Can't Miss

I made a slingshot when I was a boy. I found a Y-shaped stick in the yard, peeled off the bark with a penknife, and stretched a thick rubber band around both forks of the Y. I shot rocks at tin cans, and in mischievous moments considered taking aim at my brothers (but never actually did so).

In Sunday school I admired the skill of young David, who fired one smooth stone and hit Goliath smack on the forehead with a deadly blow. It took a perfect shot to bring the giant down, because the Bible says he wore a full suit of armor and a bronze helmet.

Even more impressive is Judges 20:16, which tells about "seven hundred chosen men who were left-handed, each of whom could sling a stone at a hair and not miss." Some Bible students consider this an intentional exaggeration meant to highlight the soldiers' skill—just as we might say LaBron James is such a good basketball player he never misses a shot. Personally, I believe these 700 left-handed warriors were every bit as skillful as the Bible says, but I still have a lot of questions about this strange verse.

Are left-handers better with slingshots than right-handers? (A tantalizing thought since I'm a lefty myself.) From what distance were they firing stones at hairs? (A hair would be invisible from a few yards away.) Did these men have nothing better to do than shoot rocks at hairs all day? And who were the poor souls who held the hairs on the practice range while novice slingers honed their skills? Were the hair-holders covered with bruises from off-target stones?

Why does the Bible say these 700 experts were "chosen men"? If one soldier lost his touch, was another waiting in the wings to take his place? Did left-handed young boys aspire to be part of the elite 700 club? Is that how David became so proficient with a sling—by following tips passed down from the time of the Judges? Yes, I have some questions about those ancient slingers in Judges 20:16.

And I have even more questions about prayer. Sometimes I wish I could pray the way those men hurled rocks. Never miss. Hit even the smallest target every time. Get whatever I pray for with a swift flick of the wrist. But prayer almost never works that way for me. Even though I've talked to God for years, sometimes my prayers still seem weak, misdirected, off-target. I've encountered a few self-assured Christians who talk as if their prayers always hit the mark, but in candid moments even they admit to some struggles with the mysteries of prayer.

The majority of us are amateurs in the art of conversation with God; and that's not all bad, because prayer should be a life-long ambition. We never graduate from the school of prayer. The goal of prayer isn't to get what we want, but to become and to do what God wants. Prayer is more than a skill; it's a relationship—a way of life that matures over time. We could learn a lesson from Enoch in Genesis chapter 5: it's good to simply walk with God until he takes us home.

Those 700 left-handed men didn't become proficient with their slings overnight. I doubt they suddenly woke up one morning and discovered a miraculous gift that enabled them to hit the mark again and again.

But they did have a secret weapon. They practiced—a lot. And so it must be with prayer. After all, to walk and talk with God is a privilege no one should miss.