Category: Prayer

Christmas Day

Did you get everything you wanted?

Earlier this week I mentioned “unprayed answers.” I was introduced to this concept by a dear man of God. It has stuck with me and become a integral component of my relationship with God.

When this concept was presented it was linked to “The Confederate Soldier’s Prayer.”

No matter what you received this year…or didn’t receive…my prayer is that you will find this prayer true for you.

A CONFEDERATE SOLDIER’S PRAYER
Author Unknown,
(Attributed to a battle weary C.S.A soldier near the end of the war)

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve;
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things;
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy;
I was given poverty, that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have the praise of men;
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life;
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am among all men most richly blessed.

(I didn’t change the original wording…but rest assured when I pray it, the last line reads much more personally: I am among all most richly blessed.)

And amen!

Advent 24: Be Born In Us Today

This is just a little different from the traditionally way we sing this very familiar and special Christmas hymn.

Allow the freshness and simplicity to bring it’s truth home to you in a new way.

My prayer is that the Savior will truly be born in you today.

God bless.

Advent 17: Peace on Earth

Part of what set me up to make the poorest decisions in my life was buying into the lie of “peace at any price.” I learned, and quite painfully, that there is no such thing because it really is not peace and we pay way too high a price.

And yet I still believe in and crave peace. I avoid conflict whenever I can. But I am not a pacifist. I am a peacemaker.

When the angel chorus delivered their message to the shepherds, they sang of peace on earth. And the crowd heard a very different message than what God intended. They took it to mean an end to strife and hardship and oppressive rule.

God had something very different in mind. Paul tried to clear up the confusion in his letter to the church at Ephesus. He wrote: “For he himself is our peace, who made both groups into one, broke down the barrier of the dividing wall…that in Himself He might make the two into one new man, thus establishing peace.” (Ephesians 2:14, NASB.)

There were so many divisions between the people. The mission of Christmas is to heal those separations. God wanted peace not pieces. God wanted to bring his people back together and back to him.

Will you take some time to examine what divides your heart, what separates you from others, what keeps you from God.

His gift for you is peace: wholeness in life, not pieces formed by divisions.

Today I want to close with my favorite Christmas song and a prayer that God will heal the brokenness that divides so you will know peace.

No Temporary Solutions

I must be related to Abram and Sarai.

Think Old Testament…flannel graph…cut out story characters glued onto Popsicle sticks.

Just that one dimensional, predictable, and powerless.


This morning I printed out my resume, dutifully created and printed out a list of three solid and varied references, then headed over to a local temp agency. The one main difference between this agency and all the rest is that they employ individuals who have felony convictions.

I went with a smidgen of hope.

I left feeling stupid and hopeless.

Dear Employer, why do you ask for a resume and then ask me to fill out a novel length application? Just wondering?

The application booklet I began filling out did that very thing. It’s a frustration to me. We weren’t starting well.


I turned to the third page and began answering questions. With each I was given three choices and asked to circle one. I didn’t like the options. I wanted to add my own answers. For example: Do you prefer a job that is fast paced, moderate, or slow. Well, that depends…am I chasing chocolates like Lucy? I don’t want to stand around waiting for the next step. I want to be occupied, productive, but not chasing my tail. There was no option for this answer.

There was a question about supervision, whether I like to be micromanaged or left to my own. Well, that sort of depends on the job, too. My frustration was building. If I have a problem I want to be able to access a supervisor who can assist me in learning the job and doing it well. I need a supervisor who checks in and is encouraging. An “ata girl” goes a long for me.

Then there was a question about whether I preferred a job that was complicated…I can’t even remember the other choices because they weren’t the ones I would have chosen. I want a job that is challenging and that I enjoy. I guess that doesn’t really matter. Perhaps that is why America leads the world in job dissatisfaction.

When I apply for a job I want to talk to a recruiter. I want to be interviewed. Don’t stick me in a sterile office and then lock me into only three choices. Let me fill in the blank; tell you what I really want; what I really mean.

I was screaming all things in my head. I laid down my pen…actually it was one I borrowed from my husband. He must have used it at work (he works with graphite). My thumb, index finger and middle finger tips of my writing hand were quite black.

It made me laugh. First because it looked ridiculous (I quickly prayed I hadn’t touched my face), and then because I could hear him scolding me.


Why was I there? He had told me not to even start looking until after Christmas. I have plans to go visit my mom in Arizona for a couple weeks and my daughter was going to need me to watch the Red-haired Wonder Child over Christmas break. We would be ok financially until then.

But I felt like I should do something.

Sure God has a plan, but he will want me to do my part. Right?

Sitting there, I flipped through the rest of the application—ten more pages.

Nope. I wasn’t going to do it. I’m not sure how to describe it, but I knew with that to-the-bone kind of certainty this was not the avenue God wanted me to go down.

I closed the book. Put my things away and my coat on. I walked into the young woman’s office and told her: “Thank you very much, but this is not for me. I find your application redundant and the questions impersonal. I’m not interested in applying.” And I walked out. She seemed quite shocked as she accepted the application back.


I started talking to God as soon as I got in my car. That’s when Abram and Sarai came to mind. God told them what he was going to do. They felt like He took his time getting around to it, so they jumped in with their own solution. All one has to do is look at the troubles in the Middle East and realize that they stem directly from Abe and Sarai’s attempt to help God along to know that God doesn’t generally need our help to get things accomplished.

I have made enough bad choices. I don’t need any more negative consequences. I apologized to God for coming way too close to helping him out with his plan for me


NOW HEAR THIS!!! I am in NO WAYS saying that temp agencies are wrong, bad, or evil. On the contrary, I have encouraged people to utilize the services of these agencies whenever possible. They are great ways to get your foot in the door, create positive references, and acquire experience. Hooking up with a reputable agency can create a relationship that keeps the jobs and therefore the cash rolling in.

What I am saying is I realized I was trying to rush God and that’s a HUGE mistake.

God is never in a hurry. God is working even when you can’t see it or don’t feel it. His timing is perfect—trust Him! Wait on Him!

Jesus came in the fullness of time. When the time was “rightest.” Several times he reminded the disciples to keep quiet becuase the time wasn’t right for him.

Many times I’ve been befuddled by God’s timing. Foolishly I have lamented that God’s ways don’t always make sense. What I tend to forget is God’s ways are not my ways…or your ways—so of course they probably won’t make sense. We are finite, linear, and limited in our perspective. God is infinite, sovereign, omniscient. He really does know it all.

So I need to trust Him. I can trust Him.

Hard as it will be, there will be no temporary solutions to this long term problem.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Thinking About Pain…because it’s easier than feeling it

I have lived a relatively pain-free life. Until recently. I can remember about a year ago when I was sitting at a meal with friends and the person next to me asked what was wrong with my neck. She went on to say that I seemed to be moving stiffly. I was surprised because I hadn’t even noticed.

Fast forward about three months and I did start to notice some pain in my shoulder. I pretty much tried to ignore the aching because I feared that perhaps I had injured my rotator cuff and my mind was full of horror stories of painful surgeries and even more painful therapeutic recoveries.

Then about six weeks ago at a routine checkup I mentioned to my doc how the pain seemed to traveling down my arm, seizing the bicep and causing tingly itchiness all the way down to my hand. I was having trouble typing on the computer, which all but put a halt to my writing.

My doc sent me for an x-ray of my neck and the findings supported her suspicion and diagnosis of degenerative osteoarthritis of the C5 and C6. Welcome to the perpetual pain club that goes along with getting older. Take your ticket directly to physical therapy and make friends with your nsaid.


Then I got sick, so-much-pain-I-couldn’t-move sick. Seems I had a wicked strep infection that my body responded to with an interesting, but non-life-threatening, condition called ermythia nodosum. I ended seeing a dermatologist and having a biopsy and a rheumatologist and gaining a diagnosis of fibromyalgia, along with several other multi-syllabic scary medical words.

Yesterday I wore tennis shoes to work. I was a little nervous about it. I work ten hours and the longest I had shoes on for almost a month was about a three hour stretch. Other than soreness in my shoulder, I’m feeling pretty normal. I’m quite happy to report that I wore the shoes all through the day, right up to bedtime!


Normal. Just what is that? And what will it look like in the future? How does one learn to live with pain? I have watched my husband be in chronic pain for thirty years. I have seen him cycle in and out of major depression because of it. I have made excuses upon excuses for his moodiness and the dark cloud of pain that has hounded him for so long. I don’t want to let my pain control my moods. I have seen it try…I didn’t like the way I responded.


As I pondered this, my thoughts seemed to automatically go to Paul’s prayer for the thorn in his flesh to be removed. Paul: God, take this away. I can’t do everything you want me to do with this. Others will see this problem and focus on how you seem unable to remove it. That can’t be good PR for an al- powerful and lavishly gracious God.

And God says: No. Nope. Not going to do it. See, the more dependent upon me that you are, the more you will find that I am all you need and that I will give you just what you need, right when you need it. Not one minute before. And it will feel like I’m late, like I’m not paying attention. Do not give into that lie. See, here’s the thing when you come to the end of yourself, your answers, your strategies, your strength, I AM there. When you’ve come to the end yourself I AM. And I will be. I will be your strength. And I will be your joy.

On the first Sunday back to church in a month, I had the blessed opportunity to sing a duet with my pastor, a godly man with a wonderful tenor voice. We sang the old hymn, “Day by Day.” Words that went straight to my heart. Psalm 84:7 describes how the followers of God go from “strength to strength.” There is no gap, no space where His strength is not available to us. No space whatsoever. None. Day by day, every hour, moment by moment, the Lord himself is near me, with a special mercy for each hour. For you too.

My prayer is that when the pain is bad, and the heart is weary, that God will make His strength known, both in my head and my heart, my feelings…because that’s the place where the gap sometimes forms for me. When what I’m feeling hurts and screams louder than what I know to be true from God’s Word, I need to lean hard on the One bridges the gap.

Have pain? Need strength? Leaning hard?

The Message in the Silence

This morning my daughter posted this on Facebook: Why is it that your kids don’t seem to hear you unless your yelling at them, but then they give you that pouty face that makes you feel sick for having yelled at them so they’d finally listen?! Being a parent sucks!

I will admit that my first thought was to smile, thinking of all the yelling I did when she was my strong willed always right closed minded child. We raise them to be independent and have opinions. We just don’t realize that they’re going to develop those so early and with such strength.

Reading her post got me thinking about my own childhood. My mother wasn’t a yeller. That’s not to say she couldn’t—I received my share of loud scoldings. My mother had three other weapons in her arsenal that often left me wishing she was a yeller. First, she was the master (perhaps even the inventor) of “the look.” No word needed to be spoken; message received loud and clear: cease or die. What was most amazing to me was when she used it on other kids at stores or other public places and they got the message too!

The second tool that my mother relied on was action. We knew that mom would not hesitate to use whatever was at hand or just her hand to make her point. This resulted in my brother getting konked on the head the telephone receiver when was making too much noise while she was on the phone (phone calls were typically fewer and much more important back in the day). Hair brushes, yardsticks, and those stupid paddle ball paddles—looking back I now see why she was always willing to give into that childish indulgence as we checked out at the store. You think we might have put that together better.

But the most effective tool in my mother’s parental arsenal was silence. Silence typically conveyed one of two messages, both extreme. She was either extremely disappointed or so angry that if she said anything she would have exploded. This final weapon was so powerful that it always got our attention and resulted in our praying for the silence to end.

As I am writing this, I am on the mend from a very weird and pain-filled three weeks. I progressed from swollen feet to extremely swollen feet and ankles and pain while walking to nodules all over my legs and arms and in my joints (elbows, wrists, fingers, knees, ankles toes), to fevers and shakes. I’ve had so many blood tests, I feel like a pin cushion—the very nice woman in the outpatient check-in knows me by name. I had a punch biopsy. Standing was so painful. At times I admit I just melted into tears. And I just couldn’t shake the thought: what if this is as good as it gets? I believe in healing, but I know that God doesn’t remove every infirmity.

Now, I realize that my suffering was probably very light compared to others. But it was mine and for a relatively active and healthy person this was intense and scary. Perhaps the was the worst: not knowing what was going on and not knowing how long it would continue.

Getting quiet with God this morning, thinking about my daughter’s post and my pain, I found myself thinking about the times I cried out to God these past few weeks. I began to feel like Malachai: how long, God? Silence. I wanted to be angry, to decry what seemed so unfair. But I couldn’t. Because somewhere in the silence there was a drawing…a calling…a voice…trust me.

At first I thought my pain was God “screaming” at me, me the errant, disobedient child. Punishing. Then it seemed more like a “smack” of sorts to get my attention. But each of those fell short. All my experiences with the silent messages from my mother were good for one thing for sure: they taught me to listen, listen hard, and listen long—for the answer is always there in the silence. At least it has been for me.

But like I said, I appear to be on the upswing. Maybe that’s why Job didn’t curse God when his wife suggested it. She wasn’t evil, she just ached to watch him suffer, and was suffering herself. Hope dies hard. Even if the pain I was suffering was going to be my friend for the rest of the journey, I would have adapted…somehow. And I know that God would have been with me. That was the kind of answer that Malachi got. God let the prophet know that he wasn’t going to like the answer to his question because God was going to use his enemy to bring about His purpose. It was the same message for Jeremiah (read ALL of Jeremiah 29).

I don’t know how it goes for you, but I tend to struggle with trying to fix and control. Trust doesn’t always come easy, but I usually get there. Just like when I was a child. Just like when I dealt with my own children. Sometimes learning is hard, as my daughter is finding. Parenting, too. Just ask God.

Red Light Phobia

Recently at Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference, I had the pleasure of meeting a writer whose blog posts I’ve enjoyed for quite a while.
I was sitting in the main meeting room and turned around in my chair—and there she was. I walked back to where she was sitting and knelt down beside where she was sitting. All I was able to get out was, “Hi…” and she quickly spoke my name as if we were long-time friends just catching up after too long a separation. You could have knocked me over with a feather. It was one of the highlights of the week for me.


This morning I was reading one of her recent posts (http://loristanleyroeleveld.blogspot.com/2013/05/what-does-yellow-light-mean-lesson-from.html) and it stirred a few thoughts in me. (Take a few minutes to read it…if you don’t get back here, it’s ok! We can catch up later.)

Got you thinking, didn’t it? It did me. Here’s where I went…

If we have green light fever, it is fed by our red light phobia. This thought came to me as I considered Lori’s suggestion that the cure for our busyness is to slow down–to pay more attention to the yellow lights. (Love that youtube video, by the way.) While I’ve tended to put the passengers in my car a little closer to the windshield because a light turns yellow and I’m inclined to stop, most people seem to want to speed up to “make the light.” I believe this behavior is directly related to our intense dislike for stopping. We don’t dare slow down for fear that it might result in the wasted time spent stopped.

As I pondered this, I was reminded of my dear friend, Rita. nearly 30 years ago she was going through an extremely difficult time as she watched her marriage dissolving, and along with it, all her dreams. Many people counselled her to move on, but she felt God was calling her to a faithful stance. We decided the answers we needed were in the Word. I gave her a small NIV Bible I had. She carried it with her all the time in her car. Whenever she stopped at a red light, she would pick up the Bible and start reading. For a season, God brought healing to her relationship. She became one of the strongest testimonies to me of not fearing the red lights. Sometimes we have to do more than slow down. We have to be willing to stop. Perhaps that’s what is meant by the admonition in Psalm 46:10 to “Be still and know that I am God.” I still have the Bible that Rita read, and noted in. When I find myself in “down time” situations, I pull it out to find God’s word for me.

So have you been dashing through the yellow lights, trying to get ahead or keep from falling even farther behind? Are you afraid of the down times, the red light moments where you just have to stop?

Working with a ninety year old woman who has been slowly slipping away due to Alzheimer’s disease has helped me develop my appreciation for the down times. Actually, I find myself enjoying life more and treasuring each moment as the gift that it is. If I were allowed the privilege of going back in time I would want to take my perspective of time with me. There are a few more stories I’d like to read to my girls. A few more walks I’d like to take with my husband and my dogs. I would sit on the porch swing and enjoy it–not giving thought to the list of things that just had to be done.

As I thought about that more relaxed pace, images of people telling me to slow down came to mind. Several of them. Seems someone was always telling me that. Too bad I was moving too fast to listen. Wish I could let them know that I get it now. And I have. I may put that Bible in my car, too. Just to remind me to be thankful for the red lights!

He’s Outside the Box


Getting ready for Bible study/translation this morning, I was again caught in the prayer of Paul for the Philippians:

14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom every family[a] in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (Phil. 2:14-21, NIV)


Okay, here’s my quick thoughts on this: Paul is prayer seems to give the dimensions of a box. As I pondered this, I was rudely transported back to high school geometry class–the seedbed of so many nightmares. One positive thing I did gain from that class was the encouragement to consider the multi-dimensions of things: life isn’t one dimensional, flat. Paul seems to be trying to get the Philippians to realize this same thing about God.

No sooner has he drawn them a box, then he goes on to clearly point out how God is outside the box. There is no box that can contain him. He is the God who is exceedingly abundantly about all we could ask or imagine. Wow!

When my girls were little, they could spend hours playing in empty boxes, especially empty appliance boxes. My grandchildren must have inherited the same gene. There is so much that can be done with a box. So many worlds that one can create with a little imagination.

My girls outgrew playing in boxes. The same will probably happen with the grandkids. And that’s okay. Life is meant to be lived outside the refrigerator box.


God wants us to outgrow the childish boxes we may have kept in him, too. What would happen if you let him out of the box? How would your spiritual life change if you allowed him to be bigger than you’ve imagined him to be? How deep, high, and wide is your experience of his love?


I’m going to play–live–outside the box today. I’m not sure what it will look like…but I’m willing to look. How about you?

Sometimes God Says No


Someone posted this question on Twitter: Do you get mad when God doesn’t answer your prayers?

I have a problem with the question.

It seems to me that the question assumes that God is always supposed to give me what I want. That doesn’t seem very loving.
What kind of parent would I be if whenever my grandson told me he wanted chocolate chip cookies for dinner I always said go ahead, eat the whole bag? No, because I love him I provide him with nutritious meals that include protein, vegetables, and fruit—most of the time anyway.

When Jesus taught the disciples about prayer he told them this story: 9 “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! (Matthew 7:9-11, NIV)”

Could it be that this is where the misunderstanding comes from? We hear Jesus say that God is the best father, he won’t trick us. No, he will always give “good gifts” to those that ask him. And we presume that those gifts are the goodies that we want, not necessarily the “good things” that we need. I think we would do better to hold up Romans 8:28 alongside this if we want a truer picture of God’s provision.

I think we make a similar type of mistake when we read Psalm 37:4: “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” At face value, this verse seems to promise that God will give me the things I desire. Over time I have come to believe that verse is promising something much different than my wishes for a nicer house, car, or even weight loss. When we delight ourselves with God, he becomes the desire of our heart and he is abundantly willing to give more of himself to us. When my focus is on him, then he can place in my heart the things that I need to be pursuing, desiring.

I just don’t think God is sitting on his heavenly throne waiting to dote on us like spoiled grandchildren. I believe that sometimes God answers our prayers with a resounding and emphatic, “No.” I also think that sometimes he tells us, “Not yet, trust me.” But when it’s right and in line with his plan, then the answer is, “Yes.”

I was visiting my mom in Arizona and we were going through a little tourist trap buying gifts for family and friends. I saw a tea towel that had this saying printed on it: God always answers our prayers. Sometimes his answer is yes, other times it’s no, and occasionally not yet. But there are times when God looks down at us and responds to our prayers with, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” It was kind of like the cap above, but a little more feminine. It made me laugh, but it also made me think about some of the crazy things I’ve prayed for. The first thing that comes to mind was when our younger daughter had a sledding accident and severely broke her wrist. As I ran be with her, I prayed: “Please God, don’t let it be her left wrist (she’s left handed).” I stopped in my tracks as I realized the absurdity of the prayer. As if God was going to say, “Oh no, I broke the wrong one,” and switch the break to the other arm.

What I learned that day is that my heart and my head were on two different planes. All I really wanted was for my daughter to be safe, to be okay, and I lifted her situation to the only one who could truly get her through it. Thankfully, I believe the Spirit was my perfect translator. While her it was her left wrist that was broken, her time of need gave us a little extra time to bond. She had been struggling with independence and not needing Mom to be sticking her nose in all her business. The broken wrist meant she needed me again. I didn’t see that one coming, but God knew.

No matter how God chooses to answer my prayers, I totally believe that he who knows me best and loves me most will always give me exactly what I need. It may mean that I have to adapt my prayers to follow Jesus example in Gethsemene: this is what I want God, but nevertheless, your will be done. How could I ever get mad at that?

Wondering and Wandering: A Prayer for New Seeing

“Lord, the calendar calls for Christmas. We have traveled this way before. During this Advent season we would see what we have never seen before, accept what we have refused to think, and hear what we need to understand. Be with us in our goings that we may meet you in you coming. Astonish us until we sing “Glory!” and then enable us to live it out with love and peace. In the name of your Incarnate Word, even Jesus Christ. Amen. From The Unsettling Season by Donald J. Shelby

The world we live in refuses to be seen with old eyes, in olden ways. What once might have brought comfort, pales before the high speed gods and goddesses of this age.

The RHWC (red-haired wonder child) and I spent a lot of time cuddling this weekend. I think he was getting sick and I need to hold onto him. He is 6yrs old and turning 7 in a little over a month. Everytime I thought about one of those kids in CT, I wept. I have three grandchildren who just turned 7 or will turn 7 next month. They may be onery, and frustrate their mommies, but they are innocent and I cannot fathom anyone thinking they would need to die.

In addition to hugging, the RHWC and I had a conversation about God. He has only recently begun to be open to matters of faith. Before we started attending our current “turch” (that’s how he pronounces it), he pretty much refused to go. This was very disconcerting to us. We are people of faith and we have prayed long, hard, and often for our children, grandchildren–our families in general. The RHWC turned a corner when he started to develop friends at our “new” church.
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On Saturday evening, we were cutting out paper snowflakes, and the RHWC asked, “Mema, don’t you think it’s weird to believe in God? I mean how can we believe in something or someone we can’t see?” “Oh buddy,” I thought to myself, “that is the million dollar question.” So after a brief discussion of faith, he weary of waxing theologically, and decided to watch some TV instead. The yellow theologian, Spongebob, I believe…

So it has been a week. I’ve been fighting illness and fatigue…please excuse my absense. I did call the doctor’s office, but there must be a lot of sickness going around, because I still haven’t heard back.

I love the prayer we started this post with. It’s one I could easily say everyday. I pray that what astonishes you is the goodness and grace of God and not the seemingly overwhelming power of evil. I pray that not even illness, evil, or fatigue will keep you from seeing his wonder, or finding him in all your comings and goings. Amen.