Tag Archives: prayer

Because sometimes you can’t do two things at once.

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A few weeks ago in our weekly staff meeting, our boss walked over to one of our staff members. He took a red marker and drew a line on Kelley’s arm. He said, “The artery is cut. What are you going to do.” I was sitting closest. I immediately put the palm of my hand on the red line. I put pressure on it. I kept that hand on his arm while someone else helped him lay down. I kept that hand on his arm while someone else “called” 911.  All I could do was keep my hand on the red line to stop the bleeding.

I don’t think I’ve talked to you about what I think it means to pray for someone, but that story is a perfect illustration.

I have this idea that “praying for” can mean “praying about” or “praying with” someone. So when someone says, “pray for me” they might mean “pray about this situation that I’m in.”  Or they might mean “pray with me and ask God to fix this because if we get enough people asking him, he’s bound to pay attention.”

However, I’ve got this idea that “praying for” might  mean “Would you talk to God because I can’t right now.”

It’s like, while I was holding my hand on the red line, I couldn’t make a call. But that didn’t mean that I was doing something wrong, it meant that I was engaged.

I said to Nancy late last week, “I’m looking forward to being able to pray again.” I wasn’t ignoring God. I was as aware of his presence and peace as I have ever been. But I didn’t have time for conversation. I was holding my hand on a red line to stop the bleeding. I had friends who were calling 911.

Way to listen

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(Paul Merrill writes here every First Friday.)

“My heart has heard you say, ‘Come and talk with me.’ And my heart responds, “Lord, I am coming.’ ” (Psalm 20:7)

That’s a great way to start a day. Or end a day.

David, the guy who wrote those words, preceded those thoughts by saying, “Hear me as I pray, O Lord. Be merciful and answer me!” So God did respond by asking David to sit down and talk. Then in the talking with God, David would get his answers.

How often are we willing to sit down and talk with God? Talk. Listen. (Not just talk.)

A great time to do that might be on your drive (or train ride) to work. Or on the plane to that next conference, when you just don’t feel like talking to the person next to you. God will listen, without complaining. He usually doesn’t talk till you are ready to listen to Him. That’s not always true. Sometimes He shouts at us when we won’t listen any other way. Often He will talk through events in our lives. The “wake up!” variety.

Sometimes we are in a place where God seems silent. It’s helpful to zip down to the end of that Psalm to see how David responded to that situation: “Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

Being patient can be really hard. Maybe it’s one of the hardest things we will face. But David urges us to be brave in the face of the unknown. Maybe you’re waiting on a job. Waiting on your daughter to choose her life direction, on trying for a baby or finding a life partner. Or waiting to see how you can make ends meet this month. Be brave. Wait. And talk to God. And listen.


Nonsensical peace

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God gives peace at moments that make no sense.

At times when by every right, everything emotionally should be cascading in, there can be peace. Not a denial, but an acknowledgment that yes, indeed, there is cancer, but God has a clue. Not a denial but an acknowledgment that yes, that casket holds the body of an infant daughter, but God is present.

Ah, but the peace doesn’t come because suddenly everything makes sense: “If I get cancer, then other people will understand that life is important and so my life, however short, will accomplish something.”

That kind of explaining would allow us to arrive at peace as a some rationalization of suffering. And I’m not sure that’s what Paul means when he writes,

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)

I know. We want a recipe. We want to know that we will understand why things are the way they are. And in these two sentences there is no promise of understanding. There is no promise that things will work out fine.

Instead, Paul says that our hearts and our minds, those things that churn and process and spin and struggle in the middle of pain and chaos and ambiguity and inadequacy, will be guarded.

I suppose that part of the guarding comes from inviting someone else into the discussion. Knowing that someone who is capable of acting on our behalf is aware of the problem gives peace. But sometimes, nonsensical peace, incomprehensible peace, is an evidence of God, offered to rational minds in danger of spinning out of control. But, says Paul, you gotta ask.

If it may please you.

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Yesterday morning I sent a sentence from the Bible to a friend.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight,  O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

It’s from Psalm 19. a prayer that David wrote out. I sent it to someone who was speaking somewhere yesterday. Then I thought, “I need to keep that in mind.”

So I tried.

It was challenging. There were moments in the day that went crazy. Several people asking questions, each before the previous question was answered or problem was solved. There were moments when I started to feel a bit cranky, a bit defensive. There were moments when I started wondering about the projects I wasn’t getting done, or the value of the ones I was working on. There was a stretch where nothing was working on one of the extra projects that had been added to my day.

But I kept coming back to that sentence, saying it out loud, considering it in my heart.

  • Sometimes, I was looking for affirmation from God, the way I show a boss how I’m doing a project: “Would you let me know if this is going the way you want?”
  • Sometimes, I was wanting to get thoughts and words because, following a short sleep the previous night, my capacity to meditate (to reflect and ponder and consider and chew) was negligible.
  • Sometimes, I was making an offering, kind of like writing a poem or a post and giving it with a “here’s what I’m thinking. I hope you like it.”

As I neared the end of the day, with only a bit more writing and teaching to do, I realized that I had spent much time in conscious conversation with God.

I think the prayer was answered.

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For more on reflective scripture reading and prayer, see “the heart of lectio divina.“

too many words about

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You know what I’d love to give you? Some silence. I’d love to give you some time to stop and think and be still.

I’d love to give me that, too.

You are probably better than I am at stopping. Me? When I sit down to be still, it allows me to remember the things that aren’t done. It allows me to think about what I could be doing with this time. It allows me to fill the time with chatter. Or with clutter. Or with activity.

I wonder if part of the problem with the way I try to be still. I try to concentrate. I try to be quiet. I try to stop, so that maybe I can hear God and hear myself.

Here’s what’s interesting, however. When I decide to spend time with Nancy, I don’t talk about the need to be still.  I don’t berate myself for my incapacity for not being with her. I don’t spend time not with her thinking I should be with her.

I go find her.

If I am having a hard time concentrating, I tell her. (And when I do, it usually comes as no surprise to her.) And I may ask her to help me remember something. And I may say, “can we walk and talk?” And I may say, “I’ll be back in 5 minutes.”

So here’s what I’m thinking. I’m thinking that maybe I should stop worrying so much about emptying my head and start working more on listening to and for Jesus. In the words of other people. In the words written for us by John and Matthew and others.

Maybe if I thought more about conversation with Him and less about being silent first, just like Nancy does, He would help with both.

Happy weekend, friends.

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Related post: A question of stopping

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