Why Should I Pray?

In August, American moviegoers became familiar with the term "war room" as it exists in a spiritual sense; for years it's been known to me as a prayer closet. Mine weighs about two tons and gets about twenty-one miles to the gallon on the highway. A few years ago I began praying in the darkness and solitude of my morning commute. In the twenty minutes or so it takes me to get to work, I pray for friends, family, coworkers, family of friends, friends of friends, and even enemies. Someone once asked me, "Do you pray for your enemies?" I honestly answered, "I do." Prayer is not like rubbing a  genie's lamp; prayer may or may not change my situation; but prayer has definitely changed me -- especially praying for my enemies.

Anyway, I wasn't praying for my enemies this morning. I was praying for a couple I know and love very much. They are going through some difficulties, and I was praying for peace within their home. "Especially now that..." I found myself saying. The instant it started to leave my lips I realized I was almost saying, "At least now." As if God can't or won't for all seasons, and that He might just be able to, or concede to for a little while. Can't you just hear God saying, "Oh, ok, but I'm not sure how long I can keep this up!"? Yeah, me neither. God doesn't have to try at anything. For me to imply, "Hey, I'll cut You a little slack; I know it's a lot to do," is not only insulting but weak. What does a student who does mediocre work get?

But that wasn't enough, the Holy Spirit took me just a little farther in His conviction. "Are you praying for your friends, or are you praying for My glory?" Whoa.

(People who don't know God like to paint Him as some egomaniacal four year-old, throwing temper tantrums over those who dis Him. My take on that is: create even a star from scratch, then we'll talk. God is worthy of all our praise, of all we can give Him. A point of irony is, without Him we truly have nothing to give.)

But let's get back to the question: Are you praying for your friends, or are you praying for My glory?

James 5:16 says, "Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results."

So, that's what I should be doing, right? Yes, but. We are to pray for one another; God instilled in us empathy and compassion. Those things motivate us to pray. The more we begin to love Jesus, the more we love others. Jesus commanded us to pray for others. Our love for Him motivates us to obedience and imitation; obedience and imitation motivate us to pray for others. But what would God have as our greatest motivation for all we do? A desire to see Him glorified.

Watch this. Do I desire relief from financial burden? Great, but may it ultimately be for the purpose of advancing the Kingdom and bringing glory to God. If that is my motivation, I can just as easily thank God for -- even pray for, poverty! Do I desire peace and wellness for my friends? Who wouldn't? But may my deepest motivation be the glory of my Lord! If this is the case, I can obediently pray for my enemies -- even rejoice(!) when they are blessed. Rejoicing from the depths of my heart! Imagine that!

I'll keep that in mind the next time I throw my prayer closet in gear.

I Didn't Sign Up for This!

Marriage changes things. Specifically, people. When I was in my twenties any couple dating more than three months felt the pressure: ask the girl, flaunt the ring, set a date. Friends couldn't wait until the next wedding. Where was it going to be? Who would be in it? It was all about the party. Shortly thereafter, reality set in. The new groom didn't hang out with his friends any more; of course, it was her fault. The new bride stopped talking about fashion, and occupied her time clipping coupons and planning meals instead. Of course, that was her fault. It wasn't long after that there was talk of kids and minivans; time to buy a house or work harder for that promotion; put a little extra into your 401K. The carefree kids that shyly introduced their date to "the rest of the gang," met for football every Thanksgiving morning, worked on cars in the driveway, killed weekends driving just "to see where this road goes," or held "keggers" the instant Mom and Dad left for the weekend, had committed the worst of offenses against youth: they'd begun to grow up. Their last moments of youth had been extinguished on the paint-veiled cement "dance floor" of the local fire hall. Marriage changed them.

My husband and I have been married almost eight years; we have five children and somewhere around thirty-five years of marriage experience between us. And as I prepared this week, to go away for a couple days, it dawned on me: marriage changes things. Specifically people.

When I met Scott, he was a single dad trying to spend as much time as possible with his children. His job took him away for days on end, but when he had his children, it was all about them. He would cook for them. They rented movies together. He would take them four-by-fouring in the woods. He showered them, changed them, dressed them. He was "hands-on" in every sense of the word. Impressive. Fast forward to this point in our life. Outside of the obligatory expletives directed at FiOS for not having the movie he wanted or charging too much for the movie he wanted, he still remains pretty competent at renting movies. The children shower and dress themselves now, and thankfully, no longer require changing. We no longer own a suitable vehicle for woodland romps. But, I find myself inviting him to family activities I am responsible for organizing; and I must occasionally remind him about spending some time with the other people that share his home. His cooking is now a mere reheating of whatever I have prepared. And I tend to be not so impressed anymore. Please don't get me wrong: he is still a wonderful dad, and I love him deeply, but what happened to the guy who could actually open the pantry, find the peanut butter and make himself a sandwich? This guy I'm married to now peers into a fridge virtually spring-loaded with all manner of foods and grumbles, "There's nothing to eat." How did this happen?

I could speculate; say he got to comfortable, or I babied him too much. The truth of it is, marriage does change people. In today's society that's grounds for packing your bags and blowing Dodge. Why stay when "this" is not what you bargained for? Why stay when, only in name is this the same man you pledged your life and love to?

Sometimes, as a child, I'd try to play Checkers against myself. Playing against yourself is relatively easy, and you always know what to expect from your opponent -- no unpleasant surprises. But playing yourself is also unchallenging, dull, and a waste of time. What would marriage be like if your spouse remained exactly like she was fifteen years ago? That person you knew inside and out? No surprises. Unchallenging. Dull. A waste of time. After all, relationships are all about the people in them, and people change -- constantly. Good relationships are uncovering new ideas and dreams all the time. Good relationships keep us on our toes. Good relationships reach new goals, and reach new goals again. But reach them with another changing, growing person at your side.

Sure, I could pine for that impressive guy I met ten years ago. But I'd rather curl up next to the aging, sometimes comfortable -- maybe even a bit lazy -- guy I married, and rent a movie. Maybe one we've never seen before.

A Gift Under the Family Tree

In three hours I will be leaving for the weekend. I don't have a thing packed, nor have I even located my suitcase. It's not that I am not excited about going. But I am a wife and mother. Those of you who are wives and mothers need no further explanation, but for those of you who are not...

I have spent the last forty-eight hours shopping, cooking and cleaning so my home and those in it do not spontaneously combust; or slowly, painfully fall into ruin; or starve; or find themselves forced to roam buck naked through the township, or whatever it is wives and mothers seem to think will happen when they leave their homes for more than thirty-five minutes at a time. I do not think it is humanly possible to fit another thing in the freezer. (I have been remiss, however, in fully stocking the pantry, and I must run out for crackers some time before I leave.) There are approximately six items left in the hamper: the one lone sock that always seems to be searching for the perfect match, two dish towels, a cleaning cloth, and two pairs of underwear. (Do you think I should wash them up before I go?) The fridge, which now resembles some sort of timeline in Rubbermaid history and is probably threatening the weight restrictions on the joists below, is running at full tilt -- More power, Scotty! I'm givin' her all she's got, Cap'n!

Why? Why do we do this? Expectant mother's "nest." Mother's anticipating the visit of a child home from college cook as though their lives depended on it. Wives love to see their husbands sitting back, enjoying the fruits of their labors, or still strive to "impress him" with a clean house or home-cooked meal. Mom's still work to provide for their families even when they can't be present. I realize I may sound a bit archaic; I realize the feminist movement has changed the way we define roles; and I do not pretend to like cooking and cleaning all the time. But I think many of our behaviors are simply innate; designed by God, if you will, to keep our family units and our society functioning optimally.

The family is important to God. He invented it. And even allowed for life's twists. We've been studying the Book of Ruth in Sunday school. Naomi was a widow with two married sons. When her sons died, leaving their wives widows as well, Naomi urged her daughters-in-law to go back to their families in other countries. One daughter-in-law did; the other, Ruth, stayed with her mother-in-law. They became family, despite the bond that held them legally being broken by death. Turns out, Ruth remarried, but she and her new husband continued to love on and provide for Naomi.

I know exactly how Ruth felt. There are bonds that just cannot be broken. There are things we do that, no matter what society dictates, or those around us consider old-fashioned or passé, we do them out of love. We do them because of some sense of relationship. We do them because we love others, and they are family. And we give to them the best way we know how -- with our whole hearts.

Blessed Are Those with Imperfect Lives

Aren't people with great lives some of the most nauseating individuals you'd ever want to meet? People with great lives seem to be the weaker ones of us -- the ones who ask others to pray for their neighbor who just won't quit shooting the grass clippings to their side of the common drive; this is the most trying thing they've ever experienced. People with great lives seem to be the most judgmental -- "Did you see her daughter moved back in, with her three children; not one of them looks alike. Wonder if they're on welfare." People with great lives tend to smile funny -- that smile that says, "I'm so much more together than you, but I don't want to appear superior so I try to smile warmly but it doesn't go well with my face and just winds up looking creepy." (or something like that) People with great lives pay for their children's college, lease their automobiles (they call them "automobiles"), invite their attorneys to christenings and Thanksgiving dinner (and they call them "attorneys"), own teenie-tiny dogs (I have a theory about the size of your dog being inversely proportionate to the "greatness" of your life), shop at Whole Foods weekly, and vacation yearly (and I mean vacation vacation -- not just use the FREE TRIP offer from the time share company and coupons from birthday offers to six different email addresses). People with great lives have been married to the same person -- for years -- have never been on public assistance, cheated on their spouse, considered cheating on their spouse, or had a mentally ill parent. I am being facetious, of course, but everybody seems to be looking for the "perfect life" -- or, at least, a great one.

I don't have a "great" life by any stretch of the imagination. My life might be joyous and exhilarating, filled with love and adventure, but it is an ugly stretch of highway that gets us from one milestone to the next. We can't pay our bills; we are poor enough to be poor, but wealthy enough to be completely on our own. We struggle with relationships and dysfunctional mentalities; we make mistakes and, on occasion, completely, foolishly disregard the rules. We get sucker-punched with tragedy and bad news, and sometimes we step into the ring and ask for it. We couldn't care less about discussing the neighbors' drama -- we have enough of our own. Our adult children have more tattoos than we do. We have exes, and skeletons, and processed foods in our refrigerator; we go to high-end grocery stores just to eat free samples for lunch. We sell our vacation time at work and dip into the Christmas fund to make the next child support payment. We have frequent flier miles at the lab and more than one doctor who addresses me as "the problem child."

So, how does all this happen, this disparity between lives? Are some people just so naturally favored while others get the short end of the stick? Well, it's funny, because when I was in the process of a divorce ten years ago, I had nothing. Just a part-time job, no support coming in, legal fees going out, a mortgage, two children to feed -- it was rough. I knew how far you could stretch a loaf of Velveeta (the Aldi brand, not even the name-brand stuff) and a pack of hot dogs. But the folks at work were clueless. I mean about my situation, not the hot dogs. I became known as "the Princess," and apparently, was thought to be living this charmed life. When I began helping with our church's food ministry years later, I knew exactly what some of these moms were experiencing, but they looked at me with my designer clothes (Goodwill, and from years ago) and thought I couldn't possibly relate. Sure, disparity exists, but a lot of the time it exists in the purest sense, right between our ears.

I have this friend who appears to have never smoked, cussed, drank (drank? drunk? I'm terrible with that), or done an illegal substance in her life. She's not worldly or wealthy by any means, but she definitely appears to have it all together. Her clothing is Talbots, and her IQ is far above average. But this lady has dra-ma! And she's not creating it! She has been through more stuff than any one individual should have to endure in a lifetime, taking a lickin' and still tickin'. And it just might be the craziness, ugliness and chaos of an imperfect life that causes her to help others with the same kind of life. She helps unwed mothers, feeds folks at a mission, works with the addicted, and teaches English as a second language. She would do without to provide for someone else. She will wade through the seediest lives of the seediest individuals simply to bless them. This is not some ego trip; she's not out to single-handedly save the world. This wonderful lady sincerely wants to help others because she herself has been so blessed. 

Blessed?! "Didn't you just say she doesn't have a perfect life?" She doesn't. But the same way our perceptions cause us to judge others for what they have or have not endured, what they can or cannot overcome, our point of view reveals to us the benefits of having gone through some stuff. She knows she would not be the strong, compassionate person she is today, would not be able to help those she helps, would not appreciate the things she has and the life she lives were it not for the blessings of an imperfect life.