desperate prayer ...

I write for my church's devotional guide called The Journey. The devotionals in The Journey coincide with that respective Sunday morning's teachings. I've decided to post some of my previously published pieces with you. This is the first.

It seems I have been fighting a lifelong battle with viewing God as one who punishes rather than one who disciplines; as a god of wrath rather than the God of Love. My view of him is largely an Old Testament view rather than a New Testament view. Because of this I find that my prayers are often forced, almost performance driven, attempts to impress a stranger with my holiness. What I want, and really what he wants too, is for us to come to him as a dearly loved child would come to his or her Daddy. He wants the focus of our prayers to be on communion with him and for our prayer life to be a time that we set aside daily to come into a very intimate and private place, to enter into his chambers so to speak.

Sacrifice was a large part of prayer in the Old Testament because Jesus had not yet come to offer himself as the final perfect sacrifice. God’s holiness required that sin not be ignored and that someone or something had to pay the price to remove the offense. This was done through the sacrificial offerings of lambs, usually the best of the flock. Often times there was a high-priest that would serve as a mediator and relay our prayers to God because man was too sinful to approach the holy God themselves. But this side of the cross of Jesus Christ we no longer need atonement because it has been provided for us, through the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ, God’s perfect son.

What I have learned is that I often don’t see God as he is: a deeply personal, loving Dad that cares for me, watches over me, and is a friend to me. When I see him this way my prayers reflect this shift and I can approach him with the humility, worship, and awe that he deserves, instead of trying to form my prayers before I pray them to make sure I have the words just right. And, further, when I see him as he is I am able to see me as I am; I am able to see me the way that he sees me: a treasure, a dearly loved child of God.

"You may pray for an hour and still not pray. You may meet God for a moment and then be in touch with Him all day." --Fredrik Wisloff

Day 1
Read Luke 11:5-13, Luke 18:1-8
What point was Jesus trying to make in his stories on prayer in the Luke passages? What can we learn from the characters in these passages about approaching God and the posture of prayer?

Day 2
Read Romans 8:22-27
Verse 26 says that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us “with groans that words cannot express.” What images does this conjure for you? And in what ways does this provide comfort for you when you pray?

Day 3
Read Psalm 13
God doesn’t always present himself to us when we call for him. When have you called out for him and found that he did not present himself to you? What feelings did you have about that? When was a time that you felt God asking you to be persistent and faithful in your prayer for something? What was the result of your perseverance in pressing into that situation prayerfully and in faith that God would deliver?

Day 4
Read Mark 14:32-34
In Jesus’ dark hour of loneliness and sorrow that comes while awaiting death’s arrival, he needed the presence of his friends and for them to pray with him. Who do you have in your own life that you would gather around you to pray with you when faced with a great sorrow or trial? Who, also, do you circle around yourself when others are faced with grief or despair?

Day 5
Read Matthew 7:7-12
What can we expect when we pray? Why does the Matthew text not mean that we will receive everything we ask for?

Further reading: Prayer by Richard Foster; chapter 5 of Discipleship Essentials by Greg Ogden

entitlement...

One of the things I have been struggling with lately is entitlement, feeling like I am entitled to things that others have or just that I am entitled to things period. For example, this year at graduation the valedictorian received a plaque and I caught myself thinking, I didn't get a plaque last year and I got a 4.0. He didn't even get a 4.0 and he got a plaque? Why didn't I get one? It's ugly and it's a part of me that I despise, like a cancer that I want cut out of me. I don't know why I feel this way, nor do I feel at all comfortable with it. And since I am being honest here, it's not really only a recent thing. It's been at the back of my mind and in the darkest caves of my heart for a while now.

I know that I am not entitled to anything, no one owes me anything. So why do I feel that way? And better yet, how do I stop feeling that way? Am I alone in this?

I feel as though I have had so many struggles and that I have endured about as many growing pains as I can take and I wonder to myself, What it would be like to just be normal? Normal like everyone else seems to be? It's not fair. And there I go with the entitlement thing again, like I am entitled to not struggle with things ever again. It's scary to me because to not struggle would be to stop growing and to stop growing, to me, is death or hell.

All of these things come up for me and they always leave me feeling unlovable, kind of like a monster. Now this, I know, is the devil's lies creating a stronghold in my life. Get thee away from me, Satan.

My dad has introduced me to a new method of prayer called centering prayer. It's communion with the Holy Spirit really. It makes prayer without ceasing come easier and being in the presence of God more constant and the fruits of the Spirit more evident and abundant. I have only tried it once and felt disappointed, like I did something wrong. But that was before I read about it instead of just following my dad's instruction. I am hoping that this form of prayer will cleanse me and that God's presence would be made real to me over time and that I will be freed from feelings of entitlement and feelings of being unlovable.

I have done a form of this type of prayer before, Lectio Divina, and have always enjoyed it and gotten much out of it. But I don't do it as often as I'd like. I don't pray as often as I'd like period. I am finding out that I am, in some ways, afraid of God and afraid of myself, of making a mistake while I pray. I have to do it just right, say just the right words, or God will ignore me, laugh at me, or strike me down or something. And if my mind wanders during prayer I think to myself, I must be a bad Christian. I can't even focus on praying without my mind wandering all over the place. Again, this, I know, is the devil's handiwork.

Satan cannot be present where God is present. I am really believing, present active participle believing, that God will continue to do a good work in me and that through these prayers I can come into a sweeter relationship with Christ. In some ways I worry that I have replaced a relationship with him with knowledge about him the last two years. I have learned so much in classes but have I learned too much? I am sure that it all isn't as bad as I make it out to be but it's a dangerous and risky thing to profess to be a Christian, to really knowing him, when really I know more about him than I know him personally. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone else besides me, if anyone else is reading this, but I suppose the only one it really matters to is me. And God.

I have often felt, thought, and experienced that when I go through struggles like this it's usually right before God uses me or does a great work in me. There's so much more to this story than what I can currently see. Again, I wonder what sort of tale I have fallen into.