The Patriots, he stressed, “came out and they played well and they executed well and you’ve got to give them a lot of credit.”

Then Tebow interrupted himself to deal with a higher matter: “But before I talk about that, I just want, you know, to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and thank my teammates for the effort that they put forth, not just tonight but this whole season.”

Please note one crucial detail in this thanksgiving statement.

In a recent Poll Position survey, 43.3 percent of the respondents said they believed divine intervention played some role in Tebow’s roller-coaster season, including that stunning Broncos playoff victory over the Pittsburgh Steelers. Meanwhile, 42.3 percent said God was not helping Tebow out.

This schism is one reason Tebow critics enjoyed asking some obvious questions after the Patriots loss: So what happened? Did God tune out all of Tebow’s prayers?

People can laugh all they want, noted the leader of a Denver-area megachurch that has long had its share of Bronco players in the pews. The key is that Tebow — as is the norm for athletes who are believers — always offers prayers of thanksgiving after losses, as well as victories.

“If people have been listening to anything that Tim Tebow has been saying, then they know that he never prays to win. He has said that publicly many times,” said the Rev. Brad Strait, senior pastor of Cherry Creek Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Englewood.

“The key is that many people who keep commenting on this situation don’t know very much about why believers pray. It seems that they think the main reason, or even the only reason, that people pray is to ask God to give them things. … It’s that old Santa Claus equals Jesus thing. You mix all of that up with football and this is what you get.”

In this case, what you get is controversy about a hunky missionary kid who continues to confound his critics on and off the playing field. Meanwhile, choirs of Tebow fans — saith an early January ESPN poll — have made him the America’s most popular athlete.

His life began, of course, in a dangerous pregnancy and his mother’s decision to reject doctors’ advice to abort provided the hook for a Super Bowl spot in 2010. Tebow’s drive to excel in high-school football — while being home-schooled — fueled headlines long before his two national championships and Heisman Trophy win as a Florida Gator. Then there was the 2009 press conference in which he cheerfully answered a question about his sex life, pledging to remain chaste until marriage. This put Tebow on the radar of every comic with a microphone.

This recent blast by liberal talk-radio star Mike Malloy hit all the crucial notes.

“Tim Tebow, of course, is a massive irritation,” he said. “God, I hate crappy-ass displays of public religiosity, especially, especially, in a sporting event. This to me is vile, just vile, for these fundamentalist Christians to find divine intervention — in a pass for a football game, in Denver, Colorado? Oh well, it’s their religion, not mine.”

On the other hand, there is plenty of evidence that Tebow doesn’t believe God is pulling strings for him, said philosopher Douglas Groothuis of Denver Seminary, where the student body includes Tebow’s brother, Peter.

The fact that Tebow gives thanks after a game doesn’t imply that he prayed for victory before the kickoff, said Groothuis.

“He always says that he is giving thanks to ‘my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ,’ which says, to me, that he is thanking God for his salvation. Then again, he could be thanking God that he is a professional football player and that he has a national platform. He could be thanking God that he didn’t get hurt during the game,” he said.

“If you look at this logically, it doesn’t make sense for him to thank God after a loss if he has been doing what people seem to think he has been doing — which is praying to win. … There’s one other point that’s important. Tebow isn’t cursing God after he loses, that’s for sure.”

She was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2001 and, with other nuns in France and Africa, immediately began prayed for healing. However, her symptoms worsened after the death of Pope John Paul II in April of 2005. That was when Simon-Pierre and her supporters began seeking the help of the pope, who suffered from the same disease in his final years.

Simon-Pierre awoke on the morning of June 3, 2005, with her hands steady and no other signs of the incurable neurological disease.

“It is the work of God, through the intercession of Pope John Paul II,” she told reporters in 2007. “I came across a sister who had helped me tremendously and I told her, … ‘look, my hand is no longer trembling.’ John Paul II cured me.”

Last week, Pope Benedict XVI signed a decree confirming that this “scientifically inexplicable” change in her health can be attributed to the intercessions of John Paul II, meaning that his predecessor can be called “blessed” and, thus, has moved closer to recognition as a saint.

While scientists debate what did or did not happen, journalists have struggled to clearly describe an event that is rooted in an ancient and modern mystery. Simply stated, what does it mean to say believers can ask saints to pray on their behalf during the trials of daily life or in times of crisis?

Father Arne Panula has faced this kind of question many times, especially as director of the Catholic Information Center a few blocks from the White House.

In press reports, this mystery is reduced to an equation that looks like this — needy people pray to their chosen saints and then miracles happen. It’s that simple. The problem, stressed Panula, is that this is an inadequate description of what Catholics, Eastern Orthodox Christians and some other Christians believe.

“What must be stressed is that we pray for a saint to intercede for us with God. Actually, it’s more accurate to say that we ask the saint to pray ‘with’ us, rather than to say that we pray ‘to’ a saint,” he said.

“You see, all grace comes from the Trinity, from the Godhead. These kinds of supernatural interventions always come from God. The saint plays a role, but God performs the miracle. That may sound like a trivial distinction to some people, but it is not.”

When describing this process to non-Catholics, especially to Protestants who are critical of the church, the priest offers a metaphor from — believe it or not — local government.

There is this citizen, he explained, who has a problem. His sidewalk is so messed up that it has become dangerous. This citizen can, of course, call city hall and seek help. It would also be appropriate to directly call the mayor. However, this particular citizen also has a good friend, or perhaps it is even a loved one, who works in the mayor’s office. Why not ask for this close friend to intercede, as well?

“That is what intercessory prayer is about,” said Panula.

The problem is that some people, Catholics included, tend to omit a key element when describing this mysterious process. They spend so much time talking about the intercessory role of the saints that they forget to mention the reality that unites Catholics and other believers — their belief that it is God who, in the end, hears prayers and performs miracles.

The key is the word “intercessor,” which is often used, but rarely explained, in reports about John Paul II, Mother Teresa and others who are being considered as possible saints. An “intercessor” is a mediator who works with others, helping them find favor with a higher authority who has the power. The bottom line is that it isn’t the intercessor who acts on their behalf.

Leaving God out of this picture, said Panula, “has become part of our culture, today. It’s one thing for journalists, to describe the process that leads to the beatification of John Paul II. They may not mind that. But it’s something else to write that there is a God who loves us, who is concerned about our welfare and who hears our prayers and those of his saints.”

While her marriage to British writer Roald Dahl, the author of children’s classics such as “James and Giant Peach,” had long been troubled, Neal was shattered when she learned he was having an affair with one of her friends. They divorced in1983.

In her 1988 memoir, “As I Am,” Neal admitted: “Frequently my life has been likened to a Greek tragedy, and the actress in me cannot deny that comparison.”

That quotation captured the tone of the tributes published after Neal passed away on Aug. 8 at the age of 84. Broadway theaters dimmed their lights in honor of the Tony Award winner and critics sang the praises of one of Hollywood’s ultimate survivors, an actress who literally learned to walk and talk again before returning to the screen to earn another Oscar nomination.

But Neal’s story contained angels as well as demons. This is obvious in the overlooked passages in “As I Am” that described her conversion to Catholicism and her visits to the cloister of Regina Laudis (Queen of Praise) Abbey in Bethlehem, Conn., where the sisters helped her confess her sorrows and rage.

Finally, the abbess suggested that Neal move into the abbey for a month.

“Lady Abbess,” said Neal, “I don’t want to join up, you understand?”

The abbess sighed and said, “Believe me, we don’t want you to, either. I don’t think we could take it for more than a month.”

As she arrived, Neal stubbed out the “last cigarette I would ever smoke.”

A priest gave her a blessing and, she recalled, “I felt his cross blaze into my forehead. … I traded my street clothes for the black dress of the postulant and scrubbed off my makeup. I removed the rings from my fingers and covered my hair with a black scarf. I looked at the bare wooden walls of my cell. … I did not live the exact life of a postulant, but I did my best.”

Neal went to church on time, followed the abbey’s prayer regime, baked bread, remained silent during meals and, with the help of a spiritual director, began writing the journal that evolved into “As I Am.”

Behind closed doors, she unleashed her fury. At one point she screamed so many curses at her counselor that the sister finally cursed right back, urging Neal to be honest about her own faults and mistakes.

The actress finally voiced her secret pain. Monsignor Jim Lisante of Diocese of Rockville Centre (New York) later discussed with Neal the tragedies of her life and asked if there was any one event that she would change.

“She said, ‘Forty years ago I became involved with the actor Gary Cooper, and by him I became pregnant. As he was a married man and I was young in Hollywood and not wanting to ruin my career, we chose to have the baby aborted,’ ” wrote Lisante, at the Creative Minority Report website. “She said, ‘Father, alone in the night for over 40 years, I have cried for my child. And if there is one thing I wish I had the courage to do over in my life, I wish I had the courage to have that baby.’ “

Several of the obituaries for Neal — including the New York Times feature — mentioned this episode in the context of her pain and regret. The Washington Post noted that late in life “she suffered periods of depression and suicidal thoughts before finding peace as a Catholic convert.”

In the end, Neal decided that, “God was using my life far beyond any merit of my own making” allowing her to reach out to those who were suffering. “I learned that my damaged brain cannot reclaim what is dead. It has to create totally new pathways that allowed me to make choices I would never have made had I not suffered that stroke — choices that an infallible voice assures me will be blessed.”

One final lesson from the abbess, wrote Neal, stood out: “There is a way to love that remains after everything else is taken from us.”

The sobering final phrases of the Hail Mary prayer have recently taken on a unique relevancy: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

A month ago, the conservative Catholic writer challenged readers of the American Papist website to join him in praying one Hail Mary a day on behalf of the iconoclastic atheist Christopher Hitchens, who has been stricken with esophageal cancer, a disease which leaves few survivors.

“I am going to begin praying … for the salvation of his eternal soul,” wrote Peters, “that God will be with him ‘at the hour of his death,’ that God will help his unbelief in this life, and that those he has led away from God will come back to His infinite love and mercy. I am in no way praying for him to die, I am praying for him to live eternally.”

Peters is not alone and Hitchens knows it. While some believers hope that he suffers and dies, post haste, the author of “God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything” told CNN that he has been surprised that others — who are “much more numerous, I must say, and nicer” — are praying for his healing, both body and soul.

This has been one of the strangest side effects of Hitchens’ journey across the “stark frontier that marks off the land of malady.” This is a zone in which almost everyone is politely encouraging, the jokes are feeble, sex talk is nonexistent and the “cuisine is the worst of any destination I have ever visited,” wrote Hitchens, in a blunt Vanity Fair essay. The native tongue in “Tumorville” is built around terms such as “metastasized,” phases such as “tissue is the issue” and quotes from the writings of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.

Most of the inhabitants also do quite a bit of praying — for themselves, for their loved ones and even for suffering people they have never met.

Hitchens told evangelical broadcaster Hugh Hewitt that he remains convinced these prayers “don’t do any good, but they don’t necessarily do any harm. It’s touching to be thought of in that way.”

The bottom line, explained Peters, is that his faith asks him to “pray for everyone, even those who hate us. … Hitch just happens to be a famous public enemy of the faith, so more people know what is happening in this life, so more people are talking about why it’s good to pray for him.”

While it is “absolutely horrible” that anyone would pray for Hitchens to suffer and die, he added, many believers may find it hard to do more than pray for “God’s will to be done.” That is the “safe prayer” that is always appropriate.

Meanwhile, a quick Internet scan reveals that some believers are, predictably enough, praying for Hitchens to be converted to Christianity for the sake of his own soul. Others are specifically praying that the scribe who — with Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett and Richard Dawkins — is called one of the “four horsemen” of the New Atheism will not only convert, but also become an apologist for faith. That happened decades ago with an atheist named C.S. Lewis, after all.

“Ultimately, I simply will pray that Hitch has a good and holy death,” said Peters. “I really do not care if he has a public conversion. I care that he, somehow, has a private conversion and that he will be reconciled to God.”

As much as believers love these kinds of “foxhole conversion” stories, Hitchens is convinced he will not surrender. However, should rumors spread that he has “hedged his bets,” the writer has made several public statements warning his admirers that if such cry to the Almighty were to take place, they should ignore it.

“If that comes it will be when I’m very ill, when I am half demented, either by drugs or by pain and I won’t have control over what I say,” he told CNN. “I can’t say that the entity that by then would be me wouldn’t do such a pathetic thing. But I can tell you that — not while I am lucid. No, I could be quite sure of that.”

Month after month, Towns faced two house payments — a real family crisis. Thus, the veteran Bible professor decided to try something that he considered a radical, “Old Testament thing.” In addition to praying that someone would buy the house back in Chicago, Towns and his wife Ruth began fasting on the day that mortgage was due.

Not much happened, but they kept praying and fasting.

After a year, the house sold and Towns has been pondering this question ever since: What role did their fasting play in solving this personal problem?

“What I have learned is that there is much more to fasting than trying to get something from God, because we cannot say what God will do,” said Towns, the author of 100-plus books and dean of the School of Religion at Liberty.

“You are really fasting because you want a closer relationship to God. … There are fasts where you are seeking an end result — like the deliverance of a person from addiction. But that is not the norm. That’s not the main reason God wants us to fast.”

These kinds of mysteries have driven Towns to do something that may sound strange for an evangelical Protestant. He has written three books about fasting, including the recent “The Beginner’s Guide to Fasting,” and has already finished a fourth book on this topic.

Fasting, of course, is a familiar practice for Jews, who observe a strict fast on Yom Kippur (“Day of Atonement”). Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset during the month of Ramadan and believers in many other religions also practice forms of fasting.

Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox Christians fast several times during the church year, especially in the pre-Easter season of Lent — which began this past week. Some modern Catholics continue to fast from meat during Lent, while the Orthodox strive not to eat meat or dairy products.

This practice — eliminating specific forms of food from the diet — is one of several different forms of fasting found in the Bible and in religious history, noted Towns. In the Book of Daniel, the prophet and his friends only ate vegetables and water for 10 days. The leader of the Methodist renewal movement, John Wesley, often fasted for 10 days before major conferences, eating only whole-grain breads and drinking water.

Another common practice, which Towns considers a “normal” fast, is to eat nothing, while continuing to drink liquids. The Gospel of Luke observes that during a 40-day fast Jesus “ate nothing and afterward, when he had ended, he was hungry.”

An “absolute” fast, said Towns, eliminates both solid food and liquids, as in St. Paul’s three-day fast after his conversion on the Damascus road. This strict form of fasting is not for beginners and never should exceed three days, he said. On Mount Sinai, Moses is said to have survived a 40-day fast without food or drink — which would clearly be miraculous.

Believers who are new to fasting should seek guidance from experienced clergy and even from doctors, stressed Towns. The bottom line: It isn’t physically or spiritually wise to “put God to the test by rushing off and doing something irrational,” he said.

In the past decade or so, interest in spiritual disciplines such as fasting is on the rise among many Protestants, including evangelicals and those in Pentecostal or “charismatic” movements, said Towns. This is interesting because, at the same time, many Americans seem anxious not to be labeled as religious “fanatics,” “nuts” or “extremists.”

Yet many Americans seem open to new forms of religious experience.

“I think that there’s a growing interest in spirituality among all kinds of people — people inside the church and people outside the church, as well,” said Towns. “Some people are willing to try all kinds of things right now, including some things that I think are very dangerous.

“People may hear about fasting and say, ‘That sounds interesting. That sounds powerful. I think I’ll give that a try.’ … The issue is whether they have the commitment to stick to it. I’m concerned that most people aren’t willing to pay a price to experience the presence of God.”

That’s true in the current debates about health care, poverty and even gay marriage, he said, at the recent National Prayer Breakfast.

“Surely we can agree to find common ground when possible, parting ways when necessary,” said Obama. “But in doing so, let us be guided by our faith and by prayer. For while prayer can buck us up when we are down, keep us calm in a storm, while prayer can stiffen our spines to surmount an obstacle — and I assure you I’m praying a lot these days — prayer can also do something else. It can touch our hearts with humility. …

“Through faith, but not through faith alone, we can unite people to serve the common good.”

But while the president preached unity, this year’s National Prayer Breakfast was surrounded by controversy. There were signs this event on the semi-official Washington, D.C., calendar may no longer be able to serve as a safe forum in which a wide variety of religious and political leaders can unite their voices. The breakfasts began in 1953 and every president since Dwight Eisenhower has taken part.

Before the event, the leaders of the watchdog group Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington sent a letter to the White House and to Congressional leaders calling for a boycott. They also urged C-Span not to televise the breakfast. Meanwhile, a coalition of gay-rights activists and religious liberals announced a series of alternative “American Prayer Hour” events in Washington and other cities nationwide.

Both groups focused intense criticism on The Fellowship, the nondenominational Christian organization that sponsors the prayer breakfast and similar networking events in Washington and around the world. The key is that numerous Ugandan leaders are active in Fellowship activities in that country, including the politician who introduced anti-gay legislation that includes capital punishment for some offenses.

The ethics group’s letter accused this organization — often called “The Family” — of being a “cult-like secret society with unknown motivations and backing” that preaches an “unconventional brand of Christianity focusing on meeting Jesus ‘man-to-man.’ ” The American Prayer Hour coalition simply called it a “secretive fundamentalist organization.” The New York Times noted that the group has no “identifiable Internet site, no office number and no official spokesman.”

However, some religious conservatives have also expressed doubts about The Fellowship. In an investigation of its property holdings in and around Washington, World magazine called attention to The Fellowship’s “muddy theology,” its “distain for the established church” and an emphasis on privacy that “grew into an obsessive culture of secrecy.”

Describing the participants in Fellowship events, Republican Sen. James Inhofe of Oklahoma told World: “Some of them are Muslims. Some of them are Christians. But they meet in the spirit of Jesus, so it’s not a denominational thing, it’s not even a Christian thing, it’s a Jesus thing.”

The ultimate issue is that this organization needs to admit that it exists and talk openly about its activities and goals, said journalist Jeff Sharlet, author of “The Family: The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power.” It’s a sign of progress, for example, that many Americans who are active in the organization have rejected the Ugandan legislation and communicated their dismay to their contacts in Uganda.

When it comes to the National Prayer Breakfast, the Fellowship’s leaders “should go completely public,” said Sharlet, by email. They should “acknowledge their existence, the fact that this is their event, make their account of it accountable (it was not Ike’s idea), explain the process by which people are invited and … make explicit that this is about consecrating leadership to Jesus. Everybody is welcome, but it’s about Jesus.”

This kind of transparency might accelerate what already seems to be happening. Some leaders — on the left and right — might reject the big-tent approach offered by the National Prayer Breakfast and create their own events, which could focus on more explicit messages about faith and politics.

If the Fellowship’s leaders are truly “serious about what they’re about,” noted Sharlet, this “would be great by their lights. They would lose a lot of clout, but the prayer breakfast movement would at last become an actual movement, of many strands.”

“For many people, connecting ‘Baptist’ and ‘spirituality’ is like ‘military’ and ‘intelligence.’ They just can’t picture those two words together,” said Whitney, director of the new Center for Biblical Spirituality at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky.

But for Baptists, he stressed, it’s crucial to underline the word “biblical” in front “spirituality,” in order to stress the center’s ties to Protestant reformers who rejected what they believed were the errors of Rome.

When Whitney and his colleagues talk about spirituality, they emphasize images of the great Charles Spurgeon spending hours in Bible study before preaching, laypeople meditating on the symbolism in John Bunyan’s “The Pilgrim’s Progress” and missionaries weeping while praying for the lost. They do not focus on monks chanting ancient prayers day after day, night after night, generation after generation.

“Why should we go to people who have locked themselves behind a door for 50 years if we want to learn about true spirituality, when the Bible tells us to go out and be salt and light in the world? … This is not to say that we shouldn’t go outside our tradition in order to learn, but we are saying that it’s important to go to our own guys, first,” said Whitney.

“We believe that biblical, Evangelical spirituality has not been tried and found wanting. It simply has not been tried.”

The potential impact of this project is great, if only because 20 percent of all students attending U.S. seminaries study on Southern Baptist campuses. The center opened in January and seminary leaders believe they can handle five students in the Ph.D. program and 10 in their doctor of ministry program. While graduate programs teaching spirituality exist in a few U.S. seminaries, this Ph.D. program is the first targeting scholars and clergy among evangelicals.

One of the first challenges the center will face is defining “spirituality,” a word that means one thing on the Oprah Winfrey Show and something else altogether then it appears in textbooks describing traditions in various world religions. For modern Americans, the word is so vague that it’s almost meaningless, said church historian Michael Haykin, who teaches in the Southern Seminary programs.

Nevertheless, the word has great power and its appeal must be understood by anyone who wants to understand contemporary American religion.

When most Americans hear “spirituality,” said Haykin, they think of “all of those areas in their internal experiences in which they come into contact with things that transcend daily life. … It’s all incredibly nebulous. The key is that the whole ritual of institutionalized, formal religion has nothing to do with this, for most people today.”

Thus, researchers keep running into increasing numbers of un-churched adults who identify themselves as “spiritual,” but not “religious.” These seekers are interested in “spirituality” that is connected to emotions and personal experiences, but not in formal “religion” that comes packaged with history, doctrines and rules.

Meanwhile, many Protestant believers are anxious to escape what they believe is the dry, formal, merely rational approach to worship and prayer that dominates mainstream churches. Some turn to charismatic or Pentecostal churches and some turn to the so-called “emerging churches” that try to weave some ancient Christian prayers and disciplines into their progressive, “postmodern” take on faith.

“What unites all these people is an emphasis on personal experience,” said Haykin. “For all of them, ‘religion’ is a bad word, something they are trying to get away from.”

The Southern Seminary programs, he added, will emphasize that Protestant pioneers such as John Calvin and Martin Luther were interested in early Christian spirituality, but rejected what they believed were newer Catholic traditions. Then again, students will also study the works of latter reformers, such as the Puritans, who stressed personal piety while criticizing what they saw as the formalized, ritualized traditions of the Presbyterians, Lutherans and others.

This cycle keeps repeating itself, generation after generation.

“We already have people accusing us of trying to smuggle a kind of Roman Catholic approach to faith into an evangelical seminary,” said Haykin. “What we are saying is that the Protestant reformers were trying to get past the whole medieval Catholic world and reconnect with the ancient church and its approach to the spiritual life. That’s what we are trying to do, too.”

As any evangelical worth his or her salt knows, that question sounds like this: “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?” Super aggressive believers prefer: “Are you saved? If you died tonight, would go to heaven or hell?”

Carter remembers replying: “I’m, yeah, actually I have.”

What happened next was strange. The young man was “visibly disappointed” and “wore a look of minor defeat” because he wouldn’t get to save a soul during this lunch period. He ate quickly and departed and, this is the crucial detail for Carter, they never spoke again.

The evangelist wasn’t looking for a friend or dialogue with a believer. He wanted to carve another notch on his Bible, using techniques learned during a soul-saving workshop. If his blunt approach offended strangers, or even strengthened their “Fundie-alert systems,” that was their problem, not his.

Every decade or so there are new, improved techniques for making these spiritual sales pitches, each backed with snappy catch phrases and, these days, with hot websites, books and videos. Then everything changes again a generation later, noted Carter. What you get are stacks of leftover “Left Behind” video games, “What Would Jesus Do?” bracelets, “emerging church” study guides and copies of “The Prayer of Jabez.”

It helps to know that Carter is himself an evangelical who is concerned about evangelism issues. As a journalist, the 39-year-old former U.S. Marine has worked for a number of conservative causes, including World Magazine, the Family Research Center and the presidential campaign of Mike Huckabee. He recently finished helping build Culture11.com, a right-of-center forum for evangelicals, Catholics and mainline Protestants interested in discussing how religion, culture and politics mix in daily life.

That website’s future is uncertain, but before his recent departure Carter nailed a manifesto to that cyber-door — dissecting 10 fads that he believes are hurting evangelical organizations and churches. While most conservatives have been arguing about their political future, in the Barack Obama era, Carter decided to focus on faith issues.

It’s a list that will be puzzling to outsiders not fluent in evangelical lingo. The “Sinner’s Prayer, which reduces the quest for salvation to a short “magical incantation,” made the list, as did the emphasis on “premillennial dispensationalism” and other apocalyptic teachings in some churches.

Carter is also tired of long, improvised public prayers in which every other phrase contains the word “just,” as in, “We just want to thank you Lord.” He would like to hear more sermons focusing on the life of Jesus, as opposed to preachers and evangelists focusing on their own dramatic life “testimonies.” And while he is in favor of growing churches, Carter is worried that the “church growth movement” has evolved from a fad into a permanent fixture on the American scene.

“What most people call the church-growth movement is something that grew out of business principles, instead of growing — organically — out of the life of the church,” he said. “People started trying to figure out how they could change the church so they could get more people to come inside, rather than doing what the early church did, which was going outside the church and reaching people by actually getting to know them. …

“It’s like people started saying, ‘What kind of music do we need to play so that more people will join? What do we need to do to the preaching? What kind media can we add to the services?’ “

But the thread that runs through this online manifesto is that Carter is convinced that evangelicals need to spend less time striving to make quick conversions and more time training disciples who stay the course.

In the end, he said, techniques will not carry over from one generation to another.

“Part of the problem is that evangelicals really don’t have traditions,” said Carter. “Instead, we have these fads that are built on the strengths and talents of individual leaders. … But a real tradition can be handed on to anyone, from generation to generation. It’s hard to hand these evangelical fads down like that, so it seems like we’re always starting over. It’s hard to build something that really lasts.”

“May this be the beginning of a new dawn for America as we humble ourselves before you and acknowledge you alone as our Lord, our Savior and our Redeemer,” said Graham, the fiery son of evangelist Billy Graham. “We pray this in the name of the Father, and of the Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Four years later, the word showed up again.

“Now, unto You, O God, the One who always has been and always will be, the one King of kings and the true power broker, we glorify and honor You,” said the Rev. Kirbyjon Caldwell of Windsor Village United Methodist Church in Houston. “Respecting persons of all faiths, I humbly submit this prayer in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Scholars who keep watch over the rites of American civil religion took note of the firestorms caused by these prayers. Clearly, it was becoming dangerous to use the J-word — the name of Jesus — in the public square.

But it’s old hat for Republicans to use explicit God-talk. This year, Sen. Barack Obama and his team went out of the way to invite progressive and even mainstream Evangelicals to the Democratic National Convention — including taking a turn at the podium. This was cutting-edge prayer in an age of theological tolerance.

One lesser-known voice backed out at the last moment — Cameron Strang, the 32-year-old editor of Relevant Magazine and son of publishing magnate Steven Strang of Charisma magazine. Nevertheless, Strang the younger was willing to arrange for a rising star to take his place — Donald Miller, author of the spiritual memoir “Blue Like Jazz.”

Miller ended his prayer with a call for unity within diversity, but also found a way to say “Jesus” without causing trouble.

“God we know that you are good. Thank you for blessing us in so many ways as Americans,” said Miller. “I make these requests in the name of your son, Jesus, who gave his own life against the forces of injustice. … Amen.”

The key was that Miller stressed the word “I,” making sure that his listeners knew he was claiming this was his own prayer — not asking them to share his embrace of the second person of the Christian Trinity.

Still, when it comes to church-state strategy, the most groundbreaking prayer was offered by the Rev. Joel Hunter of the giant Northland Church near Orlando — especially since his benediction ended the mile-high rally that included Obama’s acceptance speech.

A self-identified “pro-life Republican,” the preacher offered a conventional prayer that included appeals on behalf of infants, children, the poor, the persecuted and those who are enslaved, as well as for peace and for the environment. Then, at the end, Hunter paused to interject a unique “closing instruction.”

“I want to personalize this,” he said. “I want this to be a participatory prayer. And so therefore, because we are in a country that is still welcoming all faiths, I would like all of us to close this prayer in the way your faith tradition would close your prayer. So on the count of three, I want all of you to end this prayer, your prayer, the way you usually end prayer. You ready? One, two, three.”

Hunter, on his own behalf, spoke into the microphone: “In Jesus’ name, Amen.” Meanwhile, 80,000 or so other people were free to name their own God or gods.

After fielding questions about his actions, the pastor stressed that it would be “taking the Lord’s name in vain” if he created confusion in such a setting. The goal was ensure that participants did not believe they were being asked to accept a prayer that forced them to “compromise their core beliefs.”

Thus, “I did not ask people to pray to another god; I asked them to finish a prayer according to their faith tradition,” argued Hunter, on his church’s website. “This may be a small point linguistically, but it is a huge point theologically. …

“As you may imagine, I prayed long and hard before feeling like God had given me the precise words for this prayer. I believe that He in His sovereign way will use it to bring people to Himself.”

You wrestle with metal shutters. You fill bathtubs and rows of plastic bottles with water and make extra ice. You check radios, flashlights and battery expiration dates.

Floridians in Frances evacuation zones faced the sobering act of preparing a box or two of irreplaceable papers, pictures and memories. I saved stacks of class outlines and left textbooks. I saved icons from Greece and left diplomas from Texas. I saved my guitar and an oil painting of the great lion Aslan from the Chronicles of Narnia. Some things are easier to replace than others.

Then you are supposed to pray.

Even our civic officials and television anchors hinted at this. But for what, precisely, should we pray? This is a puzzle for learned theologians, as well as parents guiding children in bedtime prayers next to a hurricane lamp.

Should believers pull a Pat Robertson and try to steer the storm toward some other target more worthy of God’s wrath? Is it realistic to pray that every storm will veer into the open Atlantic? Many simply pray for God’s will to be done — period.

Deep questions loom overhead: Does God “cause,” “control” or merely “allow” hurricanes? Are they part of a fallen creation touched by sin, yet events that God can use? All of the above?

“I don’t think you can hold that God never sends the storm — the witness of scripture seems to forbid that,” said Father Joseph Wilson of St. Luke’s Catholic Church in Whitestone, N.Y., one of several experts I reached by email during the storm.

“The Fall had consequences and scripture hints at them. These consequences affected man’s relationship with God, his relationship with woman and with nature. … In classical Christian theology it is not necessarily the active will of God, which sends the storm, although it may be. But the permissive will of God is involved, since He is permitting it.”

Roman Catholics have long wrestled with these issues in liturgies, he said. The altar missal includes a rich variety of “Masses for Various Needs,” including prayers about the weather and harvests. The “Procession for Averting Tempest” begins with church bells, a litany of the saints and the following:

“Almighty and ever living God, spare us in our anxiety and take pity on us in our abasement, so that after the lightning in the skies and the force of the storm have calmed, even the very threat of tempest may be an occasion for us to offer You praise. Lord Jesus, Who uttered a word of command to the raging tempest of wind and sea and there came a great calm: hear the prayers of Your family.”

Finally, the priest makes the sign of the cross and sprinkles the surroundings with holy water. At that point, quipped Wilson, “I guess everyone assumes the crash position.”

Specific Protestant rites are harder to come by. But in one Evangelical Lutheran Church in America liturgy, the people pray “Lord, have mercy” after prayers such as: “In the face of mighty winds, thunderous sounds, strong rains, and surging waves, let us pray. … In the face of complete uncertainty, as well as concern for our loved ones, here or elsewhere, let us pray. … In the face of our own vulnerable mortality, let us pray to the Lord.”

Eastern Orthodox tradition includes similar prayers, noted Father Patrick Henry Reardon of Chicago, the author of numerous meditations on the Book of Psalms. Hurricane Frances drew his immediate attention because his son’s family, with five grandchildren, was in its path.

The key is that it is always appropriate to “pray simply for deliverance, for yourself and for others,” he said. “During storms … I am particularly drawn toward Psalms 18 and 29, because both of them describe the experience of a storm, with all the wind, thunder (the ‘Voice of the Lord’), lightning and so forth.”

These timeless and mysterious prayers range from stark fear to exuberant praise. In them, storms are common — a normal challenge of life in biblical lands.

“It is legitimate to ask if a hurricane counts as a storm,” said Reardon. “I don’t know. However, I am disposed to think they will suffice.”