Russell A. Cardwell Online

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.

• November 20, 2005
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