Before We Even Ask

The door opened half-way through our weekly Bible study on a frigid February morning in Chicago. We had all braved the bitter cold and icy roads to be there.  One of our regular attenders slipped into the room, really late into our meeting. She sat in the back of the circle, as if willing herself to be invisible, like when our children were small and would whisper, “Don’t see me.”

When the Bible lesson was over, we shared prayer requests.  “Anything more?”  our leader asked after a while. 

“I was reluctant to come today,” the woman started to say.  “It seemed like everything stood in the way.  And I have a prayer request that seems both ridiculous and unattainable.”  She began haltingly to share about a refugee friend who was about to lose his job loading trucks because he could not pass a company-mandated English language test.”

“So how specifically can we pray?”

“He has less than a month to attain proficiency in order to keep his job,” she explained.  “It would require not just a Turkish speaker to help him, but because of the short timing, one who has experience in tutoring non-English-speaking refugees from a different culture.  And,” she added, “because he is Muslim, the tutor would have to be a man.”

I gasped.  She said, “Yes, I know.  Ridiculous.  Like what can God do with that?”

I chuckled out loud. “No, not ridiculous at all,” I said.  “God has already provided a solution, far more specific than you can imagine.  I have a friend who just moved to the area, a male teacher who just returned from 25 years as an educator in Turkey. And he has a flexible schedule.”

Little did she know that four decades before this moment, for just a semester, God placed me in a dorm next door to a woman with whom I continued to correspond after I left that college.  That friend, years later married a man who from an early age felt called to be a teacher in a foreign land.  They served faithfully in a country where they learned the language and loved the people. Their professional situation strangely derailed, or so they thought, and they returned to the States, nearby, not yet settled into full-time employment.

I made the introductions.  A month later, her refugee friend passed the proficiency test and was able to keep his job.

Little do we know how God redeems.  Most often beyond our radar, God weaves our lives delicately into the history of His Kingdom.

God specializes in impossible situations.  He goes before us.  God does not just “show up.”  He is already there.  We are the ones late to the party.

My friend’s prayer request did not result in a singular solution, but a testimony of God’s sovereignty that encouraged the rest of us, always to pray and to not lose heart. Luke 18. 1.

Why are we hesitant to come before Him?  Why are we reluctant to bring our prayer requests before others – even the “ridiculous” ones?  May God surprise us all by His provision, precise timing, and His Presence.  And to remember that your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.  Matthew 6.8

God always plays a long game, seamlessly woven in eternity.  We think we see the answer unfolding before us, but what we observe has been built in layers and infinitesimal details over history and the lives of people we don’t even know.  And through prayer, God allows us to see Himself.

Things don’t just happen.  Things don’t suddenly appear just because we prayed.  We did not set anything into motion.  We become aware of the Almighty. 

And sometimes God gives us a glimpse.  A wow moment.  Others may discount it as a coincidence.  But we lose something profound and life-changing by explaining away what only God can do....  and His Presence in it. 

When we pray, God listens.  He has been waiting to show us what He has already been getting ready.

For He will complete what He appoints for me, and many such things are in His mind.  Job 23.14

Our prayers are all linked together, the seen and unseen, and never in singular outcomes. Praying to God, and even asking for prayer, is never ever insignificant.

Dare we ask God?  Are we willing to accept His response?  What can God do with what is before us today?  With this?  God redeems.  God multiplies.  Far more than we can imagine.

And sometimes He uses us to make it happen.

What Do You Wish You Knew Then?

Christian writer, thinker, and “pastor to skeptics,” Tim Keller struggled with stage 4 pancreatic cancer for the past three years, since his diagnosis in May 2020.  A few days ago, he took his last breaths this side of life and went Home.

Many of us have been so encouraged in our faith through Keller’s work.  And even more have come to faith through God’s work in this faithful man.  Keller did not just write the book Making Sense of God, his life bore witness.

Out of all his books, presentations, and sermons, what is the one thing he would want you to know right now?

In an interview just a few months ago, Keller was asked, “Looking back, what do you wish you knew right out of seminary at the beginning of your ministry?”

He did not hesitate answering, “I wish I had seen how important my prayer life was…I could have been a far better minister if I had.”

Most people would say that Keller was just a special person, but he was no different than any of us.  He knew he needed God.  And through praying, he learned to approach and navigate the sharp turns and hard places of life differently, because he learned to trust God even more.

As busy as he was, Keller came to know that the time we spend in prayer, God always multiplies exponentially. 

God uses prayer in our lives and in our relationship with Him far more than we can ever imagine.

We can always come to Him.  "Seek Me in this."

But David strengthened himself in the LORD his God.  1 Samuel 30. 6

We can too.

 

True Confessions

Confession is the part of prayer we rather ignore.  We think of confessing as tearing off a super-glued band-aid and bleeding out again.

In our monthly communion service, we corporately confess, “we have sinned against You this day in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone,” so much easier said in unison with a big group of people.  We can’t always quite remember the specific details, but we pray Lord, have mercy, anyway.

“A generalized confession may save us from humiliation and shame, but it will not ignite inner healing,” wrote Richard Foster in Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth.

Confessing is not just about repeating words of a liturgy.  Something happens.  Something life-changing unfolds.

Long ago, our daughter taught her kids not just to throw out a casual “sorry” when they intentionally did something wrong or hurtful.  But to ‘fess up and say, “I was wrong for ______.  Will you forgive me?”  In the process, she was also showing them how to confess before God and what a changed heart looks like.

Those three little words “I was wrong” is what God redeems.  Those three little words mark when we realize how much we are loved.  Those three little words mark when we realize how much we love Him.

When we pray, we lay out our concerns before the Lord.   But confessing does the heavy lifting.  As an action verb, confessing means dragging the dead weight of our selfishness to the altar, a U-Haul of shame and guilt, and leaving it there.   Confessing means tearing in tiny little pieces a beloved ream of excuses and justifications.  Confessing means to finally stop hiding behind our dread and regret, what we have always wished would just disappear and maybe God didn’t notice.

But we all sin.  And that is why Jesus came. Confession, forgiveness, and healing are seamlessly woven. 

How differently would we live if confessing was a vital part of our prayer lives?  Not dwelling on the negative, “I’m such a bad person,” but freeing us up from the burden of our selfishness and rebellion against God, and living as “a forgiven person.”

Confessing gives God the space to move and remove, redeem and make all things new. Remember, God is the One who created confession, not to make us feel guilty, but that we would know full-heartedly that we are loved. He already knew that we could not do life alone.  Confessing is responding to God, “I love You too much to keep living like this without You.”

As I write, workers are in the attic replacing our temperamental air conditioner, malfunctioning in some form for eight years running.  In order for the technicians to do their installation, repairs, and reconnections, I had to make space for them to work. 

Yesterday, when I opened the attic door, I wondered how that was going to happen.  Start with the easy stuff, I told myself.  I threw out some empty boxes – you know, really good sturdy cartons that we might need someday.  A little margin appeared.  I shuffled a few things around and consolidated a couple bins. 

But I knew I was dancing around the inevitable.  Standing in the center of the attic was an almost 40-year-old rocking horse that our daughters played with as children. It was time.  It had taken up far too much space for far too long. 

Up until that point, I had not realized how so much of the attic was revolving around something that our grandchildren didn’t even want to play with.  But we all have complicated (and often ridiculous) emotions about our stuff, even more so about our favorite sins:  “It’s not so bad” and the all powerful “But I might need it someday.”  My mind began its traditional tug-of-war.  The voice of reason “Get rid of it,” argued vehemently with “I can’t just throw it away! I’ve had it for such a long time.”

Isn’t that what confession is all about?  Releasing what is standing in the way of our growing relationship with God?

Finally, I scooted that old faded horse into the hallway, and Bill took it down to the garage to donate to Goodwill. Letting go was not as painful as I thought it would be.  I just needed to get it over the threshold.

I honestly couldn’t believe how much space was freed up by letting go of one item that I didn’t even recognize or categorize as a burden.  With just that one thing gone, released, and removed, I could see a lot better what other ridiculous things I had been accumulating bit by bit.

I immediately thought, what if I let go – insert the word confess—all that other stuff?  Those idols in all shapes and sizes, selfishness crammed into easily accessible boxes, grudges I’d been tripping over, and downright wrongdoings stacked up in the corners of my heart?   What if those were confessed, released, and removed, how much more room would I find in my own heart, thoughts, and soul, to love God and to love others?  What cherished collections of excuses are getting in the way?  One single box of justifications multiplies exponentially, which is why self-storage units comprise an incredible $29 billion industry.

And we wonder why our hearts are overloaded with bad attitudes and stuffed with their supersized first cousins named Anxiety, Stress, and Worry?  What am I holding onto so tightly?

If things are going to be different, something has to change.

What hoarded cartons moved from one season of life to the next need to be finally opened, confessed, forgiven, and thrown irretrievably into the county dumpster?   Not making room for more, but opening up cavernous spaces in our crowded and anxious hearts for God’s healing and revealing hand.  And for the transformation of our souls that He yearns to provide.

“Honesty leads to confession, and confession leads to change,” Foster notes.

That’s the whole point of praying this way.

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.  1 John 1. 9

And God’s redeeming comes rushing in.


 

There Are No Little Things

Our personal chronicle of God’s faithfulness is not divided between great and small, but written word by word, passage by passage, experience by experience.   His glory comes in all shapes and sizes.  And often in unexpected ways.  We are drawn to pray about our monumental crises.  But God uses the little stuff to remind us that He is here.  He is still here.  He cares about us more than we can know.

And God loves to surprise us. 

While waiting for my granddaughter at volleyball practice, I discovered that a tiny dove had fallen off my necklace. In the grand scheme of things, that should not be a big deal.  But it made me sad.  I’ve had this simple Huguenot cross for almost fifty years.  Was it in the Costco parking lot?  On the floor of the hardware department in Walmart? Down our shower drain?

We rarely hesitate to pray about the huge stuff.  But do we pray when it seems too little, too ridiculous, even embarrassing to come before Him?

With all the heavy, complicated and difficult things to pray about this week – illness, hardship, and griefs one after another -- I felt a bit ashamed even talking to God about it, but I did.  Please show me what to do about it.  Guide my thoughts, my eyes, and my heart.  And then as I drove home, I prayed about all the rest.

Later that night, as I walked back to our closet to put away my shoes, something caught my eye on the bathroom floor.  It was that tiny little dove.  I felt really humbled that God cared even about this tiny little instance.  And I realized how much more God is capable of doing in our lives, far more than we know and way beyond what we pray about.

Then King David went in and sat before the LORD and said, “Who am I, O Lord GOD, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far?  And yet this was a small thing in Your eyes, O Lord GOD.” 2 Samuel 7. 19

Both the vertical and the horizontal are seamlessly woven.  Prayer helps us to see and experience another dimension of God and to recognize what is powerfully unfolding before us, totally outside of ourselves.  That which we want to explain away but we cannot.

In the midst of World War 2, William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury said, “When I stop praying, the coincidences stop happening.” 

Is it too much for us to recognize the hand of God?  What does it take to acknowledge Him?  Nothing random at all.

Praying is a way of moving through life, knowing that we can discover God in unexpected and inexplicable places.  He delights in us.  We are His beloved.  God reveals Himself to us in the tiny details. 

Your way was through the sea, Your path through the great waters, yet Your footprints were unseen.  Psalm 77. 19

All of our profound moments are built upon what only appears as “insignificant” details glued together.  It is realizing that His thoughtful, tender, totally unnecessary actions show how much He loves us.

As in our closest relationships, it is not the huge events that bind us together with Him but the daily engraved moments.

God gives us the surprising chocolate chips when we need them the most, when we expect them the least, the sweet little surprises to assure us of His Presence, even right in the midst of our impossible places, our heartaches, our stumbles, and the very details of our lives.

He hears the cries of our hearts, even the whimpers.  God sees our prayers as a means of revealing Himself to us.  

God listened.  God listens.  God will still be listening.  Nothing escapes His attention.  So much escapes ours.

Did it even occur to me to pray about that?  The little stuff is never little stuff.