“HOW can we pray for you?” queries the form on Pray For Me. After you type in your worries and press send, it’s forwarded to a network of churches across Australia, members of which will duly mumble in your name. (Begone, cynic – it doesn’t follow up by asking for your credit card details.)
At first I thought this must be a service for non-believers having a bit of a waver – when we were kids my brother would occasionally instruct me to pray for things, being the rogue church-goer of the family as I was – but no, seemingly it’s for Christians who want that extra oomph.
There is no celestial choir when I press send, or even an email receipt, so it’s a slightly anti-climatic experience. All we can do is sit and wait.
This passive aggressive little number was on the feedback page:
I have sent several requests to you in recent month’s so I am not sure what this one was for. But I will let you know: I lost my job (I had asked you to pray for a witch at my office) I didn’t purchase the house that I was planning to buy for my mother as settlement day was the day I lost my job. However, I do believe that no matter how bleak things look, all things work together for good for those who love God. Bless you all
Keeper? Praying for my brother’s soul may feel more rewarding.
Hey man, now you're really living 
You could just have asked Tara’s mother – she loves a good pray.
I have a suggestion, although it’s rather particular and you would probably need to do it alone (depends what you’re into I suppose): go to the public toilet next to 7 Eleven in Smith Street. If it’s celestial choirs you’re after…
It’s a keeper for me, that’s for sure.
Perhaps a tour of public toilets of the vicinity? There’s the one opposite the Grace Darling as well, for starters.