In ninth grade, I was a knucklehead. Even worse, I was a Christian school knucklehead. Those are the worst kind...

Six days a week from as early as I could remember, between Bible classes and Sunday school, I was in the same building, often the same classrooms, hearing Bible lessons, often from the same people. I spent my time on basketball and girls (in that order) but didn't have much of a faith I could call my own.

Around Christmas in December of 1990, I met someone who would change my life. Instead of a much-anticipated Christmas party, the boys senior high Bible class was sent out in twos to visit the elderly "shut-ins" of our church. I'm sure the intention was to bring Christmas cheer to folks not physically able to get out anymore, but as you might imagine, the only thing we wanted to do less than schoolwork on the last day of classes before Christmas break was to visit two old people we'd never met.

I was paired with my friend Brian, who shared my disdain for the assignment. But he had an idea: "We'll go visit one person and say we couldn't find the other person's house. That way, we'll be done early and can go to the mall."

That's how I met Ms. Buckner, who lived down a windy, rural Virginia road in a little apartment attached to her grandson's farmhouse. Ms. Buckner, an 89-year-old widow, came to the door and invited us inside. There was, shall we say, a pretty significant generation gap in that room. We didn't know what to talk about, and she didn't really know what to talk about.

Just when we thought it couldn't get more awkward, Ms. Buckner said, "Let's sing Christmas carols together." After we stumbled our way through "Silent Night," she decided one carol was enough.

"Well, Ms. Buckner," Brian said, "we'd best be on our way."

"Yes," I lied, "we still have one more person to visit before heading back to school."

And then she asked, "Well, before you go, let's pray together."

So I prayed, and Brian prayed. That took about 45 seconds. And then, Ms. Buckner prayed. At that point in my life, I'd probably heard thousands of prayers. But there was something about this one. Ms. Buckner spoke to God as if she knew Him, with a confidence and humility that only comes when you're certain that Someone is listening.

We left Ms. Buckner's house and headed to the mall, hoping to meet some girls. But Brian and I agreed that Ms. Buckner was a pretty cool old woman.

Two years later, (and to this day, I have no idea why) I woke up thinking about Ms. Buckner. I was even less interested in spiritual things by then, but I ended up going back down the windy road to her house.

When Ms. Buckner came to the door, I said, "you probably don't remember me, but two years ago I came here with my friend Brian."

"John," she smiled. "I prayed for you this morning."

Ms. Buckner became a close friend. She prayed for me every day for the rest of her life. I have no idea what she has prayed me into or out of.

In so many ways, the gap between generations today is more pronounced than ever. And one way to bridge that gap is prayer. My friend Tony Souder has developed a set of prayer guides that will help Christians bridge that generation gap through prayer, just as Ms. Buckner did for me. According to the Barna Group, millennials who stayed in church were "twice as likely to have a close personal friendship with an adult inside the church." Tony's Pray for Me Campaign is a way to facilitate those relationships between generations through prayer.

The Pray for Me Campaign offers simple, practical guides that equip adult believers to pray for children and students. There are guides aimed to jumpstart intergenerational prayer relationships between parents and their children, grandparents and their grandchildren, and adults and the students in their church. This month, for a gift of any amount to the Colson Center, we will send you the prayer guide of your choice that best fits the relationship needs that you have with the next generation. Just go to breakpoint.org/February