When I was a much younger Christian, prayer seemed somewhat daunting. It was discussed with hushed, reverent voices- a holy ritual of cleansing and adoration that I never seemed to be able to attain. I followed several promising methods with various acronyms. I bought numerous prayer journals. I set prayer times, established prayer closets, and made lists of answered prayers. Though none of these efforts was completely fruitless, I still felt like the kind of prayer that moved mountains was just beyond my ability to grasp.
Over the years, I learned the kind of prayer I was attempting to do was based on my own attempts to master something that was never meant to be departmentalized and conquered....at least not in the sense I was trying to attain. Instead, as God led me through the challenges to my faith in life, I found my prayers transformed. Instead of my laundry list, my prayers began to be more exclamations of delight in God's revealing his heart to me. I, in turn, revealed more of my heart to Him. He would respond back to me, and somehow, I found that I was engaged in a conversation! It did not follow the scripted methods I'd studied. It was not reserved for a particular time of the day. In fact, my prayers almost seemed very ANTI-religious. I am convinced if the prayer police examined my prayers, I would have been found lacking....yet in my heart of hearts, I know that this type of prayer is exactly what my Lord and Savior would have me to do. Breathe in his words and heart whispers; breathe out my wonder at how He works and moves. I had begun to believe that I had mastered this prayer thing after all.
My experience has been just about the time I think I'm done, God is orchestrating opportunities for me to remember just who I am, and more importantly, who HE is. Well, this was no exception. Several weeks ago, my precious 18 year old daughter made some choices that forced us to allow her to be free to pursue that which she believed was the only path she would follow. This was not an easy decision on our part, and was one wrought with much heartache. What made this time even more difficult was the addition of an individual whom I believed to be an extremely bad influence in my daughter's life. I was angry, hurt, and bewildered about the way things were going. Bitterness had begun to creep into my heart toward this individual whom I vilified as the cause of all the negative things going on. As I sat nursing my resentment, God's unmistakable voice came to me clear and strong, "I want you to pray for him." I was stunned at first. This was definitely not my plan for this young man. I immediately saw the loophole in God's request, though, and cautiously agreed that I would pray for him. In the darkest part of my mind in that room where I hide just how callous I can be, I was exultant! Yes, I would pray. I would pray hail and brimstone down on my enemy just like the Psalmists. Before I had the chance to flap my arms and shake my tail end in a celebratory chicken dance, God stepped into my hidden room. His look spoke first, but His haunting question followed, "Is that the way I deal with you?" The, "No, but...." vanished on my lips. I KNEW what He wanted and it was more than I could bear. I begged God, "Please, don't ask me to do that." I felt like Jonah. It is one thing to pray for your enemies. It is quite another to give up the right to see what you feel is justice done. You see, I KNOW the grace of God. I know how possible it is to take someone so stuck in their own self-righteous opinions that they are an offense to all around them and to transform them into someone who is a blessing and fragrance. I know that grace because it was showered upon me. I just didn't WANT to see THIS person redeemed. I wanted him to suffer and struggle through life. I wanted him to wallow with the pigs and NOT realize he was a prodigal. I wanted to be right when this life my daughter chose fizzled out. I wanted so much, but I did NOT want a miracle. You see, I told you I can be callous and cold.
I stood there wavering between obedience and rebellion. As always, God did not force Himself. He simply offered the option and a glimpse into being a partner in His ultimate plan. I know WITH HIM is always better than WITHOUT HIM, no matter what I can humanly perceive at the moment, so I chose to partner with Him and pray. God upped the ante on me and said, "I want you to pray for him and send a prayer to him daily. Just so we're clear, pray for him like you would pray for your daughter." Gulp. My daughter is sweet, kind, sparkling with personality, smart, charming, and.....well.....a part of me. HOW in the world am I supposed to pray for him like THAT????? The answer drifted through my outrage softly, yet firmly, "Through Me."
I texted my first prayer, which was probably as sterile a prayer as I've ever prayed in my life. I told God once he realized who was sending these texts, he probably wouldn't read them. He might block them entirely. He most likely would mark them as some sort of spam. God told me it didn't matter, to leave that up to Him. This act of prayer wasn't really to see results in this young man anyway. It was to transform my bitter, angry heart and to keep my light from being put under a bushel. Oh, that hurt. All this agony on my part, and God didn't even need my personal sacrifice to make His purposes happen in the life of this young man, my daughter, or anyone in this situation. He did want me to take the spade and dig deep into my own heart and remove the weeds that had grown there. I needed to remove the weeds that said I was better than this young man.....that I had arrived at holiness somehow, so that I had the right to sit in judgement as to whether or not he was beyond God's ability to redeem and restore. Like Peter, I wept bitterly with understanding.
Since I wrote this, you might think that I chose to tell you this story because it has a happy ending. Nope. Every day, I come to this place of obedience and there is a second or two of hesitation. Some days are easier than others. I still find myself confessing my own dark thoughts that persist and seeking God's light, truth, and restoration in my own life as I walk in intercessory prayer. Slowly, I find that my hatred is being replaced by awe at how much God loves this young man to call daily prayers down on his behalf. I don't know how long I will be called to this service. Somehow, I suspect my own response and heart will determine the duration more than any action of the young man or any connection to my daughter. In the meantime, it is my hope that if you are being called to pray for your enemies, you will recall just how God has dealt with you and rejoice in that knowledge. Who knows, you just may see the miracle of repentance. Either way, you will surely be changed. I know I have been.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Waiting
Funny how I reached a place where I honestly believed I had an acceptable measure of patience developed. It wasn't perfect, but then again, whose is? God has a way of taking out the spiritual spade and digging in further. No, my patience is very, very shallow.
When Bruce was laid off from Dallas ISD, I was nervous, but thought I could accept the change as a clear leading into something new. Though I still believe that, the lack of clear direction into that "New and Improved" version of life has revealed that I really haven't let go of the steering wheel just quite yet. As long as the money held out and the plan included a reduced, but somewhat comfortable lifestyle, then I was more than willing to go along for the ride.
Now that we've had to step further and further into the corner with no clear escape path; however, the emotions stir more frequently. I still believe deep in my heart that my Father has plans for us and He knows best. I grieve, though, wondering what it will cost to get there. I realize I do love some things in this life a little more than I should. I've grasped rather than held with an open palm. It is easy to say that we value people and relationship over things until you have to come face to face with the reality of losing what you've worked so hard to obtain. Now, I have begun the grieving and letting go process that is necessary.
My security in a health plan, in a house, in having tools of the trade, in my education, or even a full pantry are all on the line. Will my father be able to care for my health issues without insurance? Yes, of course. It is so much easier, though, to say the words than to step into the first day without coverage. It was so much easier to hope in a future while I was studying than to have a diploma in hand and no opportunities to use it. I can say that I know my degree was in God's timing, but again, when all you see is the wilderness, it is only by remembering God's faithfulness to His people that I can maintain that hope. It both saddens and encourages me. Yes, God will be faithful. He always is. That doesn't mean he will be fast about revealing his plan and purpose. That doesn't mean we will come out on the other side with anything other than his sustaining power. Those are scary thoughts and calming ones all at the same time.
Yes, I am beginning to grieve. My prayer during the process is that my hope remains focused on HIM and not on any of the things that I've enjoyed. I can't say I am looking forward to this stage of the journey, but if it makes me move in closer relationship to my Father, then I am looking forward to walking in step with Him. Once the process is complete, it is my prayer that I maintain a light hold on the things of this earth.
When Bruce was laid off from Dallas ISD, I was nervous, but thought I could accept the change as a clear leading into something new. Though I still believe that, the lack of clear direction into that "New and Improved" version of life has revealed that I really haven't let go of the steering wheel just quite yet. As long as the money held out and the plan included a reduced, but somewhat comfortable lifestyle, then I was more than willing to go along for the ride.
Now that we've had to step further and further into the corner with no clear escape path; however, the emotions stir more frequently. I still believe deep in my heart that my Father has plans for us and He knows best. I grieve, though, wondering what it will cost to get there. I realize I do love some things in this life a little more than I should. I've grasped rather than held with an open palm. It is easy to say that we value people and relationship over things until you have to come face to face with the reality of losing what you've worked so hard to obtain. Now, I have begun the grieving and letting go process that is necessary.
My security in a health plan, in a house, in having tools of the trade, in my education, or even a full pantry are all on the line. Will my father be able to care for my health issues without insurance? Yes, of course. It is so much easier, though, to say the words than to step into the first day without coverage. It was so much easier to hope in a future while I was studying than to have a diploma in hand and no opportunities to use it. I can say that I know my degree was in God's timing, but again, when all you see is the wilderness, it is only by remembering God's faithfulness to His people that I can maintain that hope. It both saddens and encourages me. Yes, God will be faithful. He always is. That doesn't mean he will be fast about revealing his plan and purpose. That doesn't mean we will come out on the other side with anything other than his sustaining power. Those are scary thoughts and calming ones all at the same time.
Yes, I am beginning to grieve. My prayer during the process is that my hope remains focused on HIM and not on any of the things that I've enjoyed. I can't say I am looking forward to this stage of the journey, but if it makes me move in closer relationship to my Father, then I am looking forward to walking in step with Him. Once the process is complete, it is my prayer that I maintain a light hold on the things of this earth.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Trust
I have a trust issue. I suppose it is more accurate to say I have a MIStrust issue. I was introduced to betrayal early in life and felt its sting in the many following years. The sobering truth is that people intentionally and unintentionally fail us in the moments we need them most. Over the years, I've fashioned my painful experiences into a garment of of hypervigilence. My radar is always up, filtering through every word, deed, glance, and message. Exhausting work, to be sure, and one in which I experience limited success in overhauling the mindset which fuels me towards it. Most of the time, life streams by without incident. The filter is set to casual observation. However, occasionally, a change occurs and I find myself once again on high alert. Such an incident happened recently. In the wake of examination, I was struck by how quickly I can go from acceptance to rejection and walls with the flimsiest of evidence to support my altered state. That's the strange thing about trust. It has to be built stone by stone over years, yet can be struck down with a single blow. For people like me, the struggle then becomes whether to pick up the mortar and begin the rebuilding process once again, or leave the crumbled construction to testify how trusting people is an exercise in futility. The truth of the matter is that trusting people truly IS an exercise in futility, but not in the manner in which I often pursue it. People are part of a sin fallen, redemption needing, undeserving world. They will continue to fail me, and it is no big shocker that I will continue to find disappointment to some degree or other if I am looking to find otherwise. However, the glorious revelation from my Father is that He CAN be trusted....infinitely and always. My puny filter picks up malicious and careless injuries, but He knows motives and plans before the idea is even fully formed. All my life experiences come through His hand, even those I question and attempt to cast away from me. Therefore, the real issue is whether or not I believe God when he says in Isaiah 30: 15 The holy Lord God of Israel had told all of you, "I will keep you safe if you turn back to me and calm down. I will make you strong if you quietly trust me." For this moment, for this day, trust Him.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Memorials
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of spending the day with my youngest son. After sharing conversation and laughs, our talk veered onto plans for the upcoming spring break. Several activies had been tossed around, but none solidified. As we discussed some of the options, I blurted out that I wished we had the money to make a trip to D.C. as I'd fallen in love with our nation's capital when I visited a few years ago and longed to share it with my children.
I began gushing about the sites that allowed my patriotic heart to unfurl into the full blossom of American pride. I listed the overwhelming reality of freedom's price at Arlington Cemetery. I mentioned the horror of mankind's cruelty and willingness to sacrifice life at the Holocaust museum. I bespoke of the Vietnam memorial, the World War II memorial, the Lincoln memorial, and finally the pandas at the National zoo. At this tidbit, my son burst into jolly laughter. I turned a curious eye onto him and waited for him to explain. He pointed out the irony that my fondness for the city revolved around "death and war" with the exception of the pandas. I paused and reflected at his words.
It is true. My American heritage was built upon the lives and sacrifice of countless others. Walking through those places that honor patriotism draws one into an identity as an American.
I was struck by the parrallel nature of our lives as Christians. From the outside, it looks as if we dwell on "death" through the suffering and crucifixtion of our Lord. It is submerging ourselves in the reality of His death and sacrifice; however, that allows us to understand our identity as followers of Christ. As we enter into this season that honors the death and resurrection, may we not stop at remembrance. The war for mankind wages around us. May our allegiance with the God of Heaven and Earth call us to fight bravely and with abandonment for the souls around us. May those who follow after us witness your complete surrender.
I began gushing about the sites that allowed my patriotic heart to unfurl into the full blossom of American pride. I listed the overwhelming reality of freedom's price at Arlington Cemetery. I mentioned the horror of mankind's cruelty and willingness to sacrifice life at the Holocaust museum. I bespoke of the Vietnam memorial, the World War II memorial, the Lincoln memorial, and finally the pandas at the National zoo. At this tidbit, my son burst into jolly laughter. I turned a curious eye onto him and waited for him to explain. He pointed out the irony that my fondness for the city revolved around "death and war" with the exception of the pandas. I paused and reflected at his words.
It is true. My American heritage was built upon the lives and sacrifice of countless others. Walking through those places that honor patriotism draws one into an identity as an American.
I was struck by the parrallel nature of our lives as Christians. From the outside, it looks as if we dwell on "death" through the suffering and crucifixtion of our Lord. It is submerging ourselves in the reality of His death and sacrifice; however, that allows us to understand our identity as followers of Christ. As we enter into this season that honors the death and resurrection, may we not stop at remembrance. The war for mankind wages around us. May our allegiance with the God of Heaven and Earth call us to fight bravely and with abandonment for the souls around us. May those who follow after us witness your complete surrender.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Derailed
You know, it is funny how we get all prepared to walk into things and then find ourselves far away from the original destination. I started this blog to motivate myself to tell my story. I've mentally started beginnings over a dozen times. I'm still looking for that nice, neat entrance to a messy, eccentric tale. Just about the time I realized that I would never find that elusive entrance and that I just needed to begin, I was knocked completely flat by the flu.
I am highly stubborn and a tad independent....well, tad might be an understatement. I don't do well in situations where I can't depend on skill, intellect, or sheer bullheadedness to make it through difficulties. The problem with that approach, as you may well know, is that it is entirely contrary to the call upon my life. My Father calls me to rest, to abide in Him, to let go of my right to rights, and to be gentle as doves. I wish desperately that I could once and for all trust His leading completely. After all, His guidance has proven both kind and wise in the past. However, those places within me that fight tooth and nail against trusting wage battles left and right. Instead, ground is won in my life parcel by parcel, foot by foot. It is a slow, laborious process, yet I can see that I'm not the same person this year as I was last. I can see places where the battle has been won, and that gives me hope.
That being said, when I was knocked down by the flu a week and a half ago, I was not only unhappy that I was sick, but angry that I needed the help of my family for incredibly simple tasks. I knew from my bout with pneumonia last year, that my body did not share my philosophy of pressing on despite indications that the opposite approach was warranted. I did learn from that experience and stayed in bed. Truth be told, I'm sure if I could have managed to hold my head up longer than a few measely minutes, I would have found some way to grade papers or organize a lesson of some sort. I simply didn't have the energy to do anything.
My family was a great help and support during this time, as they always are. My problem was that I was still stewing over the fact that I had had to accept that help and support. You see, in my life, I give the help and support. I don't really know how to receive very well. I know it seems odd, but nevertheless, that is one of the struggles I face. The reasons for that are dancing around in my head even as I type.
Ultimately, the reasons and causes become just a backdrop for the main dance of original sin. Mankind....I....want to live independent from God. What we know, regardless of pain level, is easier to accept than giving up the wads of filthy, tattered rags for the hope and promise of what is to come. If you are like me, where hope and promises have been shattered over and over by those around you as you've reached each stage of life, that is the scariest prospect of all.
I know my Father is very patient with me. His love astounds me on a daily basis. For those who can't seem to understand how I can know Him intimately and yet still fear, all I can say is I can only the walk the life I've been given, and it is where I am. It is my hope to reach a place where those doubts and fears no longer exist this side of Heaven. If I fail to see that reality, I know when I am in His presence, all remaining fears will dissapate.
Isn't it great to know that no matter what the struggle is, He is big enough to handle it? What an amazing God we serve!
I am highly stubborn and a tad independent....well, tad might be an understatement. I don't do well in situations where I can't depend on skill, intellect, or sheer bullheadedness to make it through difficulties. The problem with that approach, as you may well know, is that it is entirely contrary to the call upon my life. My Father calls me to rest, to abide in Him, to let go of my right to rights, and to be gentle as doves. I wish desperately that I could once and for all trust His leading completely. After all, His guidance has proven both kind and wise in the past. However, those places within me that fight tooth and nail against trusting wage battles left and right. Instead, ground is won in my life parcel by parcel, foot by foot. It is a slow, laborious process, yet I can see that I'm not the same person this year as I was last. I can see places where the battle has been won, and that gives me hope.
That being said, when I was knocked down by the flu a week and a half ago, I was not only unhappy that I was sick, but angry that I needed the help of my family for incredibly simple tasks. I knew from my bout with pneumonia last year, that my body did not share my philosophy of pressing on despite indications that the opposite approach was warranted. I did learn from that experience and stayed in bed. Truth be told, I'm sure if I could have managed to hold my head up longer than a few measely minutes, I would have found some way to grade papers or organize a lesson of some sort. I simply didn't have the energy to do anything.
My family was a great help and support during this time, as they always are. My problem was that I was still stewing over the fact that I had had to accept that help and support. You see, in my life, I give the help and support. I don't really know how to receive very well. I know it seems odd, but nevertheless, that is one of the struggles I face. The reasons for that are dancing around in my head even as I type.
Ultimately, the reasons and causes become just a backdrop for the main dance of original sin. Mankind....I....want to live independent from God. What we know, regardless of pain level, is easier to accept than giving up the wads of filthy, tattered rags for the hope and promise of what is to come. If you are like me, where hope and promises have been shattered over and over by those around you as you've reached each stage of life, that is the scariest prospect of all.
I know my Father is very patient with me. His love astounds me on a daily basis. For those who can't seem to understand how I can know Him intimately and yet still fear, all I can say is I can only the walk the life I've been given, and it is where I am. It is my hope to reach a place where those doubts and fears no longer exist this side of Heaven. If I fail to see that reality, I know when I am in His presence, all remaining fears will dissapate.
Isn't it great to know that no matter what the struggle is, He is big enough to handle it? What an amazing God we serve!
Monday, January 17, 2011
The Cross
My daughter was watching a movie about the Craig’s list killer this weekend. I was struck by the comments made by the investigators that he was difficult to pinpoint because he was so normal. He did not fit the typical profile and had not yet been identified in the criminal database. By his appearance, his demeanor, and life circumstances, you would never suspect the evil that lurked in his heart. Watching, it is easy to take on the role of an observer and declare oneself immune from such choices. That is, unless you have already visited those places in yourself and know that no sin, big or small, is beyond the depravity that lies within your own heart.
No one who has gazed at that reality can cluck their tongues in smug disapproval at grievous human choice. It is not some self endowed religious will power that makes you different from an anguished girl contemplating ending the life of her unborn baby. Your superior genes do not keep you from indulging the anger that burns within through domestic violence. Neither does the fact that you engage in regular date nights keep extra-marital lusts at bay. “There but for the grace of God go I,” is not a proclamation of supremacy, but sober recognition that God’s infinite grace shaped life’s circumstances in such a way to keep some temptations just outside the easy grasp of my greedy clutch.
I’ve experienced enough of my own failures to know there is no sin too great that given the right set of circumstances, that it would not enter my contemplation. The spirit within acts as a rudder to steer me away from many circumstances, but my flesh ambushes the controls and takes me places so tantalizing that it is only God’s grace that prevents my diving recklessly into its siren-called depths. It is in this place that you realize just how much Christ’s payment for sin really was. Today thankfully embrace the redemption of the cross!
No one who has gazed at that reality can cluck their tongues in smug disapproval at grievous human choice. It is not some self endowed religious will power that makes you different from an anguished girl contemplating ending the life of her unborn baby. Your superior genes do not keep you from indulging the anger that burns within through domestic violence. Neither does the fact that you engage in regular date nights keep extra-marital lusts at bay. “There but for the grace of God go I,” is not a proclamation of supremacy, but sober recognition that God’s infinite grace shaped life’s circumstances in such a way to keep some temptations just outside the easy grasp of my greedy clutch.
I’ve experienced enough of my own failures to know there is no sin too great that given the right set of circumstances, that it would not enter my contemplation. The spirit within acts as a rudder to steer me away from many circumstances, but my flesh ambushes the controls and takes me places so tantalizing that it is only God’s grace that prevents my diving recklessly into its siren-called depths. It is in this place that you realize just how much Christ’s payment for sin really was. Today thankfully embrace the redemption of the cross!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Heartache
I'm a teacher-a fourth grade language arts teacher to be more precise. It is a place I never envisioned myself from that youthful, starry-eyed vantage of youth. Yet, here I am.
In an effort to help pull engaging stories from my students yesterday, I introduced them to the concept of emotional levels. The lighthearted laughter vibrated in the room as we tossed around numerous level one topics. Students nodded vigorously at every mentioned topic because those comprise their every day lives. As the lesson progressed; however, the mood in the room shifted and the students became somber and reflective, each reliving private sorrows. I looked into their eyes and was startled at their familiarity. This was a pain I knew all too well- a pain that still haunts me and one I'd just as soon forget ever made me who I am. It is the thing I wrestle with God the most about. Why THIS story? I still don't have the answers to that, and may never. I do trust my Father though, and as best as I am able, accept the reality of the memories that shaped and deepened me.
Those sweet little eyes fighting tears or hollowness searched mine for relief. The burden of knowing that I can't pluck them out of their circumstances and blow a puff of amnesia dust in their faces so they'll forget weighed heavy on my heart. I saw myself in them and remembered my own fears. I didn't have much to bring them, but what I had, I offered. From my own anguish, but with the wisdom of adult eyes, I helped them to see their worlds as they should be... as children who were placed in circumstances beyond their control or ability to understand. I explained they have choices within their circumstances.
Some of them will fling their child's heart far from themselves and watch it shrivel under the cruel rays of adult responsibilities and worries. However, I hope that at least one of them will understand that they are not to blame, nor are they responsible for fixing the adults around them who make evil or foolish choices. Maybe that one will be able to detach themselves from God's role in their parents lives and their own. It is the prayer that comes to my lips for them all, for myself even after all these years.
Sorrow is abundant. It surrounds us all, wearing a thousand different faces. May we all walk through those sorrows under His wings where we are safe and comforted.
In an effort to help pull engaging stories from my students yesterday, I introduced them to the concept of emotional levels. The lighthearted laughter vibrated in the room as we tossed around numerous level one topics. Students nodded vigorously at every mentioned topic because those comprise their every day lives. As the lesson progressed; however, the mood in the room shifted and the students became somber and reflective, each reliving private sorrows. I looked into their eyes and was startled at their familiarity. This was a pain I knew all too well- a pain that still haunts me and one I'd just as soon forget ever made me who I am. It is the thing I wrestle with God the most about. Why THIS story? I still don't have the answers to that, and may never. I do trust my Father though, and as best as I am able, accept the reality of the memories that shaped and deepened me.
Those sweet little eyes fighting tears or hollowness searched mine for relief. The burden of knowing that I can't pluck them out of their circumstances and blow a puff of amnesia dust in their faces so they'll forget weighed heavy on my heart. I saw myself in them and remembered my own fears. I didn't have much to bring them, but what I had, I offered. From my own anguish, but with the wisdom of adult eyes, I helped them to see their worlds as they should be... as children who were placed in circumstances beyond their control or ability to understand. I explained they have choices within their circumstances.
Some of them will fling their child's heart far from themselves and watch it shrivel under the cruel rays of adult responsibilities and worries. However, I hope that at least one of them will understand that they are not to blame, nor are they responsible for fixing the adults around them who make evil or foolish choices. Maybe that one will be able to detach themselves from God's role in their parents lives and their own. It is the prayer that comes to my lips for them all, for myself even after all these years.
Sorrow is abundant. It surrounds us all, wearing a thousand different faces. May we all walk through those sorrows under His wings where we are safe and comforted.
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