As an adolescent male, it’s not often that I examine the contents of my prayers. Each evening before I go to bed, I attempt to give some sort of thanks to God for affording me the life that I am so privileged to live.

However, usually my mind drifts off to my friend’s witty facebook status or the math test I have the next afternoon before I finally wrap up my thoughts, cross myself, and close my eyes for bed.
But recently, I’ve had trouble sleeping. Sept. 5 marked one month since a landslide resulted in the collapse of a tunnel in the San Esteban gold and copper mine in Copiapo, Chile, trapping 33 miners 2,300 feet below the ground.
Although recently installed tubes 3.2 inches in diameter allow the men to receive food, water, and other necessities and communicate with the world above via notes and video messages, the hope of a speedy deliverance is lacking, as many estimate it could be four months before the miners are freed.
The rescue effort hinges upon engineers’ ability to construct a 24-inch wide rescue shaft which each miner must crawl through to reach freedom nearly half a mile above.
The task of keeping the miners physically fit enough to journey up the shaft and mentally strong enough to endure four months of confinement in a dark, muggy space no larger than a small apartment has been assigned to a special task force of psychologists and nutritionists.

The team has been hard at work assembling meal plans and writing up questionnaires administered to the miners to gauge their mental health. Activities are generated for the miners to do to keep their minds sharp, and the miners and the task force communicate on a daily basis.
Just trying to imagine what these 33 miners must be going through is difficult and has kept me up at night. Yet, when I finally mustered up the courage to picture such a horrific scenario, the first thing I thought to do was pray. It then occurred to me that there’s not much more for these men to hang on to than faith, not just faith in the task force and engineers designed to help them survive, but faith in the God who created them, who for reasons unknown has subjected them to this experience and who is watching over them now.

This idea was further accentuated when I learned that many of the miners are now requesting religious figurines, while the man who has emerged as the spiritual leader in the group is busy at work making a shrine.
What struck me next was that the act of prayer, for me a habitual pre-bed, disorganized routine, is the engine driving the survival instincts within these 33 miners. If these men can maintain such a strong faith in God, then why shouldn’t I? If these men are so certain of the force of prayer, what’s stopping me from believing in it too?
These questions have brought me to the realization that I alone can affirm that my prayers have power, meaning, and significance. And given the choice by my forefathers to pray to whom I please and for whom I wish, I have pledged to pray for these miners, who, if for no other reason, deserve our prayers for being brave enough to believe.
We as a society can learn something from these men. In a period of war and recession, we are wrong to disregard faith, which I derive from my belief in God but which others may find in different places.  We instead turn solely to stimulus plans and bailouts for the solutions to our woes.

We need to restore our resolve to trust in each other, to trust in our capacity to survive and excel, to trust in our faith.
As for the miners, they surely will be shaken if and when they emerge from their pit of despair as fall turns into winter. After the joyous greetings from loved ones, psychological questions of reintegrating into society and financial questions of rediscovering a source of income will await them and must be answered. Physical wounds and mental abrasions will underscore their struggles. I can only hope all of our prayers will somehow soothe their many pains.