A gastroenterologist prescribes prayer for treatment. “To my surprise, the doctor came in and gave me not only his five minutes but also his five cents worth. And get this, he didn’t even mention my temperamental entrails. Instead, he asked me about my backpack. No, not the literal one I had in college. But rather, the figurative one I’ve been carrying around ever since. In other words, he wanted to know what kind of stuff I’ve been shouldering.

Then he did the really unexpected. He suggested a 365-day-a-year treatment that wouldn’t cost me any more than a few minutes of my time, along with a measure of my will. He wrote me a prescription — for prayer.

By the time I picked my lower jaw up off of the floor, the doctor had gone on to explain how lightening my load, by trusting God with my day-to-day concerns instead of trying to carry them on my own, would take a burden off my body, too.”

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