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Why I pray for America

I wrote the following about four or five years ago. It is a passion I intend to pursue the rest of my days:

As I look at my nation, I must pray. It’s in my DNA; it is built into the very fabric of my relationship with God. When I see obstacles in my nation, I am challenged by my rich heritage to stand my ground and trust God.

I feel I owe it to the Founders who pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to guard, nurture, protect, and defend the fledgling nation.

I owe it to past generations of men and women of God—Charles Finney, D. L. Moody, William J. Seymour, Billy Sunday, Maria Woodworth Etter, and all the rest, both known and unknown—who took advantage of their American liberty to pour out their lives for the cause of Christ.

I owe it to my dad, who although he never claimed to know God intimately, was willing as a young man to risk his life in service to a country which guaranteed that his daughter, yet to be born, would bear the sacred right to lead her own life, speak openly, and worship God without any fear that acting on her convictions could lead to loss of her freedom…

I must pray. I must pray the Word of God over my nation. I must seek her deliverance when evil threatens her. I must stand my ground even if it takes the rest of my life. I can do no less, so help me God.