I’ve kept a journal for years (my favorite are the Leuchtturm 1917 for paper quality and construction). I would jot down my rambling thoughts, things that had happened throughout the day and finish with a prayer time. Before I sit down to write anything on my blog or on my latest novel, I always prayer journal. I want to make sure my motives are right, my words come from a place of honesty and point back to the Word Himself. Writing is my prayer language. I know for some it’s worship music and singing; for others, their prayers are spoken aloud; for another, theirs are quiet and said mentally. There’s no one way to pray, just as there’s not one right way to carry on a conversation. As long as we come humbly and respectfully, it’s all good. God calls us all into a relationship with Him–and we can’t go further in that relationship if we don’t spend time with Him. It’s like I’ve taught my kids: how well do you think you’d know me if we only spent five minutes or less a day together? Not very well. How much more does God want to know you and want you to know Him? You’ve got to spend time with each other to do that.
[tweetthis hidden_hashtags=”#prayer #Jesus”]You have to spend time with the Lord to get to know Him. [/tweetthis]
About ten months ago, I felt the Lord calling me to get to know Him on a deeper level. Reflecting on a couple Bible studies I’d done where I’d copied the chapter of the Bible being studied, I thought that would be a good way to refocus my journal ramblings. So after much prayer, I began with the book where the authors were praying, singing, and crying out to the Lord in very honest and transparent ways: Psalm. Who wrote the Psalms? The most prolific author was David, who wrote over 75. The rest were penned by Asaph, The sons of Korah, Solomon, and Moses.
Little did I know, this would begin a new kind of prayer life for me. Since that first night in June 2015, I’ve filled some five journals, and just ordered my sixth. I would write a whole Psalm, if not too long. If it went over six verses, I’d break it up. The point wasn’t to rush through, but rather meditate on the words, the author, their intent and getting to know the heart of God on a more intimate level.
Have you ever watched a movie where the actors have a significant accent and walked way with you using that accent? Writing does that, too. And as I copied the Psalms, I found myself praying in the tone of the author–and of the ultimate Author of them all. I learned how much our Father wants to hear from the depths of our hearts, how He longs for us to cry out to Him and rejoice with Him in a beautiful synchronicity of petition and worship.
I’m a lover of taking verses that mean something deeper to me and applying them to photos and keeping them on my phone for study and easy access. So, as I went, I made note of those. Before I knew it, I had so many I had trouble keeping track of them and was running out of memory on my phone, so I made a Pinterest page to gather them in one spot. Check them out here April’s Pinterest. Feel free to download them and save them to your phone.
Since I began this journey with my Bible studies, I’ve copied James, and 1 and 2 Thessalonians. Now with my prayer journal, I’ve copied the Psalms, Ephesians and I’m currently prayer journaling through Philippians and Revelations (concurrently with a study I’m doing through Bible Study Fellowship). Through this, I’m getting to know the Lord on a deeper level, and see Him in yet another dimension of personality and intimacy than ever before.
Have you ever journaled through the Bible? What was your experience like? Did you keep up the habit of spending time regularly with your Lord? I’ve only missed once because of illness in the past ten months. This wasn’t out of a mundane routine–but because this time with Him has become so special to me. I find myself turning to Him more through the day, staying in that place of communication and worship so much easier than before. Because the more time I spend with Him, the more time I needto spend with Him. The more time I want to spend with Him.
We’re wrapping up the old year and bringing in another brand new year. Goodbye 2014. You were a challenge to me. I had some of my greatest writing achievements (a second book published, up for some awards, won an honorary award) this year. I also faced a long bout of multiple illnesses–it was a very hard spring and summer.
People I’m close to faced some pretty unimaginable trials last year–many are carrying on into the new year. I’d like to say tomorrow is a brand new day with no problems in it–that it really is altogether new and spotless, that being a new year carried some guarantees of wellness and will be trouble free. But I can’t. This new year will have high points and low for everyone I know. But I take comfort we can face anything if we’re trusting in the Lord.
In my prayer time recently, I began to feel uneasy. Some of the things I’ve been praying for a very long time. Was I praying right? Did I have the right words, the right faith, the right posture? Was my heart right, my intentions good enough? At that point I was reminded that I could never pray right enough to convince God of anything. You see, I’m imperfect. I sometimes have selfish motives. I can’t see the big picture like God does (who planned our Lord’s birth over thousands of years down to the last detail). I don’t know if removing a trial from a loved one’s life will, in the end, be a detriment instead of what God intended using it for (drawing them closer to Him usually figures in that equation). In fact, when it came down to it, I didn’t know anything at all. Well, except one thing–these circumstances I prayed for, they all needed God’s hand of strength, of peace, of patience, of healing. The details were not up to me, they were up to Him.
Jesus said to pray. I pray. Jesus said to ask for whatever I need in His name. I do. He also prayed the night before his arrest and conviction: “Not my will but Yours be done. *
That removes a lot of pressure, doesn’t it? At the end of us and our ideas of how things should be, it’s enough to pray, “Not my will but Yours be done.” I know I can pray that with all confidence because I trust Him. I know His attributes: He is the God of love, of mercy, of strength, of peace, of comfort, of provision.
Trust comes in every relationship as intimacy deepens. You share, they share; you listen, they listen; you’re there for them, and they are there for you.
Do you trust in the One who hears our prayers? If you’ve never given your life to Jesus, if you’ve never admitted your sin and need of Him and asked Him into your heart, then that first step of intimacy is missing from your life. You’ll never learn to trust Him if you’ve never met Him. Relationship with Him begins with that simple prayer.
But then it goes on. It has to or you’ll never get to know Him the way He’d like you to. Think of it this way: It’d be as if I met you on the street, we had an amazing bonding experience, and then you never spoke to me again.
I pray this new year will be full of blessings, but especially full of intimacy with our Lord. I pray for Him to work out His full, perfect will in your life.
Everyone has seasons in their lives of joy and hardship. Sometimes the hard ones feel like they go on forever, though. We’ve gone through many years of health hardships. They don’t seem to stop, but continue to ramp. You can take a break from activities, you can take a vacation from your job—but you can’t get away from your health.
Imagine with me a staircase.
The stairs take you up. The first few get your blood pumping, the next set start taking a bit more effort and you breathe harder. You keep on going, looking toward the end, but now your breath comes in gasps and pants. You have to stop and grip the rail, but there’s no place to sit down. Sweat trickles down your back, so you take off your coat, and keep climbing, because there’s no going back—there’s just up. If you have a disability, you might be pulling yourself along by that rail, one shaky foot, one sweaty palm, at a time.
On a real staircase, there are landings. If you’re climbing at a park, there might even be a well-placed bench for you to take a breather, a respite, a time of recovery—a drink of cool water. It might be pokey, and uneven, but it’s a bench, and you’re grateful for it. After you catch your breath, you continue on, and then the path, or the stairwell, turns a corner. You’re still tired, but not as tired as you were. You had a break. The best thing is, you know soon there will be another landing, another place to take a break—or you’ll have reached the top.
But, what if there are no landings?
What if those stairs just keep climbing? You crane your neck, squint your eyes and all you see are more and more stairs. That’s where we’re at. These past few weeks, I’ve been praying for a landing.
Maybe you’re with me on those stairs, climbing relentlessly, praying for a break. Maybe it will help you to know you’re not alone. I’m here, too. We can hold each other’s hands as we go, pull each other up over that next step, urge each other along. Pray for one another. Jesus is there with us, He’s got your hand and mine.
Let me know if I can pray for you. You can message me privately on this page, or leave a comment below. Either way, I’ll see you on the stairs.
Psalm 73: 23-26 Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand.You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (full passage here)
John 10:25-30 Jesus answered, “I did tell you, but you do not believe. The works I do in my Father’s name testify about me, but you do not believe because you are not my sheep. My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.” (full passage here)
Philippians 4: 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (full passage here)
Do you find it hard not to offer advice or try to fix things—not to speak when someone is in need? I have to admit, I’m a reformed fixer. And if you know me personally, you know I love to talk!
In the past year, I’ve had the privilege to sit in silence next to friends and even a stranger here or there. In December, I was on the phone with a gal in customer service at my internet provider who really needed someone to listen to her. She mentioned it was the first Christmas for her and her kids since their divorce. She went on to tell me about their new apartment, their plans for the holidays, and how things were hard, but going better than she expected. She must have shared with me for fifteen minutes (I hope they weren’t recording THAT call for quality assurance). After a while, she apologized for keeping me so long, but I told her it was okay, and I hoped she’d have a wonderful Christmas. After I hung up, my daughter came by my desk and asked who I’d been talking to. I told her I didn’t know and she gave me the strangest look!
In other times this past year, I’ve had close friends sharing tough times or experiencing deep grief. In those instances as well, the best thing to do was for me to stay silent and listen, holding their hand and offering to pray with them.
When I was a kid, we’d drive past farmland with rows of trees and bushes planted. If I tried to see them all, they’d be this big blur. But when I focused on one at a time, I could see the straight rows they were planted in, and the pathways in-between. Slowing down to listen is like that. And oftentimes, when we are listening, God will speak to our hearts about how we can best be there for others.
James 1:19 My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry…(full text here)
The other day, sick again (seriously!) I was at the doctor’s office seeing a fill-in because I couldn’t get into see my regular physician. As often happens, she didn’t have a clue what CVID was—and she wasn’t really up on primary immunodeficiency. And when I said IgG replacement a tiny light went on—but still, not getting it. (I make time to mention that she’s seen me twice before and hadn’t a clue).
If you don’t know about CVID, then here’s a window: I went from a sore throat at 2:30 to full on bronchitis by 4:00. Colds hit fast, and hard! Considering I had pneumonia in September…well, you get the idea. It really wears down a person.
Anyway, I’m not blogging to come down on a doctor or whine about colds (tempting…but no). I’m sharing a change in attitude.
When I first started weekly subcutaneous IgG replacement therapy, I was hopeful, but scared (it’s a blood product after all, and stuff can go wrong). It involves pumps and syringes and needles—but I was so glad to have help, I did it. Then, at about 10 weeks, I started to have panic attacks—heart racing, sweat-breaking, hand shaing attacks (you get the idea). It got harder and harder to insert the four needle lines and sit there for 2 1/2 hours infusing, afraid to move. After much prayer, and changing some pre-meds, things got easier, and by 25 weeks I realized I needed to start thinking differently about IgG, or the stress would do me in. I started to picture the 90mls of fluid as friends (this came from some very early advice via a friend who’d overcome cancer a couple years ago). I came up with a positive sounding name for my treatment. Oh, and I prayed. A lot.
Guess what? It worked. So super well, that I’ve incorporated it into my thinking, and was brought up short at the doctor’s office, not realizing I’d used the term. When I got done explaining my rare condition, the doctor stared at me blankly. She asked, “What are these ‘immuno-buddies’ you keep referring to?”
I stared back at her and clicked through our conversation in my head. Yep. Instead of saying I was taking immunoglobulin replacement therapy, I’d said, “I guess my immuno-buddies haven’t had this bug yet.”
I went on to explain my thinking and what the term meant to me. She still looked a bit blank, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about the turning point in my therapy/care of this disease. It felt like pure victory to me.
I’m not going to say it’s fun, or a breeze now, because it’s not—but I know this is helping me, strengthening me, and God’s answer for keeping me safe for now. Maybe one day they’ll come up with a daily infusion, like they have for diabetes (that’d be so very cool). But, for now, I have my weekly immuno-buddies.
Facing these kinds of challenges can either tax our strength and tear us down, or make us stronger depending on our attitude about it. I’m not saying it’s a quick fix or instant change, but with daily prayer and submission to the Father, we can be more than conquerors in this life.
Romans 8:31, 37-39 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? …No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (full texthere)
I took my son to see his specialist the other day. While we were sitting there, he played with his Lego men and another mom sat reading a book to her son. Across the room, a couple held their daughter and made little jokes. It’s unspoken that we’re all there for a reason—our kids suffer from some sort of gastrointestinal illness. As we pretended we were there for ‘normal’ reasons, a woman entered, pushing her disabled young son in a raised wheel chair. As soon as the door opened, the boy made himself known. He wailed in a most heart-wrenching way.
As she checked in at the receptionist’s desk, his wails grew louder, more intense. He sobbed, screamed and then began a rasping gag. I surmised he had lung issues, with whatever other health issues he had. And he was one unhappy boy.
Everyone in the room immediately got quiet and tried looking at anything in the room except for the crying boy. My son’s hands stilled over his toys but, instead of looking away, stared openly at the other boy, his own eyes filling with tears. Mine soon followed. He looked up at me, face full of fear mixed with compassion. We’ve had a lot of moments these past four years that have made the frailness of life very apparent to us—but seeing someone so young suffering really hit home with Seth.
The boy’s sobs and rasps quieted as his very patient mother took off his coat and brushed her hands down his arms, adjusting his legs and shifting his Spongebob pillow behind his neck to make him more comfortable. It was then I noticed the boy’s earplugs. As the patients were called, they left the room with relief. I have to admit, I was hoping for our turn—as the boy still had not quit crying and gagging on phlegm. I felt tense from his screams and it’d only been fifteen minutes—and then I looked at the mother’s face. She seemed so alone. I wondered if she had anyone to lean on.
I put myself in her place, isolated, care-giving for her son all day long, and probably all night long as well. Exhausting. For them both.
Instead of acting like they weren’t there, I engaged her in conversation past his wails and rasps. I asked if he had breathing problems, and she said he’d suffered a brain injury so his lungs and muscles didn’t do what they were supposed to, to help clear things out. He was five. As she spoke, he calmed a bit and then another person entered the room and the door buzzer went off—and so did the boys cries.
I said, “He hates his chair, does he?” I don’t know what made me think that. I remember my own son, hating his car seat so much that he’d scream the entire time he was in it. He wasn’t uncomfortable, he wasn’t hurting, but he hated it and would scream bloody murder.
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, he does. And loud noises, they frighten him.” She motioned to the ear plugs. For a moment, we were just two mom’s visiting, sharing notes about our boys. Then it was his turn, and she gave me a grateful smile and wheeled her son into their appointment.
I looked down at Seth, still sitting quietly, thinking. “That was hard, wasn’t it?” I asked him, knowing full well he’d be thinking about the boy and how hard his life was for days. He nodded. “Let’s pray for that mom and boy, okay?” And he nodded again. We took some time right there to pray.
It’s our nature to avoid suffering. It’s hard and scary and it makes us feel insecure. Life can be like that. But I think worse than suffering, is pretending it doesn’t exist. There are people in pain all around us, even if they aren’t crying out—it’d do us all well to stop and listen, to be there and be compassionate. To come alongside them, a shoulder to lean on. And pray.
Romans 12:15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (full text here)
Mathew 7:12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets. (full text here)
1 John 4:7-12 Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. (full text here)
I’ve kept a journal for years (my favorite are the Leuchtturm 1917 for paper quality and construction). I would jot down my rambling thoughts, things that had happened throughout the day and finish with a prayer time. Before I sit down to write anything on my blog or on my latest novel, I always prayer journal. I want to make sure my motives are right, my words come from a place of honesty and point back to the Word Himself. Writing is my prayer language. I know for some it’s worship music and singing; for others, their prayers are spoken aloud; for another, theirs are quiet and said mentally. There’s no one way to pray, just as there’s not one right way to carry on a conversation. As long as we come humbly and respectfully, it’s all good. God calls us all into a relationship with Him–and we can’t go further in that relationship if we don’t spend time with Him. It’s like I’ve taught my kids: how well do you think you’d know me if we only spent five minutes or less a day together? Not very well. How much more does God want to know you and want you to know Him? You’ve got to spend time with each other to do that.
of the author–and of the ultimate Author of them all. I learned how much our Father wants to hear from the depths of our hearts, how He longs for us to cry out to Him and rejoice with Him in a beautiful synchronicity of petition and worship.
