Prayerful Ramblings

I’ve recently realized something about my prayer life: It was born out of my “control issues.”

I know, weird.

And before I say more, I should probably explain that I consider my prayer life the most important and intimate part of my multi-faceted relationship with God. Like any relationship, there’s a lot to it. But the bread and butter of my relationship with God truly is prayer.

Prayer happens in a staged setting in my mind. I’ve joked before that it’s my own “Mind Palace” (for you Sherlock fans). It’s sort of fitting. In my mind, when I’m talking to God, I’m in the Tabernacle that is outlined in the book of Exodus where God met with His People. What’s most meaningful for me is that it’s the first place that God organized to regularly meet and be in relationship with the Israelites, and it traveled with them wherever they went in the desert.

The Tabernacle was portable, and so is my Mind Palace. The idea of praying with such a mechanism came from my father, who has his own place that he goes to talk to God. When I was in my early twenties, I did a bible study on the Tabernacle and it changed my life. I understood God so differently through that study about Moses and when I began to pray using my active mind to channel my imagination for the purposes of conceptualizing my relationship with God. I am less distracted (still happens) and more purposeful. I have a whole regimen that I go through that takes me eventually onto my face, at the feet of my Father, in the Holy Place—the innermost chamber of the Tabernacle.

IT’S AMAZING.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking lately about what prayer has become to me and how. There was a time when I felt like God asked me to be willing to accept the “gift” of “intercession.” I use quotes because first, there’s all kinds of controversy around the word “gift” as far as spiritual things go and I don’t care to dive into that. Second, I say “intercession” because, well, so far it has ended up looking nothing like what I thought. I’ll come back to that.

So, my prayer life—and consequently my spiritual life—took off in my early twenties. Incidentally, that’s when I left home for the first time in my life. I graduated college at 22 and couldn’t wait to get out the door and travel. And I did. And…in so doing my little homeschool-girl bubble got popped. I didn’t have the support system I always had in my family and, while I had a good handle on who I was (or wanted to be), one only learns how to actually make that interact with the world by living and erring. And both of those things I did too.

So, when I left home, compared to the stable (and incredibly blessed) upbringing I’d been given, my life spun out of control. I had to figure out how to be an adult and who I wanted to become. And in the end, I had chosen to leave 22 years of home behind me to do that….

So, I am…an oldest child. To a T (no pun intended), and everything that comes with it:

·      Perfectionist

·      Bossy

·      Academic

·      Perfectionist (oh, did I already say that one?)

·      CONTROLLING

It’s that last one that I don’t think I’ve really recognized in myself until recently. Here’s why:

Somehow, in God’s grace, I figured out years ago that when I couldn’t control things, I had to take it to God and ask Him to. Okay, I read that and it sounds cliché and I hate that. But what I mean is that, somehow, by the grace of God something in me knew that getting on my face was the healthiest way I could channel my desire to manipulate and control others and my life. I didn’t but I did want to control others and my life. I mean, I had it figured out. But by the grace of God something deep down in me viscerally knew it wasn’t possible and I had to try something else.

I’m really not exaggerating when I describe some of the seasons of life that taught me to PRAY as blood, sweat, and tears. It looked like so, so many tears. Many different carpet marks on my face, lots and lots of smoothies and mugs of broth while fasting and lots, and lots…and LOTS of filled journals. But, not surprisingly, for the last decade my experience has been that said blood, sweat, and tears is all well invested because what ends up happening more often than my circumstances or situation changing is—I change. If I’m praying, in earnest, for what Jesus told me to—that is that God’s Kingdom and God’s Economy would come here to this filthy, beautiful Earth and His Will be done here as it is in Heaven—whatever Heaven really looks like—then I truly change.

I start to see things differently. I start to want different things.

I start to want to get up early in the morning to spend time with God because I hate the way I feel the days that I don’t. I start to want to wait to make a decision instead of just plowing ahead and doing what I think is best. I start to see people differently, I start to see past ugly situations and start seeing a different realm of spirituality beyond. One that Redeems where it’s permitted to. And…well, sometimes that vantage point is incredibly confusing. But it’s always exciting.

I am a completely different person than I was a decade ago. I say that with trepidation knowing that, ironically, though I see all the amazing work God has done in me these last 10 years, I am now more aware of my humanity and weakness that I ever have been in all of my life. (In reality, some of that’s healthy and some of it isn’t—I’m still figuring that out. That’s a different blog post.)

But here’s where the real epiphany happened the other day. For so many years, as I would pray over situations and life, I would sometimes see situations change but I more often saw myself change (yes, already talked about this, see above). But this is the amazing thing: recently, I’m starting to see more of both. I think that means that for once, and maybe it’s me being so aware of my own weakness and raw humanity, I might be more in step. COULD IT BE?!?!?!?!? I’m starting to see Him work in circumstances in some incredible ways. Maybe I’m actually praying the things that God wants me to pray for His Kingdom and I’m starting to grasp “intercession” in the way He intended for me. (?!?!?!?!?!?!)

Maybe. Either that or I just have had a powerful couple of months, I don’t know. It’s not comfortable, certainly, because humility rarely is, but I have to say that it’s amazing what’s happening when I get out of God’s way and I just start asking Him what He’s doing and if I can help. It’s exciting-hard. Yep, it’s a (hyphenated) word now.

I don’t know how long this season will last because, like everything else in life, my pride seems to ebb and flow. For now, though:

God I ask that You’d continue to show me who I am and Who I’m not. I’m a mess right now, and I’m sitting in the middle of a lot of mess that I’m not sure how much I created. But, I see You moving. And I want to help if I can—and should. I’ll be here and I’ll be talking to You about what I see. Just glance my way every once in a while to remind me You haven’t forgotten that I’m here?

I’ll be here. Sorting through this mess and healing, trying not to rush the process and praying, praying, praying for Your timing not mine.

If the last 3 years have taught me anything it’s that You do way better work than I do. Let me get out of both of our way.