Tag Archives: Prayer

for you i pray

I wanted to tie 2012 up in a nice bow, bid it a fond goodbye, wax poetic about lessons learned and new beginnings and such. But my heart keeps turning away from all of that, bidding my mind to stop chattering long enough to just listen. And the weight of what I hear bends my heart, bowing it low. Voices from this past year. Conversations I’ve heard, words I’ve read. And I feel the Holy Spirit in this little room, this prayer room. I feel His weight on my heart as He reminds me to step out of my small story. And so I enter yours, with prayer…

hanging_by_a_threadFor those who spent this year hanging on by a thread. Maybe it’s a thread of hope. Maybe a thread attached to the hem of His garment, but a thread nonetheless. For you, I pray you will stop trying to trust Him. Trust is not something you try, it’s something you choose. He wants so much more for you than a thread of hope, a thread of trust. He wants handfuls for you. I pray that you will not be content with a thread in hand, but that you will let go of His garment and grab onto Him, and find your hands overflowing, unable to contain what you hold. For you, the thread holder, I pray ~

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

A year of both hands full of Christ, holding on to all of Him with trust and confidence, and hope that overflows. Both hands, beloved, grab onto Him with both hands, and let go of the thread.

PENTAX ImageFor those who suffered great loss and spent time in the ash heap of mourning. For you, the one now familiar with great sorrow and what surely feels like unquenchable pain. I pray you will know His comfort, like a balm, for that pain. I pray God opens His hand and pours forth joy, like oil over your mourning heart. I pray that at just the right time, His time, He will invite you to dance. Yes, beloved, you have known the time to mourn, but there is still a time to dance. I pray that this year you will receive grace to comfort others with the comfort you have received. I pray for all of your pain, all of your grief, every tear to be used, nothing wasted. And I pray that His promise will strengthen you on those days when grief attempts to hijack your heart ~

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

I pray that you will emerge from the ashes, steadfast and sure that all of this, the pain, the tears, the death, are all temporary conditions. That you will know and give others the hope that a reunion will happen, a holy hand will wipe away the last of the tears, and never again will you know this pain.

For those who spent the year afraid. Afraid something will never end, or perhaps that nothing will begin. Afraid of too much or not enough. Afraid that you didn’t hear Him right, or that you did. Afraid of what you feel, or of the fact that you feel nothing and maybe you never will. What if nothing changes? What if everything changes? For the one tormented by fear, I first pray peace for your wildly beating heart. I pray that this year He will lead you on a journey of letting go of fear. A journey of cliff jumping into faith, arms wide, heart fully expecting to be caught by His hands. I pray that you will know that He is with you, always, and that He will not drop you. I pray that your heart will come to know perfect love in the deep places where fear often hides. For you, the one who lived this year full of fear, I pray you will hear the voice of your Savior ~

“Don’t be afraid; just believe.”

I pray that this will be a year of increasing faith for you, the year where belief in the power and love of your God leaves no room for fear.

For the one who lived with disappointment. Unmet expectations that took the wind out of your sails throughout the year. Hopes and plans and dreams that fell apart. Your heart grows weary. I pray for you, dear one. I pray that this will be the year of renewed hope in God, and lower expectations in people. I pray that all of your hope, every last drop of it, will be in God and God alone. I pray for strength to hold on, and strength to let go. To let go of people and hold firmly to God, where your hope will find no disappointment. I pray that this year will find your prayers being answered, for God knows what hope deferred does to our hearts.

“But the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him, on those whose hope is in His unfailing love…”

Hoist your sails again, friend, and lift your voice in prayer with confidence that your God hears, your God sees, and your God will answer. His love will not fail.

For the one who tried. You tried being good enough. Tried praying, tried church. Tried to read the bible full of words you don’t understand. Tried to be nicer. Tried saying the right things the right way, tried fitting in. You followed the list of do’s and don’ts. You tried, but your life is still a mess. Your heart is still empty and so are your pockets. Your addiction still rages, and your marriage is still broken. And you just don’t get it. For you I pray that this was the last year.

The last year that you remain pinned to the ground by the enemy. The last year that you live unaware of Love. Unaware that there is a Father in heaven who created you, longs for you, and gave up His Son so that you could know Him.

I pray someone will be brave enough to walk up to you and tell you the truth; that what you need is grace and trying isn’t currency to buy it with because grace is free, and only grace can put us back together and Jesus has the grace to give if you will just come. Come, while you are yet a sinner. While you are yet broken and messy, with all that rages in you and against you…come. I pray they tell you that trying won’t save you, it takes dying and Jesus did that dying for you.

cross1

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

For you, my messy, broken friend, I pray that this was your last year of trying. I pray this is the year you cry out to Jesus in faith that He is who He said He is…the only One who can save you. I pray this is the year you find freedom in Christ, and you find out just how loved you really are by Him. I pray this is the year someone tells you.

To all my friends, family, and those I encounter through the written word…I pray for you, and for me…

Our Father in heaven, Your name be honored as holy.
Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.And do not bring us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.

Happy New Year!

Romans 15:13; Ecclesiastes 3:4; Revelation 21:4; Ephesians 3:17-18; 1John 4:18; Mark 5:36; Psalm 33:18; Romans 5:8; John 14:6; Matthew 6:9-13

after the car wreck

Yesterday was the worst day so far, since the accident. My husband and I went out to run an errand. I held his hand. In a death grip. With the other hand I held the arm of the door with that same death grip. Throughout the ride I gasped and cringed, even though my husband was driving very carefully, and even describing everything he was doing the whole time, letting me know he saw every car and was very aware of his surroundings. Still, my heart raced.

And I cried. I cried because I was afraid. I cried because this thing has such a grip on me. I cried because I need to get back to my life and that means being in the car, and I can’t. I just can’t.

We arrived back home and I felt utterly defeated. And then we had to turn right back around and go out again, to go to church (we were going to the evening service). It was almost too much for me, but I did it, determined not to cry this time.  Instead, I asked Jesus to help me with this fear, got into the car, and made it all the way to church without crying. And that’s where He met me with a revelation that, I think, has changed this game.

It was during worship (don’t EVER underestimate the importance of entering into worship, even when you don’t feel like it). During this song we sang these lyrics:

I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
There is no one like You God
I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
No other name be lifted high

And suddenly I knew.

I had exalted my fear. Granted it permission to take over my heart. Played the game like my fear was the biggest, baddest, strongest player on the field. I wrecked my car and now fear was wrecking me. Fear was winning the game. That made me mad.

And so I sang. And my song became a prayer. “I will exalt YOU. No other. YOU. Nothing else has the right to hold my heart above You. Nothing. I lift You high. Higher than the accident. Higher than pain. Higher than guilt. Higher than fear. I exalt You.

The drive home was easier, but I attributed it to the fact that it was dark out, and what I can’t see can’t scare me. (Silly, right? Because what we can’t see is EXACTLY what scares us!) I couldn’t imagine that a few moments in worship that birthed a revelation that birthed a prayer, could work that fast. (My rock hard faith amazes me sometimes.)

So I just have to ask. What about you? Is there something that is being exalted in your heart or in your mind that has no right to be lifted that high?

Is there a fear, anger, an illness, or a disappointment that has become higher than Jesus? How about a desire, a spouse, or a child? A gifting, a calling, even a ministry?

What grips your heart?

Let it be Jesus.

hey buddy…got a quarter?

“Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” Acts 3:6

I would have dug around for a quarter.

Ever been in one of those awkward prayer circles? You know the scene. At church on Sunday, Betty tells Susie of a certain (or very vague) struggle she’s having. Susie gets excited and says “wait here, I’ll be right back”, and indeed she does come “right back”, with 5 other women in tow, and you’re one of them.

Sometimes I stand in those circles, and it’s like me and God are just staring at each other, each waiting for the other one to say something. I’m waiting, straining to hear Him speak in case He’s whispering. Nothing. I start to get a little nervous because it’s a circle. That means the unwritten rule of “everyone has to pray when it’s their turn” goes into effect. If you try to skip your turn, an incredibly awkward silence will ensue and your neck will get really hot and your hands become all clammy. So you start begging God for something, anything that would be even a little sincere, but He just stares at you. And now, the person next to you is taking her turn and you’re literally screaming in your head, promising God all sorts of things if He will “JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING TO PRAY!”. And then it’s your turn, so you kick it into auto pilot and start praying “the right things to pray”, using your finely tuned grasp of the Christianese language. Finally it’s over and you can wipe your sweaty hands on your pants and go home and brood about God’s silence when you so desperately needed Him to give you something to pray so that you wouldn’t have to fake it. Again.

Ok, maybe that’s just me. Maybe this is why I am so desperate for the heart of God. Because I’m tired of giving people what I don’t have.

So this morning I opened my bible, put on some worship music, and came with great expectation of…something. I didn’t know what it would be, but I wasn’t going to leave until my heart tasted something.

Breakfast was served…

“That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched —this we proclaim concerning the Word of life. The life appeared; we have seen it and testify to it, and we proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and has appeared to us. We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ.” 1John 1:1-3

“Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” Acts 3:6

“When the Counselor comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truthwho goes out from the Father, he will testify about me. And you also must testify, for you have been with me from the beginning.” John 15:26-27

They proclaimed what they had seen and heard from Him, they gave what they had been given by Him, and they testified because they had been with Him.

Being with Him, hearing Him, receiving from Him. It all spells intimacy, and when we have intimacy with Jesus, we have something to proclaim, something to give. It’s hard to pray in faith for someone else when my own spiritual life is bone dry. And it’s hard to proclaim, with believability, the power of God to someone else when your own life lacks that power. Try testifying about the peace of Christ when you are full of anxiety and fear.

I may have known His peace yesterday. Perhaps I prayed with incredible faith last year. Maybe I’ve heard His voice many, many times, just not lately. But it’s no longer then…it’s now. Intimacy with God is about today, not yesterday. Did I come to the well to drink deep of Him today? Did I gather His manna today? Or am I trying to stay alive with yesterday’s bread and water? (And by the way…is that all I want? To stay alive?)

I went to the well this morning, and He met me there with this –

“I want to meet with you every single day, as long as it’s called today. Because I love you, and I want you to know it. Today, not yesterday.

And because if all you have is a quarter in your pocket, no one is going to get up and walk.”

then i will look up

“My voice You shall hear in the morning, O LORD;
         In the morning I will direct it to You,
         And I will look up.” (Psalm 5:3 NKJV)

 I will not pray to You, and then look to man for an answer.

I will not cry out to You, and then look at my own feeble hands, as though they have the power to lift me up.

I will not voice my trust in You, and then look down in despair at my “not enough”.

I will not thank You for Your salvation, and then look to my own self-righteousness.

I will not give thanks for Your mercy, and then look upon others with scorn.

I will not call you King of Kings, and then look to earthly kings for my security and well being.

I will not sing “You alone are worthy”, and then cast my gaze to earthly idols.

I will not seek You for provision, and then look for another well from which to draw.

I will not ask Your forgiveness, and then turn my head in shame.

Though it may be but a whisper, You will hear my voice.

And then I will look up.