Brief: calling out to God in prayer

Originally published Tuesday, 31 January 2017.

brief: calling out to God

We feel hollowed out. Words, thoughts, feelings play hide-and-seek. We want to cajole them, coerce them into cooperating. No need to be shy. It’s just me. 

We are on our knees again. With no answers. No words. Will worship music help? What about beauty? So we find the songs that help our hearts remember who we are. We look for light falling on our face, our hands, bare branches in bitter cold outside. Words for our feelings might come now, yes? Oh, God, what is going on with my heart?

Listening helps us discern–untangling these emotions. Our heart beating. Our very breath. We are drawn inward. Father, help me hear You. Slow me down.



brief: calling out to GodSave



We convince ourselves that no words means no understanding. No words means confusion and denial and retreat. No words means doubting ourselves at the core: I am surely lost. Where is my place here? What matters?

We struggle to recognize these whispers of doubt and discouragement for what they are–distraction, lies of the enemy twisting what is good and making discontent rot what is hope, what is true, what is here. We feel only our spinning, our confusion, our disappointment, our anger. Each a symptom of an ache for something deeper. Yes, God, this struggle is real.

Understanding our own hearts feels elusive, and we are impatient to figure out what is going on. Where is joy? Why do I feel so distant from You? 

We want to wrestle clarity to the ground, tie it up, lock it down. Stay close! Don’t even think about getting away!

But then quiet.



brief: calling out to GodSave

God reminds us it is okay to not have the answers. We want to be okay with that.


Have courage, dear heart. Have courage to stay in the quiet, the place of no words. There is going to be a picture for you to see there.  And it is that picture that will be the beginning of understanding–understanding of who you are, how you are loved. And how maybe, words are overrated.

My understanding, child, is deeper than that. 

Father, we lift up our voices to You, your daughters. We stand and claim our place by your side, a place we do not deserve but which we say yes to, all the same. We are yours. We are conquerors in your name. You give us courage. We lean in now and desire your voice, your truth, more than anything else. We ask You to replace this heart of stone and give us a heart of flesh.

These troubles we face are temporary, and You are bigger than any problem. You are merciful, and You are kind. You are the Father, the King, the hero in our story. We love the story you write with your breath of love within our soul. Play your song in us now, our Lord. Let us be sweet music in your ears. We claim our place, and we hold your hand. You give us eyes to see and hearts to hear your voice.

It was your Word made flesh that gives us life. Thank you, Lord.  This day, how holy, how beautiful–because of You here, right here, right now. You are all we need.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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