I said Goodbye to the Prayer Room

I am writing this while sitting at one of my favorite coffee shops drinking my David Rio Tiger Spice Chai and eating my two protein balls thinking of how amazing and sad Thursday night was.

I am also listening to the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack, so that may or may not be helping my emotions.

Thursday night, April 11th, was David Forlu’s last set at the International House of Prayer. You may remember that I used to frequent his Thursday night sets religiously. That is until October of last year when all hell was unleashed.

I risked a visit to my favorite Thursday night set in November of last year with a friend. It was really hard to sit in that room. I was always looking over my shoulder. Since that Thursday in November, I haven’t been back. And wasn’t planning to go back. Until April 11th.

David Forlu is an exceptional worship leader, someone I have tremendous respect for. When I heard he was leaving and he had decided when his last set would be, I decided to go.

Luckily I wasn’t alone. Several people from my church decided to go too.

I wanted to go to support David and his team, but also to officially say goodbye to the prayer room. My soul needed some closure. No, the prayer room isn’t closing. But I think that I probably went there for the last time on Thursday.

We got there early so we could get good seats (people’s last sets tend to be full). I sat down and waited for his set to start. Almost the moment that David began to play the piano I was overcome by emotions.

I knew it was gonna be emotional. But it hit me like a freight train at minute one. I could barely sing along through the tears. I didn’t realize how much grief I felt over the prayer room and the subsequent losses.

I grew up at IHOP. I’ve gone to that room my entire life. And it breaks my heart what has happened in the last several months. And it smacked me in the face all at once.

The place my parents had labored in for 15 years—the place I used to sneak my snacks into. The place I used to feel so much ownership over, was no longer the same.

David sang about the love, mercy, and faithfulness of God. I needed that reminder that Jesus has been here with me, with you, this entire time. He knows what He’s doing.

I was sitting with some friends and family when a few kids came over to say hi to the person next to me. They were probably 6 and 8. They were ecstatic to see my friend. I, on the other hand, could barely hold it together.

I remember being that kid in the prayer room. So excited to go say hi to my favorite adult “friends” across the room. At that moment, I realized how much my heart ached. I miss being that kid. I miss how safe that room used to be for me.

Instead, I was in that set crying hard one second and looking over my shoulder the next second to see if anyone needed a throat punch (I do love a good throat punch), or if I was about to be throat punched. So you know, less safe.

As David sang, I tried to hold back the tears and the ache in my heart. But instead of shoving down my endless emotions, I asked my friend for a tissue and I just let it out.

There are beautiful criers out there. I don’t think I am one of them.

I also don’t particularly like crying. It makes me feel so vulnerable and sad. And it messes up my makeup.

But I threw caution to the wind and cried. I cried about how much had been lost. I cried about the seemingly endless sadness in my heart over the prayer room and the loss of what used to be my home. I cried about my friends who were doing their last set. I cried over the fact that it didn’t have to be this way, but here we are.

And I cried over the fact that this was probably my last time in this room. I was saying goodbye to a part of me in that moment.

David’s setlist was perfect. His song choices helped me to once again look to Jesus. So I sang through my ugly tears about the faithfulness of God. I sang about how God has been with me this whole time. I sang about how God is near to the brokenhearted.

The room was full that night. Lots of students, interns, IHOP staff members, and people like me who just loved David’s sets. There were some people I’m not a huge fan of at this current juncture, but we all just mutually pretended we didn’t see each other. Fine with me.

When I finally finished crying, I was able to have fun. David and his team busted out some classics that got the room jumping. I felt joy in the house of the Lord. It felt like an old Onething conference when I was 8 years old having the time of my life. Back when life was simple and easy.

I got to sing and scream with my friends. I got to see my friends absolutely kill it on stage with their insane vocals and drum skills.

While I was standing and clapping I realized how much I missed being in a room with fantastic live music. Feeling the bass in my chest. Listening to beautiful harmonies. Watching guitar players pour out their hearts while they play a guitar solo.

And then it made me sad for a minute. This unbelievable team was doing their last set together. The events of the last several months have caused some of them to leave staff at IHOP. And once again, I’m reminded that it didn’t have to be this way. I have lots of opinions about how it couldn’t gone, but I’ll save those heartwarming thoughts for another day.

Towards the end of the set, an old friend came over to me. We haven’t really talked at all since the news about IHOP became public. My family is on “one side”, her family is on “the other side”.

But she was brave and came over to me, hugged me, and cried. We sat there hugging and crying for a long time. I cried over how much this has cost us all. So many lost friendships. So much heartache. I cried because I missed my friend. Few words were exchanged. We didn’t need to say much. It was healing for me.

In true David Forlu fashion, the set ended with a bang. Me and a few hundred people sang and danced together singing about how good God is. That is the type of atmosphere that David and his team created. An atmosphere of thanksgiving and gratefulness amid tragedy and loss. Well done David.

I left exhausted. My ears hurt from listening to loud music for over 2 hours (I have lost my edge). But I felt closure and thankfulness.

I was thankful for David’s 11 years in the prayer room. I was thankful for his posture of gratitude. I was thankful that I got to say goodbye to my childhood home, the prayer room.

As I reflected on the set the next morning, I didn’t berate myself for all the tears I shed. I instead took a moment to realize the gravity of all that was happening. And it’s effect on me.

It’s okay to cry about all that’s happening. It’s okay to cry about how the prayer room is no longer my home. It’s okay to cry about losing friends.

But as David sang, “Father you have been so kind, all day long”.

Photo by Thanos Pal on Unsplash