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.

"There's Grace for That"

I don't know if I actually thought this or just hoped: that because it was so clear that I was supposed to go to law school, God would bless the whole thing and I would own it. I would finish the top of my class and leave law school knowing exactly where God was headed with my degree and it would all make sense.

He definitely blessed it, but none of the rest of that is true. I'm learning that we are good at convincing ourselves that we don't have "expectations" about something, but then as we live out the situation God brings to light what our expectations actually were. And it's a test of character how we handle that.

It's that test of character that I've been starting to finally process, after 3 years of hell. I look back on these last 3 years and I see a narrative in which every last one of my limitations was tested.

Every.

Last.

One.

I'm sitting on "this side of the law" (or, hopefully...I find out if I'm actually a lawyer on Thursday), thinking about a thing Jesus said. He didn't mean for it to apply to this situation at all, but it's funny that it does. He said, basically, that the law will tell you how human you are, and how much you fall short of what God created you to be.

He was speaking about legalism, of course. More specifically, the Old Testament law. But it kind of works here. Or should I write:

Here, it is applicable. I hear my law professor in my head "here 'comma'...'therefore'.... But that's the thing. Right now I'm stuck somewhere in between the "here, 'comma'" and the "therefore". Or am I? All I've got right now is "therefore, Jesus."

I have ADD. I pray my way to work every morning now asking God to help me focus on my work and do good work, that I might earn favor with my employer. Who is very good at his job.

I'm needy right now. More needy than I'm comfortable being. I had a friend yesterday remind me how good I am at pouring out and not getting poured into. He's right, usually. But I'm not really sure how to be right now that I have so little to pour out. I'm fully tapped.

I'm tapped and fearful that, now that I'm back in Alaska, if I'm not careful the mild Seasonal Affectedness Disorder that I usually get in the winter could look a lot worse this year.

I don't want to go back to that place.

And then there's this: I don't know what's next. Do I pursue law librarianship? Will I pass the FSOT again--could this be the break I need?

God knows I don't want to get bored. I can't. I won't be healthy. But God also knows that without some key relationships in my life, I'm not healthy either. Will I have to compromise on one of those? If so, which will it be? Interesting that none of these questions are really new.

What's new is how much more aware and acquainted I am with my own humanity. I'm learning to let God have grace for that, but I would be remiss to not see how God has powerfully humbled me in these last 3 years.

I know that others look at me and think I "did it". But I know the truth, and I'm not just being cliché. I look back and wonder how I made it, how all my requirements and assignments got done and how...

*Sigh*

...how in Rome I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and kept getting out of bed.

I can't forget all that. I randomly find myself just saying to Him "I trust You." Or "I trust You with ____." And who am I kidding, that's not naturally me. THAT is fruit of this last little educational jaunt. The one that was about far more than the formation of just my mind.

I'm grateful, really, for this place. It's not comfortable. It's a place where I'm second guessing everything I say, move I make, whether I'm acting in the Holy Spirit or my own and wondering just how badly I'm messing things up, but where I keep coming back to something I often hear my sister say: "there's grace for that." And I trust Him.

I am so, so human. I'm more aware of that now than ever. But I hear that's when He does his best work. Who knows what's next. I just know (for the moment--again, I'm human) that there's grace for it.

Pursuit and Reserves

I know that I need to write about it to help process and heal, but I don't know how to start talking about it in this forum. It's funny, I can speak more freely when I'm face to face with someone I trust, but this is harder. But I know I need to.

Depression is dark. And it's not something I could have intuitively understood about someone else, until I lived through it. It's complex. I read all these blogs and hear gratuitous advice from people about where depression comes from.

The truth is, at least for me, there wasn't one main thing that led to it. Sure, law school was a huge factor--and in a sense I was a statistic--but it was a lot more than that. I'm beginning to understand better now. Now that I've moved out of it.

That was more stress that I realized. That was more darkness than I realized. That took more out of me than I realized. Almost more than I had.

And now it's funny. I'm home and starting to find my place among my relationships here again. I haven't totally gotten there yet. But in that process I'm realizing something else.

I have always been the intentional one. I have been the one to pursue in relationships. To listen and to act when I feel like something's going on. I have always been the one to make the first move. And I have always been okay with that, too. Most others have been okay with that, truly.

But something happened that made me realize a pitfall of that when I was in my darker moments. Because I've always been the one to pursue, my friends didn't pursue me. I was "busy." I was in law school, so they didn't want to "bother" me. If I wasn't pursuing, I guess, then I didn't need.

But the fact was, that's exactly when I needed to be pursued. I wasn't okay. Some people saw that, but I received admonishment rather than compassion. I received a warning of selfishness rather than I genuine look in the eye and questioning what was really going on.

And now, bridges look burned to me. Maybe they're not, time will tell, but they look so damaged I'm not sure they can be crossed right now.

And I don't have the relational capital invested to move forward with healing. I haven't invested in it these last 3 years because I wasn't able. And I wasn't able to keep up the status quo of pursuit that I'd always maintained--so the relational capital depleted.

I don't know what to do with this realization. It sucks to ask to be pursued. It sucks to look at the people I love and tell them that I need them to invest in me too. That I'm not the rock they've always thought I am and that I need to be shown that I am loved too. That I matter enough in their lives that they will readjust for me.

I don't know. I don't know what this new season holds, or who this new season holds. I will invest, I just don't know where right now.

And I'm daring to pray to be invested in too. I have no more reserves, and I want to get that back.

Not sure what that looks like.

Cruciform Hermeneutic

I remember years ago, as (probably) a teenager I heard my pastor preach about how often we as humans tend to each interact with one part of the Trinity stronger than the others. And he went on to say that that a healthy spiritual walk would have a strong relationship with all three, and therefore a strong relationship with God as the whole Trinity.

Over time that sermon revolutionized the way I continued to interact with God. I was able to quickly identify the fact that, indeed, my “go to” in my walk was with God the Father. And then I began to listen to my sisters as they talked about their spiritual lives and their “time with Jesus”, etc. And I began to think.

Obviously, a warped view of God in any way was never His design for us. Arguably, we’ll always have it for as long as we’re living in this Murky Mirror of an existence, but that’s not the point. The point is the trajectory, moving toward a more whole picture of our Maker—and I don’t ever want to leave that trajectory.

So I began to pray. I began to pray I’d understand the Holy Spirit more. And not surprisingly, that process has never stopped. Seriously, I have been blown away at how my life has changed along with my understanding of the “Holy Spirit.” I thank God we started with the Holy Spirit, because now I see how key the Spirit is to the entire experience of God.

Let me stop here and say that I use the word experience because I actually mean relationship. But I often feel that the phrase “relationship with God”--at least within the "church" (I choose not to veer off onto my views on that word)--has become cliché and we’ve stopped really interacting with the actual reality of what those three words mean. So, in our “Christian” culture today, I think the word “experience” avoids said potential cliché and cuts to the heart of the fact that: God is an actual experience, He’s not just something “other” that “can’t be grasped” and therefore not to be interacted with too much. Don’t get me wrong, He’s actually the first two of those things. But it’s the interaction that’s the key, and so the Holy Spirit is the catalyst. That’s all I’m getting at.

For me, the first step was realizing what a disservice to, again, the “experience" of the Holy Spirit is the way the name treats it as a thing rather than a person. The name is a proper noun and then tags on a, forgive me, holy adjective. It doesn’t beg the understanding of a person when those words are uttered. Rather, it almost begs the conjuring of some enigma, and can be discouraging to even the most earnest spiritual pilgrim.

So, I gave the Spirit a name in my own walk. I couldn’t believe what that did for how I interacted with God.

And then we moved forward from there and we’re still figuring things out. I have an eternity’s worth of things to learn about just this aspect of God...but there’s an entire other part of the Trinity that I haven’t even mentioned yet.

Yeah, Jesus. 

I feel like the worst Christian in the world to admit that the person of Jesus in the Trinity is the part of God that I understand and connect with the least. It’s humbling to admit and it’s funny (and sometimes frustrating to me) because I’ve actually been praying for years, just like I did with the Holy Spirit, to understand Jesus better….

But you know what? Of course God wouldn’t answer that prayer the way that I would think He should. He answers it better. Process. 

In this case, that process looks like this: the longer I’m human I have more respect and awe for the deific person of Jesus. Being human is not for the faint of heart—but even they have to do it too. Doing this well is, dare I say, impossible. And He didn’t just do it well, "setting a curve"—actually He did it perfectly so He literally eliminated the possibility of a “curve.” The longer I'm human I appreciate the fact that Jesus understands in a visceral way what it means to live the human experience. There's no "okay, but you never did it Yourself, God." He created it, and then did it....so many thoughts on that, but I digress.

All of this is at the forefront of my mind as I’m reading a book called “Crucifixion of the Warrior God” which dares to tackle the daunting task of explaining how the violent pictures of God in the Old Testament actually bear witness to the deity, perfection, and the ultimate revelation of Jesus Christ to all of humanity.

If anyone is reading this, they may have had to read that last sentence again. Actually, so did I. But it’s syntactically and semantically correct.

So, it all hinges on a hermeneutic approach that has actually (seemingly) been a time-honored tradition in the theological world. Now, I’m no theologian so it’s taken me a long time to even wade through the first 100 pages of this tome (I may not even be that far), and I’m learning all kind of new (and Sweet Jesus: NON-legal!) vocabulary. But this approach is called the Cruciform Hermeneutic. 

The idea is to look at all of scripture through the lens of the cross, because the cross is the key to understanding how all of revelation up to that point was the continual effort of God to keep moving his people, humanity, forward to the point where His true design could be revealed, incarnate, in Jesus the person and He could then push us further forward into His perfect design to experience Him the way we were created, intended to.

It’s like Jesus is the language that the entire story of Humanity was written in, but we had to be fed the alphabet before we even had a chance at decoding the whole language. And yet the whole time God was (is) speaking Jesus but it sounded (still sounds) like babble to Humanity without the key to the language that is Jesus. If you don't have that key, you think that God is absolutely incoherent, insane, and even vindictive. But beautiful Free-will and Agency mandate that we must choose to decode if we really want to participate in all that we were created for. And it all looks so ridiculous--until it doesn't and it all clicks.

WHAT?!

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with god, and the Word was God. (John 1:1)

The Word decodes God, decodes all of Scripture, and decodes our entire purpose of existence. But if we read the story as a narrative without that key to the Language, we get a really odd, sometimes (if not often) terrible, dissonant story of God, the violent Master who finally calmed down and sent Jesus--but that was 2000 years ago...right?

Yeah, that's the way it looks without factoring in Jesus, they way He's meant to be read. In sum, at the risk of sounding as cliché as I was avoiding being earlier: I’m learning that Jesus is the center of it all, and the reason God even makes sense.

I’m sure there will be more to come on this. I’m not going to lie, I think I thought that my deepest revelations in relationship with Jesus the person would grow out of an emotional place first, not with my mind leading the way. But the funny thing is, I’m also learning more about myself in that my mind is the key to so much of me. And praise God He knows that about me (He made it so)—and He’s working with it. I’m learning how good theology is so, so foundational to a healthy relationship of God.

If you can’t see Him well, what are you experiencing anyway?