Of Being Fed

We're still in Mark. Last week we covered Jesus feeding five thousand men and their families with five loaves of bread and two fish. Today I read about His feeding four thousand with seven loaves and a few fish. A pair of well-known stories, but what amazes me are the reactions afterward - particularly of his disciples, who still don't quite seem to understand Who this man is that they're following.

As if almost any interesting teacher can turn five loaves of bread and two fish into enough to feed five thousand men with 12 baskets of food leftover.

You know, they see that every day, which is why it's such a shock to see a man walking on water. Because there's something that can't be explained (I mean, I know it's shocking - but what make it the final straw, really?).

Seriously, guys?

So, after he feeds the four thousand, the Pharisees approach him demanding "a sign" - an undeniable indication that He has actually come from Heaven - because all these other party tricks - healing lepers, casting out demons, feeding multitudes, raising the dead - anyone could do that. Well, Jesus isn't about proving Himself to the eyes - He's interested in a heart-deep understanding. And if hearing what He has to say has no effect on their understanding of Him, seeing what He can do won't do much for them either. So He denies their request.

Later, in the boat with His disciples, He warns them of "the leaven of the Pharisees and the leaven of Herod." To which they respond in their eloquent wisdom by arguing with each other over the last loaf of bread - because Heaven knows there's not enough to feed those 13 men on that one boat. 

In fact, Heaven does know exactly how much bread they have. And Heaven knows they just watched this man they're following feed a total of nine thousand men with a grand total of twelve loaves of bread and they still don't get it. They still don't get, as my ESV study notes put it, that this man in the boat with them is "none other than the eternal creator and giver of life." 

They still think He's talking about food.

And they still don't get that if it's the food they're worried about, He'll always be able to provide for it. He is always willing and able to provide for the physical needs.

But His priority, as He proves time and again - not the least of which in feeding these throngs of people through a miracle rather than sending them away so they can all be sustained with nutrients and rest, seeing that the sustenance they need can only be found in His presence, in His words - His priority is to meet the spiritual needs of the people.

And what Jesus is warning them against in speaking of the leaven of Pharisees and Herod, is about taking to heart the worldly wisdom of even "religious" leaders and kings. The puffed up teachings about the outward life that do little to sustain true life. 

Do we hear that warning?

Do we truly understand that God is so much more concerned with what goes into our hearts than what goes into our bodies?

Do our prayers reflect His priorities? Or how much of what we fall on our knees about pertains to our physical needs, comfort, safety? And, conversely, how much of what we take to His feet regards the spiritual needs of our friends, our family, our nation, our planet, ourselves? Does our ratio reflect His?

And in this culture of organic, un-processed, clean, trans-fat-free, non-GMO, no-artificial-sweetener obsession, how concerned are we, by comparison, by what is entering our hearts?

Because we gladly fill ourselves up with the puff of this world - what the news articles tell us, what the entertainment industry feeds us, what the blogs list for us - knowledge, knowledge, knowledge. Leaven, leaven, leaven. And while we're watching every morsel that enters our mouths we're missing the boatloads of trash that are entering our hearts.

And Jesus is saying, "Do you not yet understand?!"

Let our hardened hearts be softened to the true message He came to give. No amount of physical provision and outward change can ever satisfy what our hearts truly crave - the nearness of the eternal creator and giver of life.

Beware the leaven.

Of Peace in the Middle East

It is no secret that I have recently become enamored with the book of Colossians. What may be a bit of a "secret" is that, through this love and passion for the message of this book, God has prompted me to write a Bible Study on the four chapters of this powerful portion of Scripture. Now, what will become of this Study and who will actually get to read it is still unknown and, frankly, isn't the focus for me at the moment. What I know is that God has asked me to write, and so I do. It's up to Him what happens after that.

All that to say, I'm continually reviewing the lessons I've learned in recent months, holding dear and writing eagerly on the passages that spoke most to me, but then wondering what to do with the stuff "in between." While I prayed this morning over what there was to say, exactly, about Colossians 1:5b-8, He suddenly called to mind what struck me most when I was reading through this passage in the fall. Something which, in light of current events, is still striking me.

In Colossians 1:5b-6, Paul writes, "Of this [referring to the hope for believers that is laid up in heaven] you have heard before in the word of the truth, the gospel, which has come to you, as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and growing - as it also does among you, since the day you heard it and understood the grace of God in truth . . ."

All of this sounds pretty standard, right? He's encouraging believers in a growing little church in Colossae and reminding them this gospel that came to them has gone into the "whole world" where it is bearing fruit and growing.

I'm smiling now, because this is where my mind was blown a little.

Because, as one who sits in a comfortable chair in a warm sanctuary on Sunday mornings, organ playing, slides projected on the wall, just under the beautiful wooden cross to remind us all why we're there, I tend to separate my real world with the world of the Bible. Of course, I believe every word of it is true and this is an actual representation of History, but I'm really good at segmenting history history - like what we learn in schools or what relates to current events - from Bible history. As if they exist in two separate realms. And, as far as church history goes, it seems to feel like, yes, the New Testament church was our beginning, but then it jumps in my head from Paul to the English church, Martin Luther, etc. Sometimes it feels like that's where we began - this western church is our history.

But where was this New Testament church of Paul's day?

What was "the whole world." as far as Paul was concerned?

The footnotes on this passage from my ESV Bible Study say this: "It has now been roughly 30 years since Christ's death and resurrection and Pentecost. The gospel has indeed spread from Jerusalem into Syria, Asia Minor, Greece, Italy and likely into Egypt, North Africa, and Persia as well."

Notice, it went to Rome, yes, but it didn't just head to Europe, but to Africa and the Middle East. As anyone familiar with modern western missionary efforts will tell you, North Africa and the Middle East is considered the most dangerous region to take the gospel today.

And I consider, then, the spread of the early church and the faith of early believers and I ponder, is it any wonder, or any coincidence, that these are the locations now most known as the seat of Islam?

Is it any coincidence that this is where Satan first planted the seed of this religion which is now the biggest combatant against Christianity?

Is it any coincidence that this region has had such a multitude of hearts hardened against Christ's followers that one cannot even bring the gospel into the very place it originated without threat to one's own life?

But, then, we must also see the further truth of this realization. Communities of believers in the Middle East - Syria, Egypt, Turkey - were born and were bearing fruit and growing the gospel long before King James ever ordained a single translation of Scripture. Would it not stand to reason, if the word which was spread into all the world and continues to grow and change lives, was growing and changing lives in the Middle East in those days, that communities of believers that can trace their lineage back to the Colossian church, or the Ephesian church, or the Philippian church, might still exist?

That maybe, when the gospel was spread, only 30 years after the death of Christ, to Syria, that descendants of those early Syrian believers, who have passed the truth of their faith and the hope laid up for them in Heaven, from one generation to the next, might have managed to reject false teaching, holding fast to the teachings of Paul, who so adamantly warned against "plausible arguments" (Colossians 1:4) that may have deluded new Christ followers, and withheld the spread of the new religion sweeping their nations. Is it possible that, maybe, there are those in the Middle East who have never been swayed by the words of a false prophet, but continue to cling to the cross?

A good friend tells of a time he met a Middle Eastern believer and, awed by his belief, despite his nationality, he asked this believer when he and family came to faith in Christ. The answer he received was, "In Acts, chapter 2."

We tend to forget, as Western believers, that these nations which present such a threat to our lives and our peace, were the birth-place of who we are, as a church, and as the Body of Christ. Yes, it is well-known that Satan has very thoroughly seemed to have accomplished his mission in these regions. But that does not mean God is no longer at work there, as well. His Word continues to grow, spread and change lives, even with very little influence from western believers.

So, maybe, when so many live in terror of those fleeing for their lives from war-battered nations, it could be recognized that some of these that seek refuge are, in fact, believers, who flee for their lives because their blood is demanded from them because they cling to the blood of Christ. And these are not simply new believers, rejecting any sort of false religion they once held, because someone has managed to sufficiently risk their lives to get into the region so many are seeking to escape, but these may be well-established believers because there remains a rich history and heritage of Christ in the very places where the church was born.

Perhaps, armed with this knowledge, we can change our perspective on the Middle East and see what is truly happening - nations torn apart by the ancient battle between spiritual forces. Not because a false religion wins, but because Satan still feels threatened by what God started in these places two millenia ago.

Perhaps when we encounter, then, or hear of those who follow a false prophet we can see them not as enemies, but as those who have been deceived by the one who has been waging war against God himself almost since time began. And our hearts can break.

And maybe we can cry out on our knees for hearts to be turned back to the Father, rather than bodies turned away from our shores.

Let us not forget, there was once Peace born in the Middle East. And if God has not abandoned them, neither, then, shall we.

Of a Prayer for All Women this Mother's Day

I have been anticipating Mother's Day as a woman whose Love Language is gifts does these days - or one whose Love Language is gifts who has a husband that doesn't speak the same Language, and has a small budget with which to work, and four kids under the age of seven whose idea of a perfect gift for Mom is a My Little Pony DVD or a Supehero Matching Game - I'm keeping my expectations low. And trying really hard to keep my mouth shut in planning my own Special Day (it's not working too well).

But as I prepare my low expectations with secret wishes that they will be far exceeded, there are those who do not anticipate this Sunday at all. They dread it. They hate it. They maybe just want to sleep through it with the covers over their heads. They'll be the ones avoiding Social Media because those posts about everyone's perfect day - the breakfast in bed, the hand-drawn cards, or the spa gift certificates - will be too much to handle. Or those posts thanking Mom for all those years of hard work - those yank at hearts, too. Mother's Day, much like Valentine's Day is a sleeper holiday - one of those that seems to make it onto the calendar as an afterthought, meant to honor something beautiful while, in the end, creating unreal expectations and alienating those without.

As this Mother's Day approaches, I am praying.

For those in the trenches, wiping poopy bottoms, nursing in the night, sneaking chocolate in the closet, and facing endless piles of dirty laundry (or baskets of clean laundry that just can't get folded), I pray supernatural energy over you. I pray rest for the weary heart and renewed strength for the long days and short years ahead. He sees you.

For those waiting with the weight of empty arms, those who are mothers in their souls and are turning another month without the living embodiment of a dream, I pray supernatural peace over you. I pray for a satisfied soul whose desires are met, whether in expected or unimagined ways. I pray endurance. I pray for understanding companions to lift you up as you grow weary in anticipation. He sees you.

For those who have opened their arms to the child of another's womb, who have birthed a family in their hearts and created a home of acceptance to those who had none. I pray supernatural blessing over you. I pray your family will forge together with an unbreakable bond and that your welcoming heart would be filled to overflowing with the love you have allowed into your home. He sees you.

For those who wait beside machines this Mother's Day - machines that measure the life in your little one - not knowing what the future holds as you pray for a miracle. I pray a supernatural strength over you. I, too, pray for that miracle. I pray for a child who can come home into your loving arms and I pray peace over you as you wait for a day you are unsure will ever come. He sees you.

For those seeing the years fly by too fast while they seek to settle sibling squabbles, manage family schedules and still tackle that laundry, while creating a home of love and belonging. I pray supernatural wisdom over you. I pray for the ability to savor these waning hours, preserving the precious moments of the past and present, as you slip into the future. He sees you.

For those visiting their children where a mother never should, under a graven stone marking their small place of earth on this Earth, I pray supernatural comfort over you. I pray His arms would wrap around you in a way you've never known as His peace washes over you and you bathe in the beauty of your memories. He sees you.

For those preparing to send their babies into a world of wolves, wondering if they have prepared these little ones enough, wondering what you'll do with a home that feels a little emptier, I pray supernatural courage over you. I pray for a heart willing to let go, looking ahead to a brilliant future they will write for themselves. He sees them. He sees you.

For those waiting for the phone to ring or a card in the mail - who can't even handle including these in their low expectations. Those who feel forgotten by the ones whose hands they held and tears they wiped. I pray supernatural love over you. I pray you know your hard work has not been overlooked by the One in Heaven who formed those precious ones in the womb many years ago. He still sees you.

For those with a Momma on the other end of the phone, the one who held your hand and wiped your tears, those with a mother who prayed over you and listened to your stories. I pray supernatural understanding over you. I pray you would treasure what you have and see the ways you can model your life after hers as you wonder how she ever did it. He sees you.

For those whose hand to hold is now held in the Everlasting Arms, who are now left to wipe their own tears, of which there are many when they long to pick up that phone but have no one to call in those wee hours when life is heavy and they just need a listening ear. I pray supernatural belonging over you. I pray you would know and feel your home is not on this Earth and you have a Father in Heaven. I pray for another earthly soul, not to fill a void which cannot be filled, but to bridge the gaps, to be that listening ear or the voice on the other end of the line. He sees you.

For those who struggle to know the mother who birthed them, who feel a need for her, but don't feel her love, only her distance, whether physically, emotionally, or both. Those for whom the standard well-wishes of this day seem incomprehensible and empty. I pray supernatural guidance over you. I pray you, too, would feel your belonging in Heaven and would find a soul who can walk beside you, speak wisdom over you and be an example of loving motherhood where you had none. He sees you.

For all of us on Mother's Day, I pray for a moment in the arms of El Roi, the God Who Sees, as we are wrapped in His love, as we are grateful for his blessings, wherever they are found, as we mourn what we thought we would have and rejoice for what we do. Praise Him, for we are all fearfully and wonderfully made, prepared for the task at hand and loved with a light that shatters the darkness of this fallen world.

He sees you. He loves you.

Happy Mother's Day.

Of Our Enemy

Having been a Christian the majority of my life, I find it almost embarrassing to admit: I have only just begun to hate Satan.

Until this point I had only found him mildly annoying - like a bee buzzing in your ear that won't go away, or a mosquito caught extracting your blood who then leaves you with an obnoxious itch that lingers awhile.

I mean, I certainly didn't like the guy. He's the enemy of my Lord, so of course I'm not in his fan club, nor do I want anything to do with him. But I'd also fallen into the trap of otherwise dismissing him.

I had been told before, as a very true fact, that we, as Christians, tend to give Satan too much credit. He, as many would tell it, is the source for all the annoyances in life. When our mission trip flight is canceled, or we're stuck in traffic on the way to church, or our printer dies just when we need it to print the most important document we'll ever need (or, you know, a coupon, whatever). That's Satan. Oh, that pesky little devil. There are even moments, like when traveling and caught in a snow storm in a tiny little vehicle not meant for this kind of weather, we get so egotistical as to think, "Maybe Satan is trying to stop me from getting there because something important is going to happen." Because, of course, I'm so important that it's going to snow across three states and cause a 27 car pile-up on a different portion of road just because Satan wants to frustrate me. Unlikely. Plus, I'm not certain, but I'm not sure he can control the weather. He's not God.

Which, of course, is what this whole mess is about. He's so selfish. That pesky little devil.

But when I'm sitting across from a precious friend opening for me the depths of her soul and the struggles of her flesh, and I am recognizing that these conclusions to which she has come are the direct result of lies whispered in her ear, I hate him. For the very first time, I hate him. I want to drop-kick his ugly face. About fifty-seven times in a row.

Because I've heard his lies before - the ones that say I'm not good enough, or I've failed, or no one truly cares. But those ones are generally pretty easy to pick out. They are so contrary to what I have been told, by people and by God, that, though they mess with me for a moment, or a day, or even a week, I can eventually weed them out and overcome them with Truth.

But when he takes the God-given gifts and attributes given to a beautiful sister - characteristics made to show the very essence of our Creator - and twists them for his purposes, causing doubt and confusion, the kind that wreaks havoc to the very soul and the kind that has turned an entire culture in the complete opposite direction of who they were made to be and how they were made to view a love like no other, the very unconditional love of an all-powerful God, that plain pisses me off (excuse my Baptist-girl version of language, but this is what happens when I'm angry).

And I can hear her words and see a light shed on controversy that has shattered our culture, is changing our laws and has left everyone questioning what we have been told, both in church and out of it. It's all a lie. And Satan is so pleased with himself.

Because maybe he can't control the weather, but he can surely whisper into our ears. And a whisper that is a tiny portion of truth enshrouded in lies is infinitely more devastating than canceled flight, an empty ink cartridge or a slippery road with traction-less wheels.

Yet he has made us so comfortable in our annoyance that we barely even notice the buzz anymore. And we don't hate him. We dislike him. We bat him away. Sometimes we fear him. But we don't hate.

And an enemy we don't hate is an enemy we don't fight.

Annoyance makes us keep our distance. Fear can cripple and gives power to the one from whom we cower.

Hate drives us to action.

It makes us pick up that weapon and swing with all our might.

And we need to fight.

We need to fight not only for ourselves, but for our sister who struggles with who she was created to be and for our church who has been lulled to indifference.

And as we fight, we must remember always, "we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6:12).

People are not our enemy. Not even those who disagree with us or accuse us with the voices of darkness. We battle not with verbal attacks or empassioned diatribes, but on our knees, "with the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Ephesians 6:17). And we fight as though this is a life or death battle, not for our own lives, but for those of our sisters and brothers, as well as those who are not yet protected by the shield of faith or the helmet of salvation.

Let him hear your battle cry. And let him be the one to cower in fear.

Of Her Genuine Prayers

Philip and I have prayed with our kids every night before bedtime since the day they were born.  It's one thing I feel we actually get right in days fraught with failure.

However, while we regularly voice prayers over them, they do not typically speak their own.

There have been periods of time when one or the other or both of our older ones would repeat after us.

There have been times, recently, when they have frantically, excitedly, sputtered out a modified version of sissy's prayer, "A,B,C,D,E,F,G.  Thank you, God, for bedtime. Amen" (I often feel if they really thought about what they were saying, they would not be quite so grateful for bedtime, but we're still working on the sincerity issue).

The idea, then, of Micaiah speaking to God thoughts and gratitudes from her heart is a concept we're still waiting on.  We have heard maybe a handful of self-motivated conversations between her and God in her short four years.

So, tonight, when she began to pray on her own, without the alphabetical opening and without even mentioning "bedtime" in her list of gifts from him (maybe she's started to truly consider her words), my heart swelled.

"Thank you, God, for everything you made" - she's thankful for creation, and all of it, so incredibly sweet - "and for my friends and for my whole family" - glad to hear not only is she thankful for all of us, but she's decided to take the all-encompassing route, rather than the toddler-tendency to list each member individual - "and for the baby that came out of Mommy's tummy" - now I was truly grinning with my eyes clinched shut, apparently Joseph wasn't included in the "whole family" clause; also, she's never going to forget where he came from - "Amen."

It's the rarity of these moments that makes them so incredibly precious.  I love hearing the overflow of her heart.

1,000 Gifts:
979. Arms to hold me on a weepy Saturday
980. Baskets filled with bright green lettuce and brilliant red tomatoes
981. A squirrel skittering along the wire spanning the street
982. Fall leaves fluttering
983. A bright orange package shipped in the mail
984. Circus games on a warm fall morning
985. Hot dogs under the "big top"
986. A lazy Sunday afternoon, snuggled in bed, reading, holding kids and napping
987. Tabletop games, popcorn, and baseball on TV

Of Bedtime Prayers

Emmett lately has been saying our bed-time prayers for us by repeating after Daddy.  It's always so precious hearing his tiny, yet deep, voice vaguely copying the patterns of Daddy's vowel and consonant sounds, yet only rarely making out distinguishable words.

Tonight, though, was a little different.

Daddy: "Thank you for Emmett."
Emmett: "Dand oo Emmett."
Daddy: "And thank you for Micaiah."
Emmett: "Dand oo Emmett."
[giggles from Daddy and Mommy]
Daddy: "And thank you for Joey."
Emmett: "Dand oo Emmett."
[giggles now from Daddy, Mommy and Micaiah, and a grin from Emmett]
Daddy: "Thank you for Mommy."
Emmett: "Dand oo Mommy."
[Now I'm nearly cracking up, because clearly he knew the difference and just decided he was the only kid to be thankful for.]
Daddy: "And thank you for Daddy."
Emmett: "Dand oo Mommy."

Yes!  Clearly I'm the winner as Emmett has pronounced he and I as the two most important members of this family (or, rather, the two for which he gives the most thanks).  Best bed-time prayer ever (ok, I would have said that even without those last four lines).

1,000 Gifts:
25. Restoration for weary souls.
26. A re-kindled passion for our greatest blessings.
27. A new food the kids will eat.
28. A precious blanket, stitched with love, arriving in the mail for Baby Joey.
29. Our compost pile, contained by a fence hammered into the ground by my own husband (and his dad) - awaiting its time to feed our future gardens.
30. Beautiful fabrics pulled together into a cozy sling to cradle my little one.

Taking Time for Play: Silly Self-Portrait:  Joey and I tried a couple of different poses (ok, I did - his was pretty unchanging) - but his face in this one makes it the clear winner (even if it's the least silly of me).

Of Trusting

God has been using this Little One, from the day he/she was first discovered to be taking up residence in my belly, to teach me what it means to truly trust in Him.

Lately, the trusting has come in the form of waiting.

As every day goes by, I less bemoan the fact that there is still a baby inside and more dread the approaching 42 week mark - the point at which I will be sent for medical intervention, ie, an induction.

Now, I know that induction is not the worst possible scenario - I've been through the Pitocin process twice before.  But it has been the exact situation we planned a homebirth to avoid.  I've endured birth via Pitocin and it has been my greatest excitement for the past 7.5 months to envision a drug-free birth.  To experience non-drug-induced contractions and allow myself the freedom to find my body's best way to birth - to experience it the way God intended.  This has been our goal, my dream.

And, yet, the clock is now ticking.  With each passing day we are that much closer to being back in the hospital, hooked up to the machines, birthing this baby the hospital's way, rather than our own.  Sigh.

On top of simply not wanting to deal with the effects of Pitocin, I also severely dread what a hospital birth will mean for our budget.  It's not cheap and we've already paid our midwives - so to pay for both, well, I'd rather not talk about it.

So I have lived in fear and anxiety for the past couple of days knowing what's coming and praying, ever praying for my will to be done.

Yet, that's not the right response.  I know that.

Yesterday God broke me, emptied me, and filled me with peace.  He reminded me of this tough lesson of trust He has already been working in me.  To say I am trusting God in this situation does not (or should not) mean I am "trusting" Him to accomplish my desired outcome it should mean I am trusting Him to work all things together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28), even if they're not how I planned them.  It's trusting Him to know what is best - even if it means Pitocin, even if it means the hospital, even it means more bills.  It's trusting Him to provide, as He always has, when undesired outcomes mean undesired fees.

So I am trusting.  I am finding peace.  This baby may well come in the next week, all on its own.  This baby may well need to be coerced (and could I blame it?  I did the same to my mother when the hospital had to tell me to come out 25 days after I was supposed to).  Only God knows.

I have no power of my own to determine when or how this baby enters the world.  And even if I did, I would continue to trust.



Photo of the Day: As we headed out the door for my midwife appointment today, Micaiah repeatedly asked Emmett, "Emmett, do you want to give me a hug?"   To which he continually replied, "Ya!" and toddled to her waiting arms.  These two are simply the cutest.

Our God is Able

"Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen."- Ephesians 3:20-21

In December I was greatly blessed to attend a "Deeper Still" conference in Oklahoma City featuring the amazing teachings of both Beth Moore and Priscilla Shirer. Truly, these women are incredibly talented women of the Word who know how to give it to you straight.

That weekend Priscilla spoke on the above passage from Ephesians and her words have stuck with me to this day, nine months later, and struck me again this afternoon as I was continuing in prayer for Ella Dawn's life. I found more detailed notes of Priscilla's message here, but I wanted to share one of the highlights in this post.

She emphasized the phrase "abundantly beyond" - which in the New King James Version is translated "exceedingly abundantly above all" - and the fact that this phrase, literally translated becomes "beyond beyond" - meaning God doesn't just go a little beyond what we can imagine when we come to Him in prayer, but he goes "beyond beyond" - exceedingly abundantly beyond.

How amazing is that?!

So, right now, when my prayer life is almost completely engulfed in pleading for this baby girl's life, we have in the Scripture a description of a God, OUR God, who is able to go exceedingly abundantly beyond ALL we can ask. Meaning He has the power to not only grant Ella life on this Earth, but he has the power to take that further and grant her a completely healed heart, with no remnant of the damage with which she was born, to carry out a life that will be abundantly more than we ever dreamed to ask for.

That is the power our God has.

Now, I thoroughly understand that God ultimately knows what is best for Ella and that end may not be what we envision, but that does not mean our God is any less powerful.

What a mighty God we serve!

And on one final note, this is how that verse is interpreted in the Amplified Bible:

"Now to Him Who . . . is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams] . . . " - Ephesians 3:20

Yay, God :)

Wait, God, let me re-phrase that . . .

I tend to have a vision of God that's closer to resembling a maniacal, letter-of-the-law lawyer than a benevolent father. I've noticed when I pray, at times, I correct myself so as to clear up any ambiguity in my words - because, you know, it's not like God knows my heart (rolling my eyes at myself).

I can pinpoint a couple of different experiences in my life that have led to this image of a loophole-loving God. The first was in a church I have attended. The pastor of this church once mentioned in a sermon that he has learned to not pray for patience because it is not a magical fairy spell God simply grants. When we pray for patience, God will put us in situations that require patience. To this day I know people in that church that will quickly correct themselves when giving a prayer request for patience in a certain situation - "No, not patience - endurance!" I would find myself sneering inside when I heard that - and yet, I am not very different, am I? We tend to say we want to follow God and become more like Him, but not if that's going to cause any inconvenience or change for us, right? Why would we want to build patience? That requires waiting and, often, annoying situations that we would just rather not deal with. If that's what it takes, then nevermind, God, count us out on that one! (But sign me up for a bucket-ful of blessings, if you don't mind - please and thank you.)

I think, though, that the entire concept is mis-leading. God is not sitting up on His throne, just waiting for us to pray for patience so that He can cause us to be stuck in the slow checkout lane at Wal-Mart or behind that crazy old woman driver who doesn't understand that the gas pedal is what's needed to make the car go - at which point he will laugh and congratulate Himself on just how clever He is and how naive we are to pray such a prayer. He's not crafting unique ways to catch us on our requests. If He's going to work on building patience, we probably needed it. And, for the record, if we're asking for patience in a particular situation, He can and does grant it simply and quickly. I've experienced that, too.

I heard, also, a couple of years ago, a lecture from Steve Saint - the son of Nate Saint, one of five missionaries murdered by the Waodani tribe of Ecuador - wherein he discussed the sudden death of his daughter. While visiting home from college she had a horrible headache and so she asked her father to pray that her headache would go away. Steve did just that and hours later she died of a cerebral hemorrage. I do not think Steve's point was that his prayer caused his daughter to die, but that's what I took away from it anyway.

Thus, I find myself sitting with Baby Girl at 2 in the morning praying that she won't wake up again before 8 and then correcting my prayer to say that she will wake up next sometime between 8 and 9. I need to be more specific, you see, because somewhere deep inside I'm afraid God will take away my Baby Girl if I pray something that can at all be mis-interpreted.

It's a lesson, then, for me, to remember that God is not sitting on His throne waiting for the loophole in my prayer so he can say, "Haha, gotcha!" He's not that kind of God. He loves me and wants what's best, not just for me, but for all those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. So, yes, sometimes he doesn't answer my prayer in the way I expect, but that does not mean I worded something wrong or just wasn't being careful for what I wished. God has a plan and any ambiguity on my part cannot and will not mess it up.

Your good and perfect will be done, O Lord.