a stone’s throw from my house. They were by my side.
These people weren’t praying for me. They were praying with me. They knew we well enough to know the process of the conference was much more important than the content or result. I wanted to be at peace throughout it. I wanted attorneys on both sides to be grounded in truth and wisdom. I wanted to honor God, trusting him to strengthen me and carrying myself with his posture. I wanted less of me and more of God.
And these faith-filled people prayed for God’s presence and peace together. I could almost hear their cacophony as a beautiful background to a morning filled with the ugly rubble of betrayal, rejection, and deceit.