By Margaret Tolliver (MAMC, 2012). She serves as the administrative coordinator for board meetings in the president’s office at Dallas Theological Seminary. She also volunteers in her church, ministering in praise/worship dance and teaching children about the gospel, God’s Word, and baptism. Her favorite thing to do is to encourage others to seek the Lord in everything that they do, especially if she can use the creative arts to do so.

During the summer of 2011, I worked full-time at a youth program to save for my next semester at Dallas Theological Seminary. Every day I came home exhausted. I cannot decide whether the exuberant teenagers or the sweltering heat caused my fatigue. Between bouts of “let’s hide from Ms. Margaret” and “go outside with us, Ms. Margaret,” I could not keep up with the mood swings. The only constant that summer was the Dallas heat.

Everyone expected the 1980 record of the most consecutive days exceeding 100 degrees to be broken in August. Up to that point, north Texas had experienced triple digits approaching the biblical number of forty. Many believed this hot season would exceed the record. I hoped it wouldn’t.

Comfort

Why we chose to take our teens to the concrete jungle of Six Flags during the dead heat of summer, I will never know. I dread any summer outdoor activity without shade trees. So, I did like most in my situation—I complained.

Sometimes it takes a while for me to remember not to grumble, but to use those urges to communicate with God. At some point in my desperation, I did turn to the Lord and pleaded for relief. Please don’t let it be too hot when we go to Six Flags . . . PULEEZE.

I must confess, my prayers did not mention any spiritual disciplines. Forget self-control, loving my neighbor, patience. At that moment, I only wanted comfort. I did express some gratitude. Lord, thank you my current residence—where the heat can cause weeping and gnashing of teeth—is a temporary place and not the eternal one.

The day of the dreaded field trip finally arrived. The weather prediction echoed the previous forty days. Agonizing temperatures would continue to contain triple digits. I needed reinforcements—I wanted more saints to pray with me. If we all begged God together, he’d have mercy on us. My prayer requests encountered the usual, “Margaret, deal with it. The weather man said. . . .” “So let’s talk to THE Weather Man,” I responded.

I noticed my pleas weren’t availing much with men. So, I appealed to Scripture. “Look, Elijah prayed it wouldn’t rain. The Bible says we’re like him. Let’s pray about the weather” (Jas 5:16–18).

Another answered, “I’ll pray for God’s will.”

“OK. And I’ll pray specifically that God’s will keeps the temperatures from rising too high. During the hottest part of the day, the sun is like this,” I raised my right fist. “I pray a big, fluffy cloud will spread over it like this!” I raised my left palm and covered my fist. I didn’t care that I looked like the sole participant in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. I had a point to convey. I continued, “I only want one cloud, so you’ll know the power of MY God.”

The motivation of my prayer had changed. I no longer wanted a cooler day as a selfish reprieve from the heat. Instead, I wanted a magnificent display of God’s power. I wanted my coworkers to see that Philippians 4:6 is not hyperbole. Every believer should accept the motto, “Don’t worry; be prayerful!” Discomforts provide opportunities to talk with God. We will experience his peace when he answers.

As we loaded the bus, I left my reluctant “prayer partners” behind to their air-conditioned tasks. Hours later, the chatty teens filled the All American Café at Six Flags. I grabbed my tray and proceeded outside for solitude. As I sat at the table to eat, the sun kissed my face—a sloppy, wet kiss left a small drop of perspiration on my forehead. I glanced at the sky; heaven smiled and winked. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes in delight. I tilted my head further back, beaming with a lopsided grin of gratitude.

On our return, as I corralled the youth to get in straight lines, I noticed Mr. “Margaret, deal with it” approaching my co-teacher. I ear-hustled their exchange:

“How was Six Flags?”

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