Sunday, October 30, 2011

A posture of prayer

Over the past few weeks God has really laid heavily upon my heart the importance of prayer. At times, I haven't been able to decipher how and what this should look like, yet I hear His voice over and over again whispering "Come near, Draw near." And I've been doing this...alone...trying to obey and respond to His still small voice. And through obedience, study, prayer and praise, I sense He is calling me to so much more. Calling me to something deeper, something more intimate, something more purposeful and powerful. Even still, my hesitant and fearful heart feels burdened, at times panicked.

Today in church God painted a picture in my heart. I envisioned my life, a journey, a race. As if I am running through a thick forest of trees frantically seeking His face and His ways. Where sometimes there is a clear opening and I can see Him full on...and other times, I'm wildly running and the limbs of the world are thick and protruding, threatening to block my view, and so heavily weighing me down with trouble and worry that I can only see part of His face and have to strain to do so. In the past, I've lost sight of it altogether and have wondered if He is still there, if He is still for us. This is not my struggle now, my struggle is keeping Him in sight, free from distraction. Sometimes the lures of this world disguise themselves as leaves of beauty...earnestly fighting for my attention and affection, leaving empty promises to satisfy. Yet, they all too soon wither and fall to the ground, along with their fleeting beauty and failed promise to bring fulfillment.

The conviction of intercessory prayer (and prayer beyond just myself) persists. Yet the forest still remains. That tree of doubt next to that tree of discouragement, waiting for me to stumble and fall, to keep me down and cause me to lose sight all together. Connivingly working with the Enemy to deceive. And the Lord is saying, child, those trees will remain. Life will continue on as a forest. But, to seek me and find me you must crouch down. On your knees is where you need to be. It's in this position where you will find me. I haven't moved. I was. I am. I'm yet to come. I remain the same. Kneel down in this forest of life. It's there that the opening exists, The light shines through, uninterrupted by the limbs of worry and strife. They can't weigh you down while in this posture of prayer and humility. They don't grow downward and can't reach you while you're here, yet the Son will. Those troublesome limbs and distracting branches do grow strong and mighty. I'll show you the way through them, through this forest, through your doubt and discouragement, through your fear and weariness. The opening to light, the clear vision to My face and My ways begins on your knees. I'm bigger than those trees. I'm mightier than the oaks and higher than the cedars of the forest.

I don't have the answers. Lord, at times I do not understand your ways or your plan for our lives. But your Word clearly states "do not lean on your own understanding. (Proverbs 3:5). I'm following Your ways, but I don't always feel the blessing. In a posture of prayer, where I must mightily seek and acknowledge You, I'm trusting You to make my paths straight (Proverbs 3:6). I don't always know what to pray for, but you use others to speak to me and Your righthand man is seated next to You interceding on my behalf...filling in the gaps and spaces with mercy and grace. Where I lack wisdom and discernment, I have an all-wise Savior that covers me.

While it's going to feel uncomfortable, and at times inconvenient...I'm trying. I'm going to set aside my pride and stubborness, my idleness and feelings of fear and inadequacy. I'm replacing them with a posture of prayer...and the belief that I'll see His face shine more brilliantly than I've ever seen before. I sense something big on the horizon. Lord, lead the way.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for sharing this. This is excatly how I feel. Through this you are a blessing and a wonderful sister in Christ. I love you.-Meghan