music :: worship :: life
Lord, you have been present to me in surprising ways this week. You have reached out to me through people—people I was not expecting. People I have depended on to be your hands and feet have not been there for me, Lord. But you have showed up through people I did not expect. And you have been in places where I never thought to look for you. You have sent emails, phone calls, and visitors, Lord: People I have not heard from in ages, and did not expect to hear from. People I had forgotten or written off. People I did not even know. I suspect, Lord, that you are working behind the scenes, that you are positioning me to do some work in your kingdom. That you are lining up people and events so something mighty can soon take place. I have my suspicions.
Lord, you have shown me that there are well-meaning people in my life, who do care for the things that matter to me. I think that you are showing me that the things I strive for are not out of reach—but that the time is not right. I think you are showing me that the people I have been trying to build into a foundation are not foundation material. A structure built upon flawed foundation stones will not stand. The flawed stones belong in the walls where they can rely on each other’s strength to keep them from crumbling beneath the weight. They can support one another, there. But, the structure you are wanting me to build, calls for a strong foundation, of stones with a great deal more strength. I will need people with more perseverance, more commitment, more stability, more character.
But what about me, Lord? I, too, am flawed and broken. How can I be a foundation stone? How can I build anything for you? Why are you calling me?
Lord, I have doubted you; I have doubted your plan; I have doubted myself. I have been frustrated and angry. I have wondered again and again whether you really do have a plan to prosper me and not to harm me. It surely does not appear that way. My life is like that dead stump in the front yard—uprooted, tilted grotesquely, roots exposed to the cold, north wind. Lord, I feel like Christopher Columbus before things began to turn around, near the end of his rope, railing at you: “Lord I have grown old in your service. I have done everything you have asked. I have sacrificed everything for the mission you gave me. And never once have you showed the slightest inclination to help. What more can I do? Give me a sign. Either open the doors I need to enter, or turn me loose so I can get on with life.”
You have surrounded me with people who are very wounded, very damaged. When I expect them to act and react like whole and healthy men and women, I am expecting way too much. They are not whole, they are damaged—some of them badly so. They are not healthy, they are very ill and in need of healing.
Lord, you are teaching me to be like Christ. You are molding be in the imitation of Christ. I am your suffering servant, Lord. How did Jesus suffer? Vastly than this. But how much longer, how much more will it take, Lord, before you find me ready? How much more can I stand? How much more endurance and perseverance do you need to build into me?
Lord, what do you want from me? Lord, remove from me the things and people who are impediments to fulfilling your plan. Attached as I may be to them, if they stand in the way of your plan, remove them from my life. I dread even praying this prayer, because I know that some of the things and people you take away will hurt. It will be like pulling an infected tooth, leaving a painful socket behind. But, I am clinging too hard to what has already been spoiled, to what is no longer useful to you or to me. I have cluttered my life with things, people, and ideas that separate me from you. And whatever I cannot put down is holding me down. What I cannot leave behind, is blocking my way. I give it all to you, Lord.
Father, your presence in my life this week has been powerful—even overbearing, sometimes, and not always welcome. One thing you showed me is that I could give, and should give, and can afford to give much more—that I can tithe, and more than tithe. You were with me as I freed myself of piles of useless possessions that have been cluttering my life, holding me down, getting in my way. As I struggled with the disintegration of my plans for this past year, the same scripture showed up over and over again—in a book, in the sermon, in a DVD lecture, in an article online. Over and over again, the same scripture from Jeremiah 29:11:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Your plans are not my plans. Your plans cannot be squeezed into some arbitrary timetable set by me—this year or that year, by this month or that.
You were present when a woman stayed behind to talk about the baby she lost 24 years ago, and how the hurt never really goes away. I sensed your presence, too, through the kindness of friends, through their conversation, their emails, their phone calls.
I sensed your presence as I wrote checks to the Salvation Army and other charities—how strange to be filled with joy at giving away money.
Father, you have shown me, through the course I completed, that my mind is still sharp and capable. God, you have shown me so much—that I have so much. I compare myself with the people around me who have so much more than I. Of the people I know, I am surely the poorest. Yet I have so much more than I need.
Heavenly Father, I did not sense your presence this week, and I was disheartened. I missed your presence, Father, walking beside me. I felt abandoned and alone. But events Sunday showed me that You had gone on ahead, clearing a path for me. Father, forgive me for doubting your faithfulness.
Father, I believe you have been reminding me of my own resourcefulness. Thank you for giving me the perseverance to carry on in your work even when I don’t sense you near. Like the parable, you entrusted me with talents to use in your service. Sometimes you simply say, “Do what you can with these, while you wait for my return. I have faith in you, my child.” Thank you, Father. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you, so much.
Father, I confess to holding on to things that are unworthy of me. Keep me from clinging to things, vices, attitudes, and ideas that burden me in my walk with you. Father, rid me of impure thoughts and deeds. Free me from the sins of pride and envy, of lust and anger and greed and sloth. Eliminate the resentments and all the dark shadows in my heart that shut me off from the sunlight of your Spirit.
Father, I believe you are teaching me to trust in you even when I don’t feel you near. I believe you are saying, “I have rewards for you, my good and faithful servant. But it’s up to you to stay the course while I have gone on ahead.” You want me to keep pushing your work forward on my own while I wait for further instructions. You want me to persevere in your service. And I rejoice in the trust you place in me.
Father, I submit myself again to you with joy. I fall down before you in thankfulness and adoration, Please forgive me for all my sins, and please allow me to continue to serve you. I am honored beyond words by your love and faithfulness to me. Amen.
A definition of the Four Strand Garland and a description of how I use it can be found on the following page: What is the Four Strand Garland?
[powered by WordPress.]
38 queries. 7.215 seconds
