I have always known that the Almighty God of the Universe loves to listen to my laments and supplications all tangled up with love and adoration. Longs for them. He desires to commune with me, and wants to know my every need. I know that he delights in my words and the aroma of my praises as if it is the sweetest scent to ever reach his nostrils.
God loves prayer.
I need to tell you the truth, though. It’s never been enough to know that. As in head knowledge know.
Trust me…I can pray. I mean bring down the house if I want to. My words are right on and my desire is fierce and I can see straight through to the quick of an issue. I don’t often mince words. If my God already knows me and is acquainted with my grief…then I’m not going to wimp out and beat around the bush to get his attention.
I tell him like it is.
As if I could. Like he doesn’t already know. As if somehow he might be asleep or busy with something else or decides not to see.
So many times in my life I’ve felt so unheard that I sometimes get caught up in the idea that maybe what I have to say…what I ask…what I need…gets bypassed. Ignored. Overridden by something bigger or more important. Like a drought in a foreign land or the starving of innocent children or a war in the desert.(Blasted mirror on the wall, how I can have the smallest faith of them all).
I’ll bet some of you have felt that way, too.
Yet, I pray anyway.
This time, though, this time I couldn’t do it. Hit square between the eyes with something so intimately close and precious to me made me paralyzed to prayer. Stymied. Silenced.
I did not know how to pray.
The only thing I could think of, the only plea that went through my mind was, “Help me. Please, Help me!”. In fact, this became my moment by moment mantra.
I couldn’t even pray it out loud. Because I was afraid that if I spoke those words, audibly sent them reeling into the ether, I would break open like a long dormant geyser waiting to gush years and years of held back water.
So I did what I tell so many others to do. I found those who could. There were only a few who came to mind, so I called each one with the news of my tragedy. Help me. Please Help me. I need you to do something so sacred and so necessary for me. I need you to fill in this gap of mine. I need you.
And I’m telling you this was HARD. Asking another. Trusting another. Handing over this kind of power to another. So, so hard for me to do.
Life now depended on it. I needed every ounce of power I could get to deal with what was before me.
I handed it over and laid it down and
Released it and put it into the hands of those trusted few.
And I so want to tell you…I wonder if I could ever really convey to you what happened.
I was set free. The shackles of self-imposed pressure were severed. The ball at the end of my doubt chain was cut loose.
That very moment I dropped it. My ego and pride. Doing so allowed supernatural strength and insight to flood my being. And if you think that’s an exaggeration, well, I don’t blame you. I’d think so, too.
Something remarkable happened to me.
Tremendous and newfound power emerged.
It’s as if I crossed over some sort of threshold just then. Walked into some kind of secret chamber of awareness. A sacred place where the same God who breathed into the lungs of Adam was waiting…patiently. A place where needy rag dolls like me go to be filled with that same breath of life.
In this space, prayer was transformed and changed into something far more valuable. I realized that in such a time as this…my every move, my every thought…became a living, breathing prayer before Him. A pain relieving exhale of holy inspiration.
The expensive and priceless perfume of surrender.
I could stop petitioning and pleading to be heard. I could leave that in the hands of my band of praying warriors. Even better, leave it in the hands of an Omniscient God. I didn’t need to see the issue clearly or come up with the right words. All I needed to do was walk forward and trust that He would help me.
He already knew and I didn’t have to tell Him.
Because…now I was the drought.
The starving child.
In the midst of the greatest war of my life.