Talk About the Power of Prayer!

I don't know why I continue to be amazed at God's Providence and Provision but, silly mortal that I am, I sit slack-jawed time after time when God "comes through for me."  Selfish, finite way to look at it, I know, but sometimes when I pray, I feel as if I'm crossing my fingers or rollling the dice -- "I may get what I want; I may not." 

Truth is, prayer is never about what I want, and should never be.  As one who is committed to serving the Living God, my prayers should be petitions for God to work His Will in my life and the lives of those for whom I pray, and for us to be conformed to it.  Praying for those in Haiti, for instance, changes my heart to one of outreach, compassion, empathy for a country of complete strangers.  Praying for the mother who has lost her best friend, her children and her husband in one tragic turn of events, changes my heart to one that yearns for her to trust God implicitly throughout her tragedy, anticipates her recovery and the glory it will bring my Lord, and convicts my heart of its priorities.

My latest experience with prayer comes from praying for "justice," or at least what I have always been taught is justice -- "law," perhaps "The Law."  The morning I dressed in my "Righteous Garb," awaking early to pray things developed according to God's Will, I was left sitting, my voice unheard, my presence unnoticed.  At the end of the day, I could see God had settled it without requiring unnecessary anguish and guilt, and I tried very hard to convince myself that was enough.  It was very good, really, but in my heart of hearts, it was not enough; it left me fearful, uncertain, and closer to the fire I'd just escaped.  All along, I knew in my head there was so much more to this than what I could see, but I wanted to be able to feel that in my heart.  I knew it was not God's place to satisfy me; I knew there were so many sides to this issue that " the break" I was looking for could have eternal implications for someone else.  I prayed daily for God to change my heart.

An "innocuous" visit from an old acquaitance was a gracious gift from my Heavenly Father!  In no way was God obligated to me; it was my task to continue praying and supplicating myself to Him in order that my heart might be right with Him.  But this visitor, in her seemingly inane chit-chat revealed to me that perhaps, things were not as they seemed -- that God had handled this "situation" in such a non-invasive, positive, open-ended way that all was not "lost," as I had deemed.  As I sit back rehashing the details of our conversation, I see things falling into perfect place, my hope is renewed, and my heart is filled with joy!  I marvel once again, stupidly, at God's Providence, Wisdom and Grace, His desire to even see our human need and provide us with answers from His Hand!  I am ashamed at my inability to accept in my heart, what I knew was God's well-orchestrated plan, but overwhelmingly grateful at His Mercy in allowing me insight to it.  Prayer changes things; prayer changes me!

PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW!

Bittersweet

Yesterday my family and I went to Winterthur Museum in Delaware.  I had been there many times before as a "Homeschooler" when Steven and Christine were young.  The house is beautiful, and the galleries contain some amazing exhibits, but the highlights of our trips were always the Enchanted Gardens and the "Touch It" room.  My children romped in the fresh air of the gardens, and made new friends in the make-believe world of a General Store and hearthside cooking.  It was indulgence for me, as I received much needed rest, and giggled to myself as I covertly observed my children's interactions with others once they became immersed in play.                                                                                                                                                            Yesterday's trip was my first in about five or six years, and like many of the things I share with my "new family," was truly bittersweet.  Even Christine was feeling the pangs of nostalgia -- being there without her older brother, growing too tall for the Fairy Cottage.  There were so many things "wrong" with our life in those days, but so many things right -- we had each other and, despite the turns our lives have taken in the past couple of years, I believe we had love.  To stand there feeling as if a huge part of my life, a huge part of me was missing, sometimes brought tears to my eyes (providentially hidden by a sunny day's demand for sunglasses).  It was impossible to hear the laughter of Olivia, age 7, and Madison, age 9, and not recall Chrisitine and Steven at the very same ages running and playing across the same paths.

As we retraced the steps of ten years ago, however, we laid out new ones of our own.  We "explored" a part of the estate Christine and I had never visited.  I watched as Madison and Olivia experienced the magic of Winterthur for the first time.  Christine acted as guide and older sibling this time, showing her younger sisters the ropes and snapping pictures at every opportuniy.  I walked the Garden Path as I had many times before, but this time, as the children ran on ahead, I didn't walk it alone.

While boarding the shuttle bus at the end of the day, we agreed on ice cream for dinner and steak for dessert -- something Steven, Christine and I had done once before after a long outing.  But hearing Maddy and Olivia declare it was "the best day ever" was like hearing it for the first time -- it always is.   

Truer Words Were Never Spoken

In doing my morning devotions today, I came across this little verse at the end of Matthew 6.  Truth be told, it wasn't even the entire verse, but these eight little words:

"Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

Is this what I think it is?  "You've got your plate full without worrying about that?"  or "Don't worry about that; take care of this right now?"  How did I not see this before? 

First, I had to ask myself, "Is this really in the Bible?"  Instinctively I wanted to gravitate toward a more likely explanation -- like I had inadvertantly picked up a copy of "Mom's Maxims for 2010." 

Secondly, I checked commentaries, other versions, just to make sure this was really telling me what I thought it was telling me -- "Handle what I give you today."

Lastly, I wrote it down.  You might have thought this was the first time I'd ever picked up "The Good Book," or laid eyes on Matthew 6:34.  I'm sure I had read it at least a dozen times, maybe even memorized it in Sunday School or grade school, but it spoke to me as if new.  I'd heard these words, or some variation, so many times from my mother, and even said them myself, but this was revelation. 

To think that folks say the Bible is "out of date" or "irrelevant" for this day and age...  Our entire economy seems dependent upon fear.  Seatbelts, helmets, GPS devices, warning labels, drugs for anxiety...  I'm not saying all of these things are evil, but developers make millions of dollars every year working on the answers to "What if I get lost?" or "What if my child gets sick?" or "What's going to happen if...?"  I am a history nut, and I can't help but wonder sometimes what our ancestors would say to all of our hand sanitizers and 5-point safety harnesses.  Perhaps they had a much better relationship with tragedy and mortality, and were a lot less self-reliant than we are today.  Perhaps, like Matthew 6:34 commands, they were much more willing to admit they didn't know all the answers, and to leave tomorrow in the Hands of the One Who does. What would happen in today's society if prayer replaced worry? or faith replaced fear?  What would happen in my life?