Category Archives: prayer

faith meets life . . .

 

I listen to their voices as they herald their morning choruses. Songs of faith. Melodies written in antiquity, yet music still breathing the living witness of God.

I hear them recite their morning verses. Words of faith. Scripture written in antiquity, yet truth still breathing the living witness of God.

My children are working their faith through with the help of our homeschool curriculum. What joy to hear these sounds again! Something about the rocks crying out resonates in my spirit. What I have forgotten to do … what I have often chosen not to do resurfaces in my son and daughter. This is good habit. This is music to my soul.

And my mind wanders across the sea to others who are doing the same—heralding their morning choruses and reciting their morning verses, despite great persecution. My brothers and sisters in Christ living out their faith on the front-lines in Egypt. This is when it counts for them—when faith works itself out in their flesh … literally. The surrenders being made there cannot be measured by statistics. Not really. Instead, this kind of surrender can only be measured by the heart.

True worship. Authentic praise. Unparalleled obedience. Unwavering trust. Faith on the front-lines of the battlefield named Persecution.

This is the life of a Christian in Egypt today. Great strain coupled with great faith.

Is this the life of a Christian in rural North Carolina today? Is there anything great about the strain and faith in my life? Is there anything great about yours?

Each and every day we wake up to the battlefield named Life. Accordingly, we have some choices to make.

How will we worship?

How will we praise?

How will we obey?

How will we trust?

If our faith was placed on the front-lines of the battlefield named Persecution, how would we stand?

I’m thinking there’s a great deal more to this suffering than my mind can comprehend, a lot of refining attached to hard choices made on the front-lines and in the face of certain, painful consequences.

Perhaps, this is when faith shines brightest. My brothers and sisters in Egypt may not be able to see the light from where they’re standing today, but I see their flame from where I’m crouching in rural North Carolina. Their candles burn brightly; their faith shines surely. Certainly, it is enough to strengthen weak hands, fortify feeble knees, and straighten the paths that our faith is living upon this day (Heb. 12:10-13).

Songs of faith. Words of faith. Antiquity made new again in my heart this morning. Here on the battlefield named Life. There on the battlefield named Persecution. Faith lived in between and among us.

From rural North Carolina across the sea to Egypt and everywhere along the way, light the candle of faith, friends. Keep it burning. We need one another. As always …

Peace for the journey,

Learning to Pray Again

I remember how strange it seemed. Foreign to me. Familiar to others.

Prostrate prayers before the Lord, face-down on my red quilt, pointed eastward toward Jerusalem. It was her challenge to us following the Raleigh Living Proof Live event I’d attended. It soon became my default.

At first it was awkward, almost ridiculous at times. I felt odd, uncomfortable, and out of place. Was I doing it right? Where should I put my arms? How should I begin the conversation with God? But I kept to it, this horizontal approach to Jesus. Days turned into weeks, and weeks collected as months. With little fanfare, face-down praying slipped into my daily routine as habit.

And I loved my prayer time with Jesus.

But then one September morning in 2010 I stopped. Cancer interrupted my routine, and out of necessity, I traded in my face-down prayers for upright ones. I folded my red quilt, stored it neatly in the blanket basket, and promised God I’d get back to it as soon as I could. As soon as the scars healed. As soon as my knees gave me permission to bend without pain.

It’s been three years now since I’ve hit the floor in reverence. And while my scars have mostly healed and my pain has lessened, the quilt (for the most part) remains folded, used on occasion for warmth by other family members.

And I’ve suffered in my prayer time with Jesus.

What I used to love, I no longer craved. What I used to practice, I no longer pursued. What I used to know, I no longer remembered.

Until last week.

While sitting around the table with new friends discussing Bill Hybel’s book on prayer, I remembered what I used to love, what I used to practice, what I used to know. Last week, I recalled my red quilt, the intimacy of face-down prayers shared with the Father, and, with a contrite heart, I remembered my promise to him … to get back to it as soon as I could.

As soon as I could came and went a couple of years ago. What once felt so impossible—this stretching out of flesh before the Father—was made possible again by his healing hands. Sadly, I let it slip by without notice. A habit not pursued is easily forgotten, replaced by what’s reasonable, what’s comfortable. All too often, what’s reasonable and comfortable is a formula for complacency – a last-luster, dulled approach to connecting with life … to connecting with Jesus.

Not wanting anything dull and lack-luster as it pertains to my life with Jesus, I went in search of the red quilt last week. I found God’s East, and I laid down toward it. Scars to the ground, stretched out and head bowed low before the King. Not ridiculous this time around; instead, more readily embraced. Old habits remembered (especially the ones that are sweet) are ones willingly reinstated.

And, once again, I loved my prayer time with Jesus. This is how I will move forward in my conversations with him. This is where I will meet him in the mornings. Not out of obligation, but rather out of privilege.

I am able, so I will. Scars and all. Stretched out and stretched thin. Face to the floor. Heart to the heavens. This is, indeed, sweetness to my soul.

Peace for the journey,

What about you, friend? Do you love your prayer times with Jesus? What sweet habit of prayer have you learned? I’d love to hear more.

God’s will done on earth . . .

 

Consider heaven.

Take a moment or two or ten and consider the heavenly kingdom that exists just beyond the veil. What thoughts come to mind? What do you believe to be true about your Father’s house and the rooms he has prepared in advance of your arrival?

As I’ve taken time to petition God with the most potent, practical prayer I can offer on behalf of my sons (and others)—“Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven”—a few thoughts surface regarding what I might actually be praying for them. What is God’s will in heaven? How does it live, breathe, and function? When we ask God for a similar measure to fall into our lives on planet earth, what might that look like?

I’m not an expert on heaven, but I do know God. His Word is alive and active in me. So as I consider heaven and God’s will therein, I’m confident that when I pray the prayer our Father taught us to pray in Matt. 6:9-13, I’m asking for a few specific things.

1. Revealed truth. Untainted. Pure. Without compromise. Absolute understanding. When you and I make it to the shores of our heavenly home, our eyes will be opened fully to truth. We’ll recognize truth, hold truth, walk in and with truth without any temporal constraints to blur our focus (see John 14:6-7). Certainly, we carry a measure of truth in our hearts as we travel this earthen sod, but imagine carrying it without hindrance.

When we pray the most potent, practical prayer on behalf of others, we’re praying for truth to be revealed exponentially to them on earth, even as it is revealed in heaven.

2. An accurate perception of God. Oh to see him face-to-face! To know God for who he is and to perfectly understand who we are in relation to who he is. That we, like our spiritual ancestors, might catch a glimpse of the Father in his radiant splendor and fall to our knees in humble response (see Rev. 1:17). That the mirrors which cradle our egos might shatter to the floor and, instead, we courageously allow ourselves to look in God’s eyes and see our true reflections set against the backdrop of his heart.

When we pray the most potent, practical prayer on behalf of others, we’re praying for glimpses of God in all of his glory to be made manifest in their lives. That they would perceive him accurately and respond accordingly.

3. Fellowship. People from every tribe, tongue, and nation will share the boundaries of heaven (see Rev. 5:9). Color won’t divide us. Language won’t confuse us. Geographical borders won’t separate us. Instead, our color, language, and geographical intricacies will enrich the heavenly banqueting table with enough flavors to last an eternal lifetime . . . to last forever.

When we pray the most potent, practical prayer on behalf of others, we’re praying for earthly fellowship that mirrors heaven’s family reunion. Oh to live that now and not allow our geography to segregate us but rather to enliven us and prepare us for the camaraderie of forever.

4. Worship. When did we stop? Why did we stop? Could it be that we’ve never really understood what worship means? For starters, reread #1 and #2. When we take hold of God’s truth and begin to understand who we are in relation to who God IS, then worship isn’t something we do on Sunday mornings; worship is how we live every moment of our lives. We pay our respects to the King. We make pilgrimage to the manger and lay our gifts at his feet. We journey further to the cross and share the grace meal with the grace-Giver. We travel on to the tomb and fill our famished hearts with its vacancy. We move finally and fully to the garden and realize that God is still with us, still in our midst. That he has chosen and continues to make his home with us through the power of the Holy Spirit and that one day soon, we’ll echo the resurrection cry of Easter, “Rabboni! … I have seen the Lord!” (see John 20:16-18).

When we pray the most potent, practical prayer on behalf of others, we’re asking for their hearts to be free from worldly constraints so that they might be able to live each moment of their lives reverently, acknowledging God and giving him his due. He’s due everything. We owe him everything. Get this, and you’ll get worship.

Revealed truth. An accurate perception of God. Fellowship. Worship. Four overflows from the most potent, practical prayer we can offer on behalf of others, “Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven.” Certainly, not the fullness of this prayer; I’ve a feeling I’ve only scratched its surface. But it’s a start, a good way to begin this very good day. On my knees and in prayer for those I love.

Would you take a moment today to consider heaven and, then, out of that consideration pray the most potent, practical prayer on behalf of someone you love? What does “Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven” mean for you … for them? There is no more pressing, worthy consideration of your heart. When you take the time to consider heaven in all its fullness (and especially on behalf of others), you open your heart and theirs to forever.

And so I pray on behalf of you, friends . . .

God’s will be done in your lives today even as it is done in heaven. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

the most potent, practical prayer for our children

God’s Word instructs us to pray about everything. With prayer and thanksgiving we are to present our requests to God; accordingly, his promise to us in return is his peace—a measure of settled, heavenly comfort moving in to replace (or at least temporarily cover over) the disruptions of our hearts (see Phil. 4:6-7).

My heart’s been disrupted lately. How about you? Anything weighing you down and pulling you to your knees in search of answers?

My prayers seem to run in cycles. Whatever is most pressing (finances, church life, vocational strains, marriage, children, etc.) usually takes front and center when I entreat the Father with my thoughts. I wish I could say that I have this prayer thing figured out. I don’t. I wish my prayer life was more consistent. It isn’t. I wish I heard God’s voice more fully in my moments of concentrated conversation. I don’t. Instead, my prayer life is a strange mixture of half-hearted discipline, charged emotion, good intentions, and words that, more often than not, fill up a space rather than release the power of the Almighty.

Still and yet, I pray. Partly because of a long obedience to the practice, but mostly because there have been many times when my seemingly feeble attempts at communicating with God have yielded powerful, peace-filled results. Prayer works. All I have to do is to look back at the forty-seven plus years of my life to realize that where I am today … who I am today is the sum-total result of God’s willingness to move on my behalf because of the prayers of the saints.

Not that God couldn’t have brought me to this point of being the woman I am all on his own. God IS and does shape his children according to his great purposes. But I do believe he gives us a voice, his heavenly consideration when we bring our heartfelt petitions before his throne. Prayer is how we exercise our free will alongside God’s will. I don’t understand it all; I don’t need to. I simply believe in this joint, holy cooperation between the Father and his children to accomplish his great purposes upon this earth. Which leads me (and I realize it’s taken me a while to get here) to today’s rumination—the most pressing, on the front-edge-of-my-heart prayer.

What is the most potent, practical petition I can offer to God on behalf of my eldest sons?

There’s something they need today, something more from God that I’ve yet to see unfold. Accordingly, what could I ask of the Father that might hasten the process along? After all, isn’t that what we’re doing with most of our prayers, asking God to move on behalf of our requests?

Prayers for God to love them? No. He’s already loved them to death – literally. Nothing I can say can change the measure of God’s love for my sons. After all, they were his children before they were mine. God sets the standard for perfect parenting, perfect loving. Asking him to love them more is, well, a bit redundant. So I move on from there.

Other practical prayers. Prayers for good health? Good mates? Good jobs? Good friends? Good decisions? A good day? Well, certainly I run through these on a regular basis, some of them receiving more attention, more words as it pertains to the most pressing need of their daily existence. But really, these fall short for me; these feel more empty than full, like I’ve missed the mark somehow in my parental prayers.

And so I pray about it, a long while this morning and the better part of last night’s slumbering. God, what is the most potent, practical petition I can offer to you this morning on behalf of my eldest sons?

God speaks to me through his Word.

This is how to pray, Elaine; this is what you must ask for them: That my will be done in their lives on this earth as it is done in heaven (see Matt. 6:9-13).

He wouldn’t tell us to pray along these lines unless there was a need to pray along these lines. Somewhere between heavenly perfection and earthly attempts at the same, there is a line that separates the two. What is perfectly lived beyond us is not always perfectly lived within us. But I believe there’s a measure of it made available to us – our God’s perfect will unfolding before us even now, even as we live in this sin-sick, sin-saturated fallen world. A strong measure of how-it-is-done in heaven even as it is imperfectly done on this earth.

And this, friends, is the most potent, practical, and, yes, perfect petition we can offer to the Father on behalf of one another, eldest sons included. That God’s will might be made manifest in the lives of those we love; that he might orchestrate, push, prompt, and put in the paths of our children those people, situations, and even stumbling blocks that will bring them in perfect proximity with the perfect plan of heaven. All those other prayers we pray for them? For health, mates, jobs, friends, good decisions, and good days? Well, I’ll never tell you not to pray them. I would, however, tell you that all the temporal gains on this earth matter little if they don’t match up with the eternal gain of forever.

When God’s heaven cracks open just enough so that a little bit of it falls upon earth in radiant manifestation and speechless splendor, then we know that our prayers have moved the heart of God. That’s what I want – radiant, God-ordained heavenly movement in the lives of my eldest sons. The rest of it—their health, mates, jobs, friends, good days? Well, I don’t imagine they’ll get through this life without some heartache as it pertains to all of the “rest of it.” But this I do imagine . . .

When heaven drops down into their hearts, all of the “rest of it” can be lived in perfect peace and with abundant hope.

This is my mother’s prayer. The most potent, practical, petition I will offer on behalf of my eldest sons today.

Father, thy will be done in their lives, on this earth, even as it is done in heaven. Amen.

As always, friends . . . 

Peace for the journey,

 

a prayer for the night . . .

simple trust . . .

“When you come to the door, kiss me on the cheek so that I know I am safe.”

So wrote my daughter on a slip of paper last week. She placed the note in the hallway, next to her bedroom door, so I would see it on my way to bed. At first glance, I thought these might be lyrics from a new Taylor Swift song that my daughter scribbled down. Upon further examination, I realized that these were Amelia’s sentiments, not Taylor’s. That, in fact, my daughter wanted me to kiss her on the cheek a final time before my own tucking in time. In doing so, she knew she’d be safe.

I suppose she reasoned that I would make it back to her bedroom before she fell asleep, but even if I didn’t, just knowing that I was coming and that she was going to be checked on and tucked in one final time was enough to rock sweet Amelia to sleep.

Momma will come to me. Momma will check on me. Momma will touch me. I am safe. I can rest.

There’s something about a parent’s love that soothes the unrest of the night . . . that moves in to overshadow the darkness and to replace distrust with certainty. Knowing that momma is on the move and making her final round quells the simmering fear of the unknown—the shadows of slumber that slip in and out of dreams, challenging reasonable thoughts.

I am not so unlike my daughter. Sometimes, I, too, need the reassurance of my Father in my darkness. Sometimes, the shadows loom largely on my bedroom wall, and my imagination gets the best of me. Sometimes, tomorrow seems like a long time in coming and a gentle touch on my cheek from a loving parent goes a long way toward soothing the fretful ache within.

“Daddy, Father, God, when you come to my door, kiss me on the cheek so that I know I am safe.”

Safe to sleep. Safe to let go of what I cannot control and to, instead, rest beneath the safety of the night Watchman who has me covered from every angle.

A simple prayer to pray. A simple trust to offer. A simple childlike faith that believes the nighttime is the right time to count on a Father’s love. As always . . .

Peace for the journey,

What prayer keeps you safe in the night?

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