The Truth About Persistent Prayer

Hi Friends,

Tomorrow is Bethany's birthday!!  I can't believe our firstborn will already be 14.  Where have the years gone?  As I was sitting here planning our shopping and cake and perhaps a fun trip to Monterey, I remembered something that Bethany taught me in her preschool years.  I thought it would be fun to share it here.

So, this is for anyone who wonders why they ought to keep praying for something, for those who feel they have to beat down the door of heaven to get God to answer (you don't!), for those wondering if they need to earn God's "yes" through persistent prayer … and if not, why pray persistently at all.

Here ya go:

Only One Prayer?

I hung up the phone and bit my lip.  Bethany wasn’t going to like this.  Not one bit. 

She sauntered into the room.  “Who was that, Mommy?” 

“Jacqueline’s Mom.” 

Bethany clapped her hands.  “Really!?  Are we going to her house to play?” 

I sighed and held out my arms to draw Bethany close.  “No, Sweetie.  And do you remember how Mommy told you that Jacqueline signed up for the last spot in your preschool class next year?”  Of course she remembered.  She’d been talking about it for weeks.

“Yes!  I can’t wait.”

A rock settled in my chest.  “Well, Jacqueline’s Mom said there was a mix up at the preschool and there’s not room for Jacqueline after all.”

Bethany’s face dropped into a mask of sorrow.  “No Jacqueline.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her bottom lip turned.  “But, but …”

“It’ll be okay.”

“But that’s not fair.”  A fat tear rolled down her cheek.  “Can’t you fix it, Mommy?  Can’t you do something?”

I brushed back her hair with my fingers.  “I can’t.  But . . .”  I paused.  “But you could pray.”

She sniffed.  “I could ask God.”

“Yes, but you know—“

“I’ll do it now.  Dear God, please make a place for Jacqueline to be in my preschool class.  Amen.”

I kissed her forehead and thought of all the obstacles to a “yes” from God.  State law dictated that only a certain number of students were allowed in a class.  The number was filled.  And at this late date, it was highly unlikely that someone would drop out.  But still, God was God.

Two weeks later, Jacqueline’s mom called again.  “You aren’t going to believe this,” she began.  “You know how I’ve been trying for two weeks to get in touch with the people at the preschool.”

“Any luck?”

“Nothing but voice mail.  Until today.”

I held my breath.

“The teacher called me this morning.  It’s amazing.  A spot’s opened for Jacqueline.” 

“Wonderful!”  I whooped into the phone.  

Minutes later I went into Bethany’s room and told her the good news.  She jumped up and shouted even louder than I had.  “Wow.  It took only one prayer!”  Then, she danced around the room.

I laughed.

She grinned at me.  “I thought it would take a hundred.” 

I reached over and ruffled her hair.  “Remember how Mommy always says that she hears you the first time?  Well, God hears you the first time too.”

“I know.  I know it now.” 

I sat on the bed and watched Bethany return to playing with her toys.   Only one prayer.  Her words tickled my heart.  One prayer, and God heard, and answered, and moved.  Did I, too, know that God was that near, so near that he hears me the first time?  Or was I living as if I had to earn a “yes” from God by the number of my prayers?  I knew that God encourages us to be persistent in prayer.  After all, I’d recently studied the parable of the persistent widow in Luke 18.  There, Jesus told the story of a widow who consistently pled for justice from an unjust judge.  Eventually the judge granted her request.  But God isn’t an unjust judge who has to be pestered into answering my prayers.  He doesn't tell the parable to say God is like the judge, but rather HOW MUCH MORE will God answer, respond, give us what we need when we ask … because he isn't unjust?!  Even the unjust judge answers.  How much more will our Heavenly Father, who loves us deeply, passionately, and unconditionally?

Bethany’s exuberant reaction showed me that prayer shouldn’t be a way to beat down the door of heaven.  It’s not a means to gain brownie points in order to cash in for what I'm asking for.  It isn't "payment" for a positive response.  So, what is prayer?  And why does Jesus want us to keep on praying if we’re heard the very first time?

As I sat and watched Bethany play, I started to understand that prayer is not so much a duty as a GIFT.  It's not a means to earn a "yes" from God but rather an opportunity to bring our sorrows, our hopes, our needs to Him, and lay them at His feet as often as we think about them.  It’s a way, not to twist God’s arm, but to offer our hearts, and so ourselves, continually before Him, and in doing so to surrender to His will.  We pray persistently because God is available to us persistently, continually, faithfully.  He wants to receive the burdens we carry as often as we are willing to lift them to him.

As often as we pray, He hears, He answers, He moves, even when the answers aren’t as obvious as a place in preschool.  We pray because God is so near that He hears us, every single time our hearts are burdened and we turn toward Him.  He is there.  He is near.  He loves us that much.

Life Lessons from a Baby -- Happy Birthday, Jordyn (age 3)

Hi Friends,

Well, yesterday was Jordyn's birthday.  She's now a three-year-old!  We had a fun day of going to the Monterey Bay Aquarium where we saw the penguins, the jellyfish, the big tank full of fish, touched some sea urchins, held some hermit crabs, and watched as the sardines swarmed to their food.  Jordyn was mesmerized by the wonder and beauty of God's creation in the seas.

Wow, we really do have an amazing creator-God!

And while we were celebrating Jordyn's third birthday, I was reminded of a few of the things she taught me when she was first born.  I thought I'd share her new baby lessons again today.

So, here ya go:

New baby lessons:

1) It's easiest to rest when you're tucked into the arms of someone who loves you. May I remember that I am tucked in the arms of God today, he loves me, I am not alone. What can be better than that?

2) (during her first real bath): Becoming clean can be scary, so it's important to trust the One doing the washing, even when the waters splash up around you. May I relax and trust God to make me clean, even when circumstances seem scary or new!

3) It's easier to be changed if you're not thrashing about fighting the procedure. So, next time I've made a mess and God wants to change me, may I remember to be still and know that He's God.

4) After Baby had gas one night. What I learned: It's hard to take in the good stuff you need (wisdom, God's Word, peace, love) when you're full of hot air. :-)

5) Being hungry makes you cranky. So, when I'm anxious or irritable, perhaps I'm really just hungry for more of God. May I turn to Him to fill me!

6) When you know you're loved, you can take a lot more poking and prodding (baby puts up with A LOT from her big brother who just adores her -- note: this one hasn't changed in 3 years). So, how is God prodding you lately? Remember, it's because He loves and adores you!

7) When you're feeling well fed, you can put up with a lot. Make sure you're taking in plenty of God's Word and wisdom because life rarely goes as planned! (Learned while filling baby Jordyn up with milk at the urgent care while finding out that Bethany's wrist was broken.)

8) Life lesson from baby delivery: Be wise and be ready because you don't really know how much time you have (learned after dilly-dallying at home and getting to the hospital only 45 minutes before baby was born).

Did You Miss God's Will? Maybe not . . .

Hi Friends,

So, Bryan's going to be teaching at FIX (our church's junior high youth group) tonight, so I've been looking for some fun stories for him to share about Bethany and Joelle (who are in that group).  And with all the cold weather around the country (and it's cold here today too than it's been), I thought this one would be fun to share there … and here too.

So, if you've ever felt like you've failed.  If you ever thought you must have missed God's will because you didn't hear Him clearly enough.  If you worry you've missed His plan for you.  If you just wish God would tell you "yes" or "no" … then this story might help you to see things in a new way.  

Read on, and see what you think!

Got Goosebumps?

We were late.  Again.  I put my hands on my hips and called up to Bethany’s room.  “Aren’t you ready, yet?”

She peeked out from the doorway to her room.  “What should I wear?”

“You aren’t even dressed?”

“Should I wear my black tank top or the long sleeved shirt with the horse on it?”

I pointed toward the window where rain pelted the glass with steady intensity.  “Did you look outside?”

Her glance followed my gesture.  “Oh.”  She paused and frowned.  “But I wanted to wear the tank top.”

“Wear whatever you want, just hurry up.  We’ve got to go.”

Three minutes later, Bethany came down the stairs wearing her tank top. 

My eyebrows raised, but I didn’t say a word, even though I knew the tank top wasn’t the wisest choice for a cold, rainy day.  She’d learn.

And she did.  Three miles down the road, goosebumps lined her arms and she was shivering.  “I-I should have worn the long sleeves.”

“Yep.”

“B-but I asked you.  You c-could have told me.”

I glanced back at her.  “Yes, I could have.  But I want you to learn to be wise.  Next time, you’ll know what to do.”

She nodded and rubbed her hands over her arms.

As we drove the rest of the way (with the heat turned up), I recalled a verse about wisdom from Proverbs 8:11 (NIV): “For wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her,” and I realized that oftentimes I’m a lot like Bethany in my relationship with God.

I want answers, not wisdom.  I want to know if should do A or B.  Should I take this job or that one?  Should I buy this house or that condo?  Should I go here or there, do this or that?

But what if God was less interested in my choices than in my growth?  Proverbs 4:7-8 (NIV) says, “Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding.  Esteem her, and she will exalt you; embrace her, and she will honor you.”  For Bethany, wisdom cost some goosebumps.  And to me, that was worth it.  It was more important that she learn to look out the window and then choose her clothes wisely, than for her to be warm and comfortable on our trip to the store.  So, what if, like any good parent, God wanted me to be able to look out the window, see the rain, and be able to choose wisely too. 

As I considered my actions with Bethany that morning, I began to see that my own prayer life needed to change.  I realized that it's better to seek wisdom than guidance. Not that seeking guidance is wrong, just like it was fine for Bethany to ask my opinion about her wardrobe choices.  But wisdom, like precious gems, is even better. So, my prayers needed to shift away from "should I do A or B" and more toward "Help me to grow in wisdom so I will understand if I should do A or B."

My eyes caught Bethany’s in the rearview mirror.  She was still shivering.  I motioned toward the back of the car.  “There’s a sweatshirt in the back for you.”

“Th-thanks.  The tank top was a dumb idea.”

I grinned as Bethany grabbed the sweatshirt and slipped into it.  Dumb, yes.  But not disobedient.  Her goosebumps didn’t mean that she’d done wrong,  just that she needed to learn.  And maybe it was the same for me.  Just because I go through something hard doesn't mean that I didn't hear God when I decided to embark on that path. Perhaps at times He, too, just points to the rain and allows me to proceed into something unwise because he knows that in healing from that experience, He can make me wiser. Perhaps He plans to weave that experience into the fabric of who I am to make me more like Christ. Bad experiences, like Bethany’s goosebumps, can become real wisdom-builders.  And God’s love is so great that He will not only transform the difficult experiences into something useful, but He will also grow me so I can be closer to Him and become the wise and mature person that He envisions me to be.

And that’s worth a little chill on a rainy day.

Being Mary for a Moment

Hi Friends,

Well, I did my two Mary monologues at church last Sunday during the whole fantastic, incredibly moving Great Joy Christmas program.  The whole program was just beautiful.  You can see it here:  

http://www.svcc.net/pages/page.asp?page_id=124344&programId=170296

Meanwhile, here's the text of the first Mary monologue -- adapted from the first chapter of my book, Wrestling with Wonder (coming out next Sept from Zondervan).  Mary asks some great questions for all of us this Christmas season!

MARY AND A MESSENGER

Christmas changes everything.  JESUS changes everything.  He changed me. 

I’m Mary.  I was his mother.  He changed this ordinary girl, with her ordinary life, in an ordinary village in Galilee.

            It was early in the morning, and my mother had gone to gather gossip near Nazareth’s well.  I stood by the grinding stone (much like today), my fingers sunk deep in the warm dough of the day's bread.  A sound rustled behind me.  I turned. 

And saw him.

            A man, but not a man. Like nothing I have ever seen before.  Tall and strong. Shining. Splendid.

            And absolutely terrifying.

            He looked at me, his gaze like fire in my soul. And he said:

            “Rejoice! Rejoice, favored one, the Lord is with you.”

            Rejoice?

            He said it again. “Do not be afraid. You have found favor with God.”

Me? Didn’t he know I was just an ordinary girl?

            Then, he whispered one single word: “Behold ...”

But what he wanted me to behold was impossible.

            He said, “Behold, you will conceive in the womb and will bear a son and you will call his  name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High and the Lord God will give him the throne of his father, David.  And he will rule over the house of Jacob into the ages and of his kingdom there will be no end!”

            What?! I grasped at just the first impossibility.  “How will this be? I’m, um, a virgin.”

            But he didn’t speak of men or of marriage.  He spoke of miracles. He told me the Holy Spirit himself would come upon me and God’s power would overshadow me. And this tiny little baby boy would be called holy, the very Son of God.

            An astounding promise.  But more than a promise. It was a call. A question. Would I leave all my plans, all my hopes, behind me?  Would I lay aside my ordinary life to embrace something impossible?

            “Nothing is impossible with God,” he said.

            Nothing!

            “No word from God will ever fail."

            Did I dare believe it? Do I dare say yes? … I knew what it meant. Nothing would be the same again. No one would understand. Could I bear that kind of shame? Could I bear their disbelief? …And more, could I bear that kind of beauty? Could I bear the wonder of it all?

            And in that ordinary moment, on an ordinary day, in my ordinary life, the heavens waited

 . . . Would I give my life for this great, impossible JOY?

What Kind of King is This??

Hi Friends,  

Merry Christmas season!!  We decorated our tree over the weekend and got out all our red and green … in hopes of preparing our hearts and minds for the celebration of the coming of Jesus, God incarnate, Emmanuel, God-with-us, into the world and into our lives.  How wonderful is that?!!?

Then, this coming Sunday, our church is having our Great Joy! Christmas event, with orchestra (Bryan, Joelle, and Bethany are all in the orchestra), choir, and two drama monologues.  I'm doing the monologues (my first time doing something like this!!).  I'm going to be dressed as Mary and will deliver the two monologues as her older self reflecting back.  (If you're in the Salinas area, I'll hope you'll come by -- 9am and 10:45am at Salinas Valley Community Church, 368 San Juan Grade Road).

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to share the second monologue here.  And while it's told from Mary's point of view, I think it holds questions for all of us.

As you prepare your heart for Christmas, perhaps this script (adapted from my upcoming Wrestling with Wonder book - yay!) will help you see Him in a deeper way.  I hope so!

So, here ya go:

Mary's Monologue: 

Christ was born.  Born in a barn, wrapped in rags, laid in a feeding trough.  We didn’t have a  palace, we didn’t even have a crib, let alone soft silk meant for a king.  The animals were our witnesses.  Lowly shepherds our first visitors. 

            And I thought . . . What kind of King is this?

            I held him in my arms. He nestled, and nuzzled. So normal. So real. He let out a cry, his mouth open, searching. I smiled and guided him to eat.  I gazed down at his pink cheeks, his stock of curly black hair. His eyes were closed, his lashes dark against his skin … this newborn son of mine.

Of God’s.

This … Messiah?

Rescuer. Deliverer. Redeemer. King … Baby.

What kind of King is this?

            He grew up, my Messiah-Son.  And was nothing like I expected.  He didn’t conquer Rome, he didn’t rule the nations, he didn’t raise an army or free Israel . . . at least not in the way I had dreamed.

            Instead, he asked me to face my deepest fear. My darkest doubt. My nightmare.

            A young man came to my door in the night. He came all disheveled and out of breath. He said, “They’ve arrested your son.” Men came—soldiers, crowds, but not only them, the priests came too, the very leaders of my people. They came by night to a garden with their clubs and torches and swords. And they took him.

            They took him to Gabbatha. The place of judgment.

            So, I went there too.  And I stood there, shaking, in a courtyard with a crowd with the sun beating down on us.  And my son, my Jesus, wavering on the platform before me.  I barely recognized him. His eye was swollen, his clothes bloody. He looked like a lamb already slaughtered.

            Oh, God, what kind of King is this?

            He did wear a purple robe, but it was to mock him. And on his head ... Oh ...  On his head was a crown, but it wasn’t a crown of gold, it was a crown made from the thorns of the akanthos bush. And blood ran down his forehead, his cheeks.

            Pilate held up his hand. “Behold … your king!” he shouted.

            But what kind of King is this?

            A king isn’t beaten.

            A king isn’t bloody.

            A king doesn’t die a criminal’s death.

            Or … or does He?

            Pilate spoke again. “What shall I do with this Jesus?”

            The question drove into me like a soul-piercing sword. What shall I do with this Jesus? What shall I do with a Son destined to die?
            What shall I do with this kind of King?