Living On a Prayer

Note: I wrote this over the weekend, before I knew anything about the situation with my Granddad. While there is plenty of grief right now…and lots of praying going on…it’s not quite what I was talking about when I wrote this, so I’m going to go ahead and post it!

It seems I have been bombarded lately with thoughts on prayer. And with situations requiring desperate need for prayer. None of them my personal situations, which is both a source of relief and of guilt – why not me? I know the normal question is “why me?” and I’m certain that when a situation arises closer to home, that will be my question, but these days I’m just wondering how it is that I’m so blessed. I’m certain it’s through no great accomplishment or discipline of my own…even if that were a guarantee of immunity from struggle and grief, I most assuredly have not earned it. In this blessedness, there is a tendency toward a sense of impending doom – sooner or later, something’s bound to come my way – but I attempt to not give in to it, and instead try to use it as a constant reminder of how much I have to be grateful for.

And that wasn’t anywhere near the post I was headed for when I started.

What has really been on my mind is the subject of prayer. My usual method in the chaos of my life is to have a constant prayer conversation going on. I get interrupted all day long with “real life,” but at any moment, I can pick right back up with another quick shot or two toward Heaven. I’m sure that’s all fine and good – but I truly don’t say that to make myself sound all holy. The opposite, in fact, since what I’ve realized lately is that I never stop to quiet myself and spend any time in prayer.

Seriously, that’s like living on Dr. Pepper and bread. Which my inner child would totally love to do, by the way. Great things in and of themselves, but completely incapable of sustaining a healthy life. (And that right there is a sermon illustration you’re not gonna hear from my dad!)

My prayer life is seriously lacking in meat. And I’ve figured out why. (Besides the fact excuse that my life seems to be spent on the run!) When you sit down to pray – to really have a conversation with God – the rules of conversation require occasional listening. And I don’t want to listen. Because you know what happens? I start hearing things I don’t want to hear. It's a lot easier to just keep moving and firing off those little prayer bursts than it is to stop and listen. When I listen, He starts pointing out things in my life that aren’t very pretty. And when you’re flat on your face begging God for mercy in a situation, it doesn’t exactly seem wise to ignore when He talks. “Okay, God, really. We’re not talking about me here, we’re supposed to be talking about this other situation. Remember?” Yeah, try saying that to the Creator of the Universe. He’s a big enough God that He’ll listen in spite of our narrow focus, but how much do we miss by attempting to avoid His nudges? And is there a point at which He might give up and quit nudging? Or when He decides we need the point made in a larger (more painful) fashion?

Lord, help me find both the time and the desire to listen…..