Bigger than my prayer

God wants to do something bigger
than simply answer my prayers.
PAUL E. MILLER, A Praying Life

Do you ever ask for the same things over and over?

Better sleep and less pain are two of my repetitive prayers. But I wonder, if through my asking—regardless of the answer—is he changing me?

The act of praying draws God into my life
and begins to change me,
the pray-er, in subtle ways.

Is he shaping me through the “no” answer? Or at least the “not yet” one?

Is simply keeping up my end of the conversation doing more than I realize?

I often find that when God
doesn’t answer a prayer,
he wants to expose something in me.

I don’t know the answer yet.
Maybe enough time hasn’t passed.
Maybe I’m still in the middle of something.

Something bigger than the request itself.

Our prayers don’t exist in a world of their own.
We are in dialogue with a personal, divine Spirit
who wants to shape us as much as he wants to hear us.

For now, by faith I’ll keep asking him.
For later, by grace he’ll keep changing me.

Only a God as wise as ours can straighten us out as he untwists our gnarly questions.

I may not sleep again tonight, but as I lie awake, I can talk to him about it.

And as we talk, I’ll rest, knowing he is at work in me.

* * *

Have you seen God change you through your prayers?

Even if your body is tired…

I’m tired. Again.
Eyes close tight at 10:30 PM.
Open bright by 2:00 AM.

Are you tired, too?
Want more rest?

How can we find rest when days spill out of their boundaries? 

The journey to any rest starts in the heart.

If the heart ticks busy-busy-busy, the body—even flat in bed—finds no rest.

My long night presses in.
I press back with,

“My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning”
(Psalm 130:6).

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will abide in the shadow of the Almighty”
(Psalm 91:1).

“You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you”
(Isaiah 26:3).

In the night watches, His light is always on.
I dwell in His shadow.
And even in a tired body, my mind rests.

Eyes alert, but heart stilled.

Can we find rest even in fatigue?
Yes.
Soul-rest.

Physical tiredness tempts to whine complaints. Discontentment. But an emptied body doesn’t have to empty the soul with it.

Weariness and peace can coincide.
A tired body isn’t the worst fatigue; a tired soul is.

Keep your soul rested. Even if it takes waking in the middle of the night to recite his goodness, hear his singing, recall his grace.

Perhaps the body will move slower today,
                       but the heart will dream deep.

* * *

How do you keep a tired body from draining your soul?

RELATED:

• A midnight habit—Holy Leisure
• Rest through worship
• More...insomnia

A midnight habit

…My mouth will praise you with joyful lips, 
when I remember you upon my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night.
Psalm 63:5-6

I’m trying to start this new habit. Again.

Because I often wake up in the middle of the night—and stay wide awake—I like to redeem the time after the first option fails—be still and hope I’ll go back to sleep. And the second option proves worthless—wondering about things I can do nothing about. And the third option is too crazy—planning the details of the day ahead.

But when I’m smart enough to pursue a positive option, I read; I pray; I listen to lessons. (And now and again I wake up Jeff and talk. He says he doesn’t mind. ?)

And now—the new old option again—I meditate.

Well, it’s what I’m calling it anyway. I’m not sure what “meditate” means to you, but to me it means I slowly think about a verse or a progression of verses in my head, over and over.
     Seeking God in it.
     Pondering its meaning, its emotion.
     Discovering peace there in both body and soul.

Lately it’s been Psalm 145 (even though I’ve yet to get all the verses in order in the middle of the night). And Psalm 91, if the mind is clicking well. If not, I resort to the easy Psalm 23. Or the Lord’s Prayer.

I don’t do it as a trick to get God to return me to sleep—although if he chooses to give me that blessing, I’ll always accept it!—nor as a psychological technique of relaxation—but rather as a focused way of honoring Truth.

As much as I need him in the day, I also need him in the night, in the dark places, when the mind is prone to wander to uncertainties and brokenness and Satan’s lies.

It’s a gift of grace I want to accept, the Lord’s mouth to my ear.
A listening. When all is quiet. With no distractions. No schedules.
Just holy leisure.

A dependence.
     A communion.
          A delight. 

It’s a habit of attachment I want to keep.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.
Psalm 19:14

* * *

At Ann’s we’re prayerfully considering:
The Practice of Making a Habit

What works for you?
How and when do you quietly meditate on God’s word?

Rest is in worship

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my eyes won’t peep
But sleep won’t come; I’m still awake
I pray the Lord—don’t let me break

Every night I lie down.

I close my eyes.

But not every night do I sleep.
At some point, yes.
At all points, never. 

I can’t depend on my body knowing what to do at night.
My bones beg,
“Sleep! Sleep! Tomorrow is coming. Tomorrow is coming.”

But my mind says,
“I’m not finished with today yet. Let’s read. Let’s listen. Let’s watch. Let’s play.”

Being still physically doesn’t always equate with rest.
It’s not proven dependable for me.
I must search elsewhere.

Yesterday: The phone rings. The nurse does not “highly recommend” that we put our mom in the hospital immediately. She tells me it is so. “Your mom is on the way.”

No time to rest up. When the waters in the calm-before-the-storm are stirred, you move with them. Take a deep breath and plunge in.

I gather some books, her insurance cards, a snack. I switch to auto-pilot and drive. The path is too familiar now.

And I rest.
I rest?

I rest through worship.

I punch the CD knob. Aaron Shust immediately begins leading me in worship to Father. We’ve done this often enough. When he switches from “My Savior My God” to “Stand to Praise” to “In Your Name,” I don’t miss a beat either.

If there’s a sure-fire way to rest my soul, it’s by handing it over. Telling God how great He is. Saying whether I understand or not, I’ll trust. Affirming Him as my strength, my God, my King.

It’s how I “Be still and know” that He is God (Psalm 46:10).
Through worship.

To Him and in Him, I rest.

* * *

My Walks with Him

Comfort verses from Philippians—Friday’s Fave Five

Last Wednesday in Elliott’s class on Philippians, we read “comfort verses.” I’m still thinking about them today, and thanking God that he inspired Paul to write this wonderfully full letter.

It’s hard narrowing down to five, but these are a few of my favorites.

1. Celebrate, celebrate!

Rejoice in the Lord always;
again I will say, Rejoice.
                                                                                                                  ~ PHILIPPIANS 4:4

I finally made it back to both Sunday and Wednesday classes with the church this week. It was encouraging to be with other believers and celebrate our common faith.

The most wonderful blessings are in Him. That is something to rejoice about every day!

2. Peace beyond comprehension

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 
                                                                                                                 ~ PHILIPPIANS 4:7

I’m over-creative with “what-if’s.”

• What if the cancer comes back?
• What if I look like a boy with my short haircut?
• What if we get a new puppy and he barks all the time?
• What if she has to have surgery?
• What if I can’t be nice?
• What if I never conquer this sin of worry?

Well, it will still be okay. God is bigger. He trumps it all. Live strong.

If we give him our worries (Philippians 4:6-7), he’ll give us his peace. Sounds like a great deal to me!

3. Beautiful thoughts

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 
                                                                                                                 ~ PHILIPPIANS 4:8

When I’m tired or stressed, my mind naturally flows downward, to thoughts of, “I’ve been a horrible mother this week,” or “I wish I could do what *I* want to do all day!” So I need scriptures like Philippians 4:8 to remind me to think beautiful, godly thoughts, not selfish, negative ones.

4. Win/Win

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. 
                                                                                                                ~ PHILIPPIANS 1:21

I had a bad headache yesterday, and coupled with chronic back pain and lack of sleep, I look forward to a new body even more than normal. But even better than the promise of a new body after this one quits, is the promise to be with Christ in a fuller way. In the meantime, he lives with me even now, even in this body.

In Christ, we can’t lose. 

5. Strength to be content

I can do all things through him who strengthens me.
                                                                                                                ~ PHILIPPIANS 4:13

Content? Satisfied?

• Even if none of your jeans are comfortable?
• Even if you don’t take Spring Break next week?
• Even if your father just died and your mother has Alzheimer’s and you don’t know what to do next?

Yes! That’s what he says (Philippians 4:11-13). In any and every circumstance, he’ll strengthen me. I’m not fully there, but I’ve sampled it enough to believe the promise is true and to keep coming back for more.

* * *
So I trade in my confessions for his forgiveness,
and worldly lies for the Lord’s truths.
And I find comfort.

Do you have a favorite verse in Philippians?
What has brought you comfort this week?

For more Friday favorites, visit Susanne and friends.

I have no right—Psalm 103 (Memory Monday)

Learned last week:
15  As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field;
16  for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.
17  But the steadfast love of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children's children,
18  to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments.
Psalm 103:15-18

I don’t always remember to do what He says.
And sometimes, even when I do remember, I still don’t do it.

Why?
Because sometimes I feel entitled to my sarcasm or grumbling or self-centeredness. Maybe times are tough; sleep is short; worries are weighty.

Pathetic excuses, huh? Yeah, I know.
I’ve never earned a right to be sinful.
It’s impossible.

But neither have I earned a right to the steadfast love of the Lord.
That’s impossible, too.

I don’t understand it, but I know that his kindness towards me has no limits—not in space, not in time, not in substance. 

So I stand in awe of him.
And I long to follow his ways.
And I want to not only be aware of what he wants me to do, but to do it.

* * *

Learning this week:
19  The LORD has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all.
20  Bless the LORD, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word!
21  Bless the LORD, all his hosts, his ministers, who do his will!
22  Bless the LORD, all his works, in all places of his dominion. Bless the LORD, O my soul!
Psalm 103:19-22

* * *

Are you memorizing scripture this week? Join us at Joanne’s for Memory Monday.

The month of love: Remember to.

Beloved, let us love one another,
for love is from God,
and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.
1 John 4:7

February is the month of love.
I should know; I read it in a book.
Gretchen Rubin says so in The Happiness Project.

I’m loosely incorporating her resolutions into mine this year. And Gretchen says that February is the month to “Remember love.”

I’m so on top of it.
At 3:51 a.m. this morning,
to be precise.

I was still wide awake.
Trying to catch the seemingly über-creative thoughts that pirouette on my pillow in the middle of the night.

I know how. Write them down.

I turn on my lamp and grab my little red notebook and favorite pen (if only it had black ink instead of blue, but perhaps red would be more appropriate today—these are the kind of thoughts I’m talking about).

I whisper in Jeff’s ear (as if he wouldn’t figure this out on his own), “I keep thinking of things I need to write down, so I’m going to.”

He said, “I know. I love you. Write that down.”

So I did.
And it reminded me immediately that today is February, the month of love. As is January. And March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December.

So love God and love a human in a special way today.
Write it down if you must.
And tomorrow, repeat.

As goes the day, so goes the month, so goes the year, so goes the life.
And it’s the best life when you remember Love.

I should know; it’s the heartbeat of a Book I read.
Love Himself says so.

I’m glad He wrote it down.

6:00 – 7:00 a.m. (Nov 9 – Thanks)

It’s my magic hour.

Because my current “job” requires no commute, no dressing up, no clock-punching, no baby-feeding, I’m blessed to not have to use this hour anymore to take a shower and dress up and hit the traffic, or prod kids to get up and start the routine themselves to get out the door.

It’s simply bonus time. A freebie.

I usually stay in bed and read. Plan the day. Pray. Think. Sometimes write.

If I’m too sleepy to read, I listen to John Piper or somebody equally encouraging on my mp3. Or if I think there’s a chance of it, I try to sleep.

When 7:00 hits, my mind has to shift. To workouts and cooking breakfast and schoolwork and getting on with the day.

But until then, I enjoy the sweetness of first light with Abba Father.

It’s a gift. This time for this season. We’re each given different ones. Ones that match our needs. I know I am blessed with this one.

And I know Who to thank for it. Yahweh — He is most generous with the presents of His presence. Thank you, Lord.

The empty spaces

It’s a mystery.

How did my baby girl who held one pacifier between her teeth and another one in her hand, who woke up cheerily every morning composing songs in her crib, who loved books more than watching Bert and Ernie (and she loved Bert and Ernie)—how did that baby take empty boxes, pack 18 years of living into them, and drive away to independence?

So it happens. As it should. Our lives are full one minute, then emptied out the next. Roles change. People flow in, flow out.

But the moments in between—between the role of full-time mother to a sideline cheerleader, between the old and the new—those moments of emptiness are uncomfortable. We’re tempted to either ignore them or else fight against them. Sometimes Emptiness cooperates, winking at us, saying, “Okay...I’ll lay low, this time.”

Eventually, though, it wants more. Empty spaces crave our attention. They want us to sit down, get acquainted, and learn lessons. Such as: Humility. Perseverance. Risk-taking.

God whispers his truths to us in these quiet moments.

When my daughter moved, the empty space that opened up was sad, but it also held gifts. It threw out connecting lifelines with other college mothers. It unwrapped memories to laugh at. It invited wonder over the Miss Independent we had produced.

It taught me that flipping roles, while painful, was as important for me as it was for my daughter.

Other life changes have opened up empty spaces as well. Aches of the body have opened up sleepless nights. Could I have guessed how much I would miss sleep? A seemingly effortless nighttime activity. I took it for granted—until it deserted me.

The empty space it created has been slow to refill. But as surely as God gives us alertness, he also gives us rest. And in the empty space of desolate nights, I’ve learned to seek his rest in deeper ways.

As I negotiate new ways to deal with the loss, he fills up the hole with himself. Sometimes, it feels like enough. Other times, it doesn’t—but only because of my immature understanding of his fullness. I’m still growing to accommodate him.

But this much I do understand:
There is a gracious peace from accepting the in-between times of emptiness.

Without the empty spaces forced upon us from time to time, we would live too crowded. And we’d lose the gaps where new things settle in.

And I’d have missed all the exciting visits to Auburn to admire my almost-grown up baby girl.

What is God singing? Part 2

[In response to Donna's comment “What have you heard God singing in the months since you posted your question?”on What is God singing?”]

I‘ve almost slept through the night until an unexpected thunderstorm wakes me up a little before 4 a.m. I had been dreaming of flipping a light switch, but no light coming on.

As the thunderstorm intensifies, so does my alertness, the lightning breaking through the fragile veneer between asleep and awake.

The TV scrolls...
“The National Weather Service is tracking a strong thunderstorm 10 miles south of Madison, moving NE at 45 mph. This thunderstorm could intensify quickly... be ready to act if a warning is issued.”

Donna’s question breaks through. What has God been singing to me lately? That he is so strong; wait on him, not me. That while I should still prepare for both the next thunderstorm or the next beautiful day, in the end, even my most thorough preparations aren’t enough to save the day.

Only in his hand rests deliverance. He wakes me up; he puts me to sleep. At the right time, every time.

Prepare anyway, but trust him through the preparations. Act anyway, but trust him in the actions. He will warn me as needed, turning on enough light for me to see what he’s revealing. Regardless of the weather, regardless of the time. Waiting on him is always right.

It’s now 5:02 a.m. I still hear distant rumblings to the north, but this storm has passed me by, moving on to awaken someone else from their sleep. Calm has returned here. As it always does, eventually.

Psalm 27:14
"Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!"

* * *

While I'm Waiting
John Waller

[Listen]

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience
While I'm waiting
I will serve You
While I'm waiting
I will worship
While I'm waiting
I will not faint
I'll be running the race
Even while I wait

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait

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