coming out from under the guilt
For me, prayer has always been wrapped up in condemnation.
Not that it was a conscious thought, but it was always there… underlying my foundational beliefs about prayer. And about myself.
While I’ve never been one to pray for very long, my mom, on the other hand, was known for her hours-long prayer times. And in a way, it became a measure of spirituality in the brand of Christianity I was raised in.
A measure I fell very short of.
I’ve been made to feel like a “bad Christian” because of my prayer habits (or non-habits).
I’ve been told that I’m not spiritual enough because I don’t pray for long periods of time. (Along with my insufficient Scripture usage and lack of structured “quiet times”…)
Prayer became yet another area that I’m simply “not enough” in. The guilt always gave birth to shame in my failed attempts to try harder.
So it’s something I’ve had to realign my thinking on. And I find myself still needing to. Often. Because I still feel the weight of those lies.
I want depth and realness in my prayer life to stem from desire, not judgment.
I’m tired of trying to pray more/better/longer/eloquentlier because I’m “supposed to”. I’m done should-ing on myself, and I’m done with others should-ing on me too.
Because, let’s be honest… Guilt, disapproval, and judgment have only caused me to pray less, not more.
Ironic how condemnation works. Even when it’s self-inflicted.
I digress.
There is significant freedom in remembering that God created me as I am, on purpose.
He’s not surprised by my “oooooh! shiny!” tendencies when I’m talking to Him. He’s not baffled by my inability to sit still for extended periods of time. He’s not confused when I pray in short one-liners spread throughout the day.
He knows what I’m like. He’s the One who knit me together for God’s sake! (No blasphemy intended. He really did create me for His sake.)
And He hardwired me exactly as I am. Intentionally.
I think He loves when I relate to Him out of the uniqueness of my own DNA rather than out of some mass-produced version of how Christians “should” pray.
So today I’m choosing to shake off the shackles of should and supposed to. And I’m giving myself the freedom to discover how God wants to relate to me.
And how He created me to relate to Him.
Which is as individual and unparalleled as my fingerprint.
What are some of the unique ways you can relate to God?
Do you feel freedom to connect with Him like that?
thoughts from my dusty prayer closet
Praying has never been easy for me.
Not something you’d ever expect to hear from a missionary, I know. But it’s the truth. Praying is sometimes usually really hard.
So I don’t pray nearly as much as I “should”. Not as much as I want to, even. Or maybe not as much as I want to want to would be more accurate.
I get distracted really easily.
Midway through mentally writing my Target list, I’ll remember that I’d actually been praying.
Oh. Yeah.
So I shift back to prayer and, sure enough, my mind begins wandering again. Even if it starts with thoughts of the person or situation I’m praying for, my brain very quickly spiderwebs into countless random things. Until I remember—again!—that I was in the middle of praying.
Oh. Yeah.
Take 29.
I also can’t spend hours in prayer. I just can’t.
Many people can. And do. And actually love it. But not me. I’m simply not wired that way.
I’m more inclined to talk to God in bite-size conversations throughout the day than in one long official “prayer time”. Maybe it’s because I’m more do-er than be-er, more Martha than Mary. Maybe it’s because I can’t sit in one place very long. Or because I don’t feel like I have that much to say. Or because I struggle with structure. Or because of that whole “easily distracted” thing.
Maybe it’s a combination of all the above. And then some.
Whatever the reason(s), I don’t often pray for any great length of time.
But none of these “challenges” give me license not to pray.
They don’t let me off the hook from growing in this area.
I still need to spend more time praying than I currently do. I need to be intentional to stay focused in prayer. I need to ask, seek, and knock. I need to give thanks and make my requests known.
I still need to pour my heart out like water before the Lord. I just no longer need that to look like some Wonderbread version of a quality prayer life.
I simply need it to look like me connecting with Him.
I’m gonna unpack more thoughts on prayer
tomorrow. In the meantime, I’d love to hear
what prayer (honestly) looks like for you.
trust is a gamble
“Trusting anything – your family, your instincts, the dim-witted anchor on the 10:00 news – it’s all a gamble. With plenty of promises and no guarantees.
But I’m finding, the longer I live, no matter how often I fall on my face, that folding is for losers. That winners take hits. Call it going all in. Call it rolling the dice. Screw hedging your bets.
Bluff. Raise. Call. Stand.
Again and again and again.”
From the closing monologue in
In Plain Sight, S3 E10
STORY
I’m not very creative. I have no musical talent… All I’ve got as far as dancing goes is my white-girl-with-her-elbows-up signature move… And I couldn’t paint something worth paying for, no matter how I tried. (Although some “art” I’ve seen makes me think I might have half a chance…)
Seriously, I do not belong to the creative class. At all.
But I would love to be at the STORY conference in Chicago in September.
Because it looks that a-ma-zing.
The purpose of STORY is to fuel the Church’s artists, writers, and producers in communicating the Gospel message. Some of the best creative practitioners in both ministry and the marketplace will be speaking, from filmmakers and authors to actors and musicians.
STORY is a unique experience with main-stage-only sessions (no workshops or breakouts), and attendance is limited to just 500. It’s an intimate audience with some of this generation’s top creative minds. Attendees will have the opportunity to ask questions and dialogue with the presenters as they learn to engage people in the most compelling and effective way.
I love that!
And if that’s not enough, Carlos Whittaker will be there layin’ down some of his amazing jam’z.
(I sound straight-up ghetto, don’t I? Mm-hmm. I try.)
If you consider yourself a creative, you need to get to STORY. Let the creative-types at your church know about it too.
Because the greatest story ever told is worth telling well.
I’d love to hear about your creative
(or lack of creative) talent.
And while you’re at it,
drop some ghetto-talk on me, Boo.
four-minute friday: nyc
Go.
I’ve been sitting here trying to think of what I can four-minute about. And all I can think of is NYC. So I finally decided to go with that.
Because I’m going there today!
As a surprise gift, my sweet friend Tracee bought us bus tickets from DC to NYC for the day. I am soooooo excited!
Depending on how long you’ve been around The Grit, you may or may not know that I’m from New York. Long Island, to be exact. (Go Yankees!) And after 18 months back in the States from Africa, this will be my first visit back to NY. Thus, my outta-my-mind excitement.
Is it bad that in thinking through what I want to do with my less-than-twelve-hours in NYC, all I can think about is food?! Bagels… Pizza… My favorite Italian restaurant… A pretzel-cart pretzel… (Can you tell I like carbs!?) Mmmm…. My tummy will be full, that’s for sure.
And so will my heart. All day I’ll feel so loved by my friend Tracee who’s arranged this whole wonderful gift.
I know I will. Because my heart already feels full.
Done.
I’mma tweet through this whole whirlwind adventure,
so be sure to follow me on Twitter if you don’t already.
friendships lost
My heart hurts tonight for friends I’ve lost. And after spending hours looking at pictures, stalking websites, and wiping my tears, I’m hoping my heart will find solace with some words…
When my husband walked away, so did some friends.
Some, I think, simply didn’t know what to say, so they chose to say nothing. And they still say nothing.
Some, I think, felt uncomfortable because of their continued friendship with Niel. As if it had to be one or the other.
Some, I think, made assumptions rather than asked questions, So they passed judgments about me, my character, and my heart.
Some… I don’t know that I’ll ever understand what happened or why. They’re just… gone.
And it hurts. Deeply.
Tonight I let myself feel it. I let the tears come for friendships lost… For histories that seem to be washed away by futures that will never be… For not knowing if the missing is mutual… For what was… For what is…
Tonight I talked to God about it—about them—for maybe the first time. And I asked Him to help me trust Him with this, even though—or maybe, because—I don’t understand it.
Tonight I’m trying choosing to “rejoice with those who rejoice”. They all seem very happy, and I want to simply be happy with and for them.
Tonight my heart is letting go… And saying goodbye to those I never got a chance to.
And I pray I never stop loving. Stop letting people in. Stop trusting. Stop showing my heart.
Because I know love isn’t love if there’s no risk involved.
love without a red bow
I’ve gotta be honest… My heart is battle-weary.
Fifteen months after my husband left me and our ministry for another woman, I am just plain tired of everything being a fight. Every. Single. Thing. And I simply don’t have any fight left in me. I reached my breaking point this morning when yet another nasty email showed up in my inbox, and I had a good-ol-fashioned meltdown.
But in the midst of my tears, I became keenly aware of God’s messy love. I was reminded that His love isn’t always neatly wrapped with a red bow. In fact, it’s usually eyebrow-raising in its packaging. It’s often more gritty than glorious. He loves us recklessly, and it shows up in alarming and obscure ways.
Like in drops of blood streaming down a wooden cross.
God’s scandalous love is just as present here in my hurting as it will be in my healing. It’s in my brokenness as much as my wholeness, in my doubting as well as my faith. I just need to look for it. And expect to be caught off-guard by what it might look like.
A coffee date with a new friend this afternoon showed me a glimpse of God’s love in how He’s using my story—even as it’s still being written—to strengthen others. He’s making life out of my brokenness, using my ashes to create something beautiful.
And He’s not waiting until I’m “better” to start. He’s doing it right now, smack in the middle of my big hot mess. Even on a day when I threw my hands in the air and cried, “I’m done!”
My threadbare heart can’t miss the irrational love in that.
It’s messy and unreasonable… Just the way He likes it.
how He loves us…
I’ve shared before about the song How He Loves Us, and how God’s used it to carry me through this past year. I’ve spent hours—days—with that song on repeat, letting the words wash over my heart. According to iTunes, I’ve listened to it 343 times. And I know my heart could use dozens more…
My friend Lindsey has been doing a series on her blog about God’s incredible love for us, using that song as the backbone. She started by sharing the story behind the song (and if you haven’t seen that video yet, you definitely should). She’s had some incredible people share glimpses of God’s love as reflected in their own hearts and stories. Go lose yourself in the posts… There’s some really great stuff in there.
I have the privilege of blogging over at Lindsey’s today. The significance of that song to me personally makes it an even greater honor to be a part of this amazing series.
Teaser: I wrote about the adulterous woman. And how I am her.
Click here to read my post:
Even When I Deserve Stoning
fish and loaves
I’ve always loved the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000. It is packed full of nuggets for this heart of mine…
I’m challenged by the little boy who offered his meager lunch, confident that it would be worth something in Jesus’ hands.
I’m encouraged that the disciples’ lack of faith didn’t hinder God from doing something extraordinary.
I’m reminded that I’m only responsible for my response to the Lord’s promptings. I’m not responsible for actually making anything happen.
I’m thankful that Jesus didn’t feed the crowd just enough. He gave them “as much as they wanted”. What He offers me is always abundance.
I’m aware again that God doesn’t waste a thing. While I don’t know what Jesus did with the extras, there was definitely a purpose for them: “Gather the leftovers so nothing is wasted.” He redeems even what appears to be a total waste.
When I’m willing to place my mere fish-and-loaves life into Jesus’ hands, miracles happen… So today I choose to actively trust Him with the crumbs of just me...
in other news…
…I got my braces off!
Got any good news to share?
