A Liturgy For Those Who Are Wandering

We all know someone in this season of life who is wandering away from the faith, or roaming within it, distracted by other loves, struggling with circumstances, encumbered by baggage, or well you know, just too busy to bother with God anymore.  But this is not the time for us to abandon ship. We need not stand by the ship's railings helpless without a life preserver to throw out to them. We can care for them as best as we are able. And we can pray for them all we can, even when we feel like we cannot breathe.  

Praying something far deeper than, "O God, be with them."  

The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.  James 5. 16  

Praying that every verse of Scripture they've ever read or memorized will come to mind.  From every worship service ever attended, even boring sermons they've endured, the indelible hope of Jesus is even now engraved in their souls.  Let every song, lyric and tune they've sung or hummed burst out of the shadowy silence, replaying in a continual loop over and over, the notes, rhythm and words, stirring their emotions, as only music can do, always there just below the surface, never forgotten, no hearing loss here, but an audible presence.

Praying that God stirs up every testimony heard even decades ago of lives transformed by the gospel.  May every missionary slide show still be recalled in vivid color, reminding them of God's faithfulness around the world. Praying that they remember all those times when the Spirit woke them in the middle of the night and sat with them in their desperate situations. May they yet taste the fellowship of every potluck tuna noodle casserole and jello salad in church basements with shiny linoleum floors and stacked folding chairs. Let every spiritual conversation around the table resound, casual words in the car, on a walk, or shopping in Walmart, remembered forever. They may forget our words, but let them hear the voice of the Almighty.

Praying they are continually surrounded by every prayer earnestly prayed for them, a parent, sibling, friend or grandparent faithfully on their knees pushing back the darkness.  That every Scripture verse claimed for them holds them firmly in the power of God's Word, their names inscribed in the margins with indelible ink.  May we ourselves never underestimate the power of God's Word which is neither bound nor forgettable. 

Praying they are incredibly aware of the love and words of Sunday School teachers who loved them, youth leaders who guided them, nursery workers faithfully rocking, church friends coming alongside, cabin mates at camp sharing stories, even strangers generous with kind words.  Let even a glimpse of a spectacular sunset stir up awe in their hearts for the Creator. May their thoughts be permanently glued with the stickiness of God's Word and their hearts covered by the thickness of His steadfast love.

 

And then, over the always-present struggles, hearts broken by flawed people, even injuries inflicted by those who should have known better, the festering of deep wounds, the bleeding out for decades, may God pour His grace and forgiveness over transgressions and heal their spirits without a limp, scar or recurring sorrow.  Redemption doesn't act like nothing ever happened but creates something new, not a band-aid stretched over it, but a resurrection all the way through.    

We can pray continually that these things, and even more, rising and emerging out of the hard soil and barren ground, coming up, embracing, and drawing them back to Him.

Praying until these things are no longer a memory but an insatiable yearning for God. 

Pray like anything is possible.  And know that God exceeds any predetermined thing we can ask for. He calls us all to Himself.   

God has left a witness in their hearts, ingrained deeply, calling to them, renewed every morning and resounding in the darkness of night, cutting through the noise with His still small voice. We cannot fix, rewind or restore.  But God has the power and compassion to rescue, resurrect the dead, and redeem the past, present and future.

We realize His glory there.

O God, You don't have to become real to them.  Because You already are. Let them find You ever before them. May Your invisible chariots surround them. May Your tangible love be irresistible. Bind them to You. Tie them to Your mast. Heal, shield, glue and renew the broken parts. Breathe into them. Sing choruses over them. And bring them back Home again. 

Help them to remember how much they are loved by You.  Help us to remember too. For we too -- all of us-- are red-handed rebels in need of Jesus.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you.

I have called you by name.  You are Mine...

Because you are precious in My eyes,

and honored,

and I love you."

              Isaiah 43. 1, 4 

Rewrite their story, Almighty One. 

In Ways We Cannot See

More than 35 years ago, a deeply grieving young man sitting on an airplane began scratching out some words to describe the deep ache in his heart, the hope to which he was clinging, and contemplating what God had to say about his tragic personal loss.

Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I am doing a new thing;  now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43. 18 

Several years later, someone happened to read what musician Don Moen had jotted down.  In 1990, a song emerged from it, and God poured His Spirit through it.  A month ago, I heard that song for the first time since I was a young mom.  The truth in that song, the hope that it displays, almost slayed me. His lyrics had stuck with me all those years:   God will make a way where there seems to be no way. He works in ways we cannot see. He will make a way for me.  

Composing that song, Moen made God’s faithfulness to be known, not realizing what God would do with it. He just did what God laid before him to do that day.  And that song gave hope decades later to someone he didn’t even know.  And that was me.  God changes hearts.  And He starts with our own.

No one may ever notice what we are doing today.  Or be touched by it.  But God redeems every bit. He knows it all matters.  It matters a lot. Because in God's economy, there is no division between great and small. God has divinely appointed us for this place and time, and for this work that He has placed before us. 

I cannot know if either what I write or do today will last a few minutes, end up deleted, unread, forgotten or ignored.  Or maybe, just maybe, help someone to know Him more.  But I can trust God even in this situation that He is continually working, not just in this day but for eternity.

Sometimes being faithful is sitting in front of a blank laptop screen all morning. 

For the past couple of weeks, I have wrestled with some writing that I started a while ago.  I added some more to it and deleted large portions that didn’t fit.  And by lunchtime, the piece looked like a teenager’s bedroom with little passages scattered all over like discarded clothes.  But then I went for a run through the woods. All the trees waved their hallelujahs above me, and gradually I had more words than I knew what to do with.  Sometimes, we just need to give time and wiggle room to our work, allowing God to sing over us with His Almighty voice, and bringing His glue to it. Even in ways we cannot see.

We ask You, dear Father, that our tiny efforts -- be it composing a song, making a meal, or simply saying a kind word to a child -- will empower someone to make it through the day, or navigate a shadowy passage, or finally walk out of the darkness into Your light, strengthened with a strength that is not their own.  Because You bring something beautiful to our work that we cannot imagine in really hard places where there seems to be no way.  Sing over us, dear Father, a victory song.  Even when we cannot see or hear it yet, we can know that You are with us all the way through and spread Your goodness over it in ways we never realize. But we know that in whatever it may be, You, O God, bring Your glory to it.

So also good works are conspicuous and even those that are not cannot remain hidden.  1 Timothy 5. 25

The fruit of faithfulness has no expiration date.  And it becomes evident in the most unexpected ways.  May God resound through what He has placed before us today. Not just faithful to our work, but faithful to Him. And let God run with it.