What If

"We must through many tribulations
enter the kingdom of God."
~ Acts 14:22 (NKJV)

Indeed, all who want to live a godly life
in union with Christ Jesus
will be persecuted.
~ 2 Timothy 3:12 (ISV)

And who is sufficient for these things?
~ 2 Corinthians 2:15-16 (NKJV)

← ↓ → . ← ↓ → . ← ↓ →

You, Lord, see.

The flaming arrows.
The rivers of waters.
The cost.

You, Lord, know the truth.

You know I bless Your name.
You know my will is to walk in Your ways.
You know my ailing heart is steadfast.

You, Lord, see my frailty falter.

How long, Lord?
How far, Lord?
How much, Lord?

You, Lord, hear my plea before I form it.

I said I can last no longer, go no farther, offer no more.
I confessed to seeing no way through.
I admitted my fear to go deeper.

What if the only way through is to go deeper?

(a question gentler than an answer)

I affirm, Lord, my trust in You.
I follow, Lord, where You lead.
I cling, Lord, to You alone.

^/\^ ~≈~ ^/\^ ~≈~ ^/\^ ~≈~ ^/\^

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.
For I am the LORD your God,
The Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
~ Isaiah 43:2-3 (NKJV)

"Be strong and of good courage,
do not fear nor be afraid of them;
for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you.
He will not leave you nor forsake you."
~ Deuteronomy 31:6 (NKJV)

The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears,
And delivers them out of all their troubles.
The LORD is near to those who have a broken heart,
And saves such as have a contrite spirit.
Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
But the LORD delivers him out of them all.
~ Psalm 34:17-19 (NKJV)

My Child

How is it possible to feel so old, and yet still feel like "a little child—I do not know how to go out or come in"?

I understand why You made this world so hard. Could sin not receive the full measure of its wages? And yet, Lord ... really? *sigh*

Whom have I in heaven but You?
And there is none upon earth that I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart fail;
But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
~ Psalm 73:25-26 (NKJV)

I love Your surprises, You know, even when You rebuke me. Your tenderness is unfathomable. Who but You would speak such words?

It's just that I'm so slow to learn, Lord. You surely understand why I would kick myself for having to learn the same lesson, over and over. If I will always choose You first, I suspect things would go easier.

And so I berate myself for being weak. I tell myself I'm stupid. I shake my head and roll my eyes. I'm harder on myself than I am on anyone else. I'd never in a million years think of speaking to another person the way I was speaking to myself.

And then, Your voice.

Don't speak of My child that way.

Why do You love me as You do?

I will go in the strength of the Lord GOD;
I will make mention of Your righteousness, of Yours only.
O God, You have taught me from my youth;
And to this day I declare Your wondrous works.
Now also when I am old and grayheaded,
O God, do not forsake me,
Until I declare Your strength to this generation,
Your power to everyone who is to come.
~ Psalm 71:16-18 (NKJV)

Thank You, Lord. You are my all in all. I love You more than I know.

I Do

Lord, You know how difficult it usually is to write here. You know how much this place feels like I'm put on display as a spectacle to the world, both to angels and to men, even more than my other blog can feel that way. I didn't realize that there would be so many of Your people who haven't heard Your voice yet, who wouldn't understand. *sigh*

Yet I've trusted You to use this place in someone else's life, however that might be. I've become grateful for the way You've used this "journal" in my own life, reminding me of how close You've been in some very dark hours.

You see how the darkness still wants me. I did provoke it, I suppose. You answered that prayer swiftly and surely and mightily. Would I be so bold as to dare open that door again? I suppose I would, for You know I can't abide to simply stand and watch someone suffer if I think I can do something to help...

But what about all the lesser darkness that came before, that never overcame me? Was my crazy love for You all the provocation necessary? How inadequate I've come to feel, in both love for You and ability to face even lesser darkness. C'mon, Lord—I'm just a little child! You see that I cannot discern between my right hand and my left. You see that I am not sufficient as Your "aroma of death leading to death, and the aroma of life leading to life." Who sends a little kid out into such battle? It's too big!

When I spread my hands before You yesterday with all this, You spoke with such gentle strength. "I have been with you." Yes, You certainly have. And You're way bigger than the battle, which belongs to You anyway.

I want to feel my sufficiency in You again. I find I'm afraid to. What if it gives me that kind of boldness again? It seems safer to feel insufficient. Is the heat of war behind me, or do You only train me? (A little rest would be nice ...)

Thank You for loving me so much bigger than I'll ever comprehend. Thank You for the ways You assure me of that. I'm grateful for the reminders.

Like two days ago, when we brought home Elizabeth's new violin—the one she should have had before now instead of using that beginner one as she's advanced far beyond beginner. (Thanks so much for providing it BTW. What a miracle all that was!) I love her music so much. To my ear it already sounded lovely. And then she began playing on an instrument that took the same violinist, the same notes, the same song, and made them richer, fuller, gentler, and oh so sweet. What a difference!

She could hardly stop playing. As I listened to that sweet music, I became aware of how much different I'll look someday. I told You that I can hardly wait until the day when the stench of all the sin I hate so much no longer clings to me, when I no longer fail to behave as Jesus would, when my love for You is perfected. I told You that I want You to be able to see me as richer, fuller, gentler, and oh so sweet.

Only the power of Your precious Son's blood could make possible Your reply.

"I do."

Beyond Your Ability

He has redeemed my soul in peace
from the battle that was against me,
For there were many against me...
Cast your burden on the LORD,
And He shall sustain you;
He shall never permit the righteous to be moved.
~ Psalms 55:18,22 (NKJV)

Thank You, Lord, for the healing I've experienced. Thank You for all the healing yet to come. Thank You for carrying me when I felt too weak to move.

Thank You for showing me, once again, that You can be trusted; that even when the fire feels too intense to bear, the word You have spoken to me holds firm: "You will not be tested beyond your ability to stand."

Therefore humble yourselves
under the sovereign hand of God,
that He may lift you up at the right time,
having cast all your anxiety upon Him,
for His concern is about you.
~ 1 Peter 5:6-7 (author)

It Will Be Better

Place:
Prayer Closet

I haven't stopped struggling with a feeling of being unworthy to draw as closely to God as I've been for so long. I've been meditating on this verse and its context:

When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!"
(Luke 5:8 NKJV)

I've often identified with Peter. It seems to me that he wants desperately to be a godly man. Perhaps he tries too hard. He is continually tripped up over his foot in his mouth—by being confronted with his inherent sinfulness.

In the Scriptures, I can feel Peter's great love for Jesus. I empathize with how horrible Peter would have felt to have declared with sincere passion that he would follow the Lord anywhere, and then falter in the moment of testing. I think of Peter plunging into the sea and rushing to shore when Jesus appears after His resurrection, and their verbal wrestling over Peter's love.

Then the Lord surprises me with a question.

Abba whisper:
Do you still love Me?

I cannot answer. I want to say, like Peter, "Lord, You know all things—You know I love you." But I've fallen so far short in expressing love that I don't feel I have the right to assert my love, even as I can feel it burning within my heart.

Abba whisper:
Why do you not come closer?

I have to think for a long time. The question has been dogging me for months. I've come up with many reasons, and I search my heart for the root of the matter.

It's one thing to lose my temper or have some other outward action confront me with a display of the sinfulness I still carry with me. It's another to have my Lord's words of rebuke sear my soul with revelation of my inner iniquity—and with expression of His displeasure.

I know I'm forgiven for all my sins, past and future. I also know that the iniquity of my flesh is just as present. I hate myself to know I'm just as likely to keep stumbling in front of the holy God I love.

Me:
I fear Your displeasure.

I think of the phrase I've seen in Scripture, "Your hot displeasure." I look it up and read two Psalms where it appears, begninning to end. I linger over these words.

O LORD, do not rebuke me in Your wrath,
Nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure!
For Your arrows pierce me deeply,
And Your hand presses me down.
There is no soundness in my flesh
Because of Your anger,
Nor any health in my bones
Because of my sin.
For my iniquities have gone over my head;
Like a heavy burden they are too heavy for me.
(Psalms 38:1-4 NKJV)

I think to myself that if the Lord simply spoke word of affirmation, words of favor, I could feel it safe to again draw as close as I have. I feel I cannot presume upon His favor until He extends the sceptre. I think of how many times and ways He has affirmed me in the past and how I wish He would do so now. But that is not what He offers.

Abba whisper:
You want only a Father's affirmation and not the rebuke?

Again, I cannot answer. I know His many affirmations have been far more numerous and greater than His few rebukes, even more than that last, strongest rebuke.

Me:
I just want the sweet fellowship again. It won't be the same now.

Abba whisper:
It will be better.

I know what He speaks is true. I don't disbelieve. But I'm so discouraged to know my weakness that I don't know how to engage myself with the Lord. He's so strong. His might overwhelms me.

Me:
I'm so weak. I just want You to carry me.

Abba whisper:
I have been. I want you to walk with Me.

Prayer:
Lord, I feel too weak to walk with Someone as mighty as You. I once wanted to do great things for You because of my great debt to Your Love, to Your Grace. I used to leap up onto the altar. It's all I can do to crawl onto the altar now that I understand what a shamefully blemished sacrifice I am. You deserve better. Please help me in my weakness. Please help me understand how to see myself as You see me, neither putting myself down nor puffing myself up. If You ask me to walk with You, please help me rise to Your steady pace, with the unforced spring in my step that I used to have. Please let me be Your joy.

Denial-Anger-Bargaining-Depression-ACCEPTANCE

Lord, it's said that many people who suffer catastrophic loss go through up to five stages of profound grief. Do we even recognize the process when the bottom falls out of our world and our heart feels it has nothing upon which to rest as each agonizing beat thuds in our chest?

Is that what Your grief feels like, but without the human process?

Might I have avoided the denial if I'd have been walking more closely in Your shadow? Or would I be too prideful and selfish to recognize my problems anyway? I don't want to beat myself up any more, but I also don't want to miss whatever You might still teach me there.

I suppose the downright sinful part was the anger toward You. I know it only happened a few times, in moments of greatest pain—like an injured animal which bites its beloved master. But I'm not an animal. How could I ever be angry with You for even a moment? I still can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry, Lord. You know I love You. I don't ever want to question You again.

Just how did I manage to touch You when I bargained? When I became desperate for something to change, then dug in my heels and started fasting? You said fasting was not the means to manipulate You, and I said yeah I guess I knew that but kept fasting because I wasn't willing to keep going the way it was. And then You said fasting wasn't a means by which You'd force someone else to move and I said okay whatever but I've got to do something and so I kept fasting. And then another blow came and I simply gave up. I was so broken, Lord, so very broken ...

But things did start to change.

Was there a way to lie shattered and broken without lapsing into depression? Or is that exactly the place from which You wanted me to cry out, "Though He slay me, yet I will hope in Him"—? Did my wail reach the gates of Hell when I told the devil, "Go ahead. Keep up your crap. You might convince me all joy in life is over. You might know where to tempt me and how to exploit my weaknesses and make me stumble. You've made me wish I was dead. But you will not make me curse God! My God is good, and He is good all the time!"

My Lord, I know I have Your acceptance. Does Your will have mine yet? I speak it more often than I feel it. It's been really hard, Abba. I'm afraid to believe I've really heard You speak reassurance, because I still remember Your rebuke. I know You had to do that. But it also hurt more than everything else combined, to see my sinfulness the way You do and feel Your displeasure.

I know Your acceptance is so much bigger than Your displeasure. Thank You for showing me acceptance this day.

Thank You that Your displeasure only touched me and shall not prevail, because of Jesus. Please show me how to walk in Your acceptance, Abba. Please shield my heart from the darkness which could ever again prompt Your displeasure.

Please be gentle with me, my Lord; for I am so small and broken and weak, and You are so great and glorious and mighty.

For You have hidden Your face from us,
And have consumed us because of our iniquities.
But now, O LORD, You are our Father;
We are the clay, and You our potter;
And all we are the work of Your hand.
Do not be furious, O LORD,
Nor remember iniquity forever;
Indeed, please look—we all are Your people!
~ Isaiah 64:7-9 (NKJV)

It's Not Over Yet

Sunday night our church's choir, orchestra and drama team will present a production titled "Shelter." As in, "The Lord is our Shelter."

After the choir's opening song, I will dramatically present Isaiah 40. It's not actually the entire chapter, because the running time for thirty-one long verses was about five and a half minutes, and we omitted a portion to get it down to just over three minutes.

Three minutes is quite brief. Most any song you'd listen to lasts longer. You might take that long to read this post if you make it to the end. It's taken me many hours to memorize the verses I'll present in three short minutes, praying I get them right.

It's taken me nearly half a century to learn their message, and I definitely don't have that down yet.

Isaiah 40 begins with the words, " 'Comfort, yes, comfort My people!' says your God. 'Speak comfort ...' " It ends with the familiar assurance that "those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ... mount up with wings like eagles ..."

Isaiah 40 has been speaking to me personally since I retreated to a closet at church back on a January Wednesday and the Lord drew my attention to the question of Isaiah 40:27: "Why do you say ... 'My way is hidden from the Lord, and my just claim is passed over by my God' " ?

It seems my entire life has been spent waiting for one important thing or another. In recent months, I've thought more than once that I really have reached my limit of waiting (as if I have a choice). One night in April I cried and pleaded and whined and sobbed as I begged the Lord to please let me bring something important in my life to successful completion.

Something bigger than the meal that takes an hour to prepare and vanishes within moments. Something bigger than spending days of ripping apart old shrubs and planting bulbs that bloom for a few days each year and look awful year round because I can't get time to weed and thin them. Something bigger than memorizing three-plus minutes of Scripture and presenting it and having it well-received before it passes from the memory of its hearers.

Please, Lord, can't I please get it right in something important like relationships? Because I'm tired of hurting people and I'm tired of hurting and I'm just plain tired of trying.

I suppose the Lord waits longer than any of us for all He wants to complete in relationships. I suppose He must smile with empathetic amusement at my whining.

That night in April, He was kind enough to provide a reply.

It's not over yet.

Which is His reassuring way of saying the waiting isn't over yet, but the results will be worth the wait.

I do trust Him, if I trust nothing else.

So I have memorized Scripture. I will speak to others His Word which has spoken to me, and I will pray that they catch a glimpse of the Lord's reassurance in the waiting.

This is That

Life has held tough new challenges lately, and I've not felt the strength to meet them.

Worst has been that I'm not getting to my prayer closet as early and as undistracted as necessary for me to receive sufficient strength from the Lord to meet those challenges. I've been fighting weary apathy, devoid of the energy and passion more my character.

That weary apathy has been an enemy to face each morning. I've prayed for the Lord to awaken me as early as possible, when He knows I've had as much sleep as I need, so that I'll have time to meet Him and escape a downward vortex which the enemy says has entangled me.

The Lord has answered that prayer in ways He knows I can't resist—birdsong, thunder, cuddles.

My Daniel is five. He goes long stretches without a nighttime appearance in our room. Then he'll have a night when he awakens to use the bathroom, and not quite make it back to his own bed. Other times, he simply shows up inexplicably, snuggles into my arms quietly, and goes back to sleep.

He did so a few days ago at about the time morning light was making its own appearance. The clock display read 5:46—not too early to get up by any means. But it felt so good to cuddle Daniel's sleeping warmth. It gave my soul peace and joy and love. This was something real and tangible and strangely comforting, as only a small child might give comfort to an adult.

My prayer closet came to mind, and I offered the Lord, but Daniel's here.

He replied, this is that.

And I understood at once that my appearance in the prayer closet feels as good to Him as Daniel felt to me.

I relished the joy of Daniel's presence a few moments longer, then went to cuddle the Lord.

Why do I ever resist Him?

Why does He keep pursuing me?

He is so, so faithful. So merciful. So loving.

You Didn't Ask

Thurs, Feb 18, morning

Place:
Prayer closet. I've been praying about many things. I want to hear the Lord's voice but sense this is a time that His Spirit may only speak with understanding of the heart and not with words. My prayers turn to some difficult blog posts I've been working on about suffering, and about the Q&A I've been struggling with on how Christians should treat homosexuals. The Lord is indeed providing understanding, but I do not hear his voice even after much prayer.

My prayer:
I want to get this right. I want to provide an answer that honors You.

Abba whisper:
You didn't ask.

[I realize I have not actually asked for the needed words, but have simply been relying on Him to provide them.]

Me:
I'm asking now. Please show me what to say.

[The understanding in my heart is that I need to apologize on behalf of other Christians. I formulate the needed answer. I feel so sad for all the hurt I start to cry.]

Me:
Lord, I'm so small for this task. So many misunderstandings. So many hurtful words. I know You must be so disappointed in us. I ask You to please go before me. Please go to every single individual who will read these words. Please give each and every one of them the right spirit to receive them. Please bring to this site by whatever means possible the exact people who need to see these words, both Christians and homosexuals. Dear God, please forgive us for how we grieve You with our selfishness. Please bring healing. Please draw people to Yourself. Please, Lord, be glorified in this. This post has been so difficult to compose. I beg You to use it to work unity, forgiveness, and love. Please, Father, teach us to love one another.

Never Enough

Sat, Feb 13, morning

Place:
Prayer Closet. My thoughts turn to the blog post I did for today on why a good God allows suffering.

My prayer:
How did I do? Did You show?

[There is silence. I pray some more, but my heart comes back to the same question.]

Me:
Did I do justice to You? Did Your goodness come through in my words?

Abba Whisper:
For some there is never enough.

[I feel God's sadness. My heart is moved to tell Him how good He is.]

Me:
You are good.
[I hear in my head the song "We Worship You" as I'm praying]
You let us live when we prove how evil we are, so we might accept Your redemption.
[I begin writing, so I can record everything.]
Everything You did at Calvary—so much—proved Your love and goodness.
(Holy Spirit, help me!)
You come to live within us. [with amazement]
You put Your breath in us. [my heart thinks of what it must have been like when the Lord created Adam and breathed life into him]
You give us people to love us when we're so impossible.
You make our wildest dreams come true when we honor You.
You pour out pleasure for us in all creation.
[My prayer time is interrupted for the second time to help kids get going who need to leave in a few minutes. I need to go but can't tear myself away yet.]
You provide our every need.
You supply so many wants.
You heal.
You restore.
Your love never fails or leaves us.
["We Worship You" has not stopped playing in my head. I pause praying to sing part of it in my heart.]
Lord You are good and Your mercy endureth forever.
Lord You are good and Your mercy endureth forever.
People from every nation and tongue
From every generation to come
We worship You
Hallelu Yah!
Hallelu Yah!
We worship You for Who You are
And You are good!
All the time
[I continue my own praying while the song keeps playing in the background of my mind]
You ask so little of us when You've done so much.
You forgive our continual failings.
You include us in Your glory.
You want us.
Oh Lord, despite all my failings, I love You.
[I feel my love for the Lord well up inside me.]
Father, it's so hard to be away from You.

Abba Whisper:
It needs to.

Me:
Why? Why can't our souls be satisfied?

Abba:
That's how love is.

Scripture comes to mind:
Love is as strong as death,
Jealousy as severe as Sheol;
Its flames are flames of fire,
The very flame of Yah.
(Song of Solomon 8:6, author)

Me:
I hear You less when I'm not suffering.

Abba:
You listen less.

Me:
I have to go. Help me. Help me listen more.

[I think of my day. I need to get my kids to church for a woodworking day on their AWANA Grand Prix cars. Then grocery shopping. Then food prep for a birthday celebration. Then get my daughter to a violin audition. Then birthday celebration. Then a funeral for a police officer my husband works with, who was going through a bitter divorce and committed suicide.]

Me:
Use me today? Please?

[On my way to the grocery store the next song that comes up on my CD player is one I play over and over, singing as a prayer:]

Abba, Father
My loving Father
I've come to worship You
To say 'I love You'
To lift my hands up to You
I've come to worship You
I am Your child
Born of Your Spirit
Called by Your name
Chosen by Your hand
I belong to You

Abba, Father
Our loving Father
We've come to worship You
To say 'We love You'
To lift our hands up to You
We've come to worship You
We are Your children
Born of Your Spirit
Called by Your name
Chosen by Your hand
We belong to You *

* Lyrics of "Abba Father" © 1998 Vineyard Music Group

Prayer Closet

Wed, Feb 10, morning

Place:
Prayer closet. I'm thinking about the questions I've had from people about my prayer closet, especially since I've started this blog, and am bringing before the Lord what to say about it. I am thinking about what this prayer closet is to me.

Scripture:
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret ...
(Matthew 6:6 KJV)

My prayer:
Father, how do I describe it?

Abba whisper:
You know.

[I consider that despite being enclosed by no more than a curtain, this is a private place to meet God on the most intimate level. It is a private chamber for Him and me.]

Me:
What is this place to You?

Abba [I sense sadness in Him]:
Have you forgotten the pleasure?

[I know He means the pleasure of intimacy. I feel sad too, to think of days I've hesitated to be here, or been distracted. I don't specifically pray, but I feel Him knowing my thoughts.]

Abba:
You know how to lock a bedroom door, how to shut out distractions there.

[I understand His reference to marital intimacy, and the comparison to me being hesitant or distracted here.]

Me:
You're right. I'm sorry.

[I spend some time reminiscing on the many hours of joy I've had here, on all the times I could hardly wait to get here, could hardly tear myself away.]

Me:
Please help me rediscover the joy of meeting You here without fear of pain, without hesitation, without distraction. [Pause. I'm thinking again about how to describe this to readers.] Please help me know how to describe that being here is a pleasure not a duty, the way sex should be.

Abba:
You just did.

Me:
I can't say that! I can't compare this to sex so openly!

Abba:
It's what they'll understand.

[My mind is spinning. I'm grasping for words to veil the intimacy in a more reserved manner.]

Abba:
Isn't that how you meet Me here? Make the comparison.

Me:
When I come here, I am exposed to You at the same time I am at ease with You. I freely offer myself to You.

[silence]

Me:
You want me to say that?!

Abba:
Just speak the truth.

Annie's Song

Tues, Feb 9, 6:30 am

Place:
Lying in bed. I just woke up. When I have sufficient presence of mind, I bless to the Lord with my first conscious thought. I do so today:

Me (whispered aloud in Hebrew):
Baruch ata Adonai Yad He Vav He Eliohe-nu, Elyon Melach ha-Olam, Eli.

Translation:
**Blessed are You YHWH our God, Most High King of time and eternity—my God.

Abba whisper:
Prove it.

[I know He means my prayer closet. I close my eyes for just a moment, trying to wake up. I think I momentarily doze off.]

Abba whisper:
Meet Me.

[I get up and go to my prayer closet. It's cold here, next to a leaky old front door, in the part of the house opposite our wood stove. I turn on the space heater and lay my face on the floor.]

My prayer:
I'm here.

[I wait to see if the Lord will speak again. He doesn't.]

Me:
I'm here. And I'll continue to bless Your name, in the valley, in the desert place.

[The Lord is silent, though I can feel His presence. I call to mind a song with special meaning between me and God. I sing the words mentally, as a prayer, in the order they come to mind:]

On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be Your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

[I'm still waking up, trying to remember the words about sunshine. I go through the same words over and over, but I can't remember the words about sunshine. I look them up on my iPod, and then mentally sing whole song, skipping the chorus:]

My mentally sung prayer:
Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name
Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name
Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name*

Me:
I've not failed to bless Your name. As long as You give me breath and grace to do so, I'll not fail to bless Your name.

[I think about the difficult times I've gone through, in which the Lord has brought this song to me. My mind wanders to the blog post I did Saturday for Bullets & Butterflies—"Why Pray"—and the ensuing discussion in the comments about God's love and need for us.]

Me:
Please tell me, Lord. Do you need us? If I'm wrong I'll admit it.

[The Lord is silent. I think more about the words I quoted in one of my comments: "Mature love says I need you because I love You."]

Me:
Is it true, Lord? Do You love us enough to need us?

[The Lord remains silent, but I can feel His great love. I reverse the words (the Spirit's leading I think): Do I love the Lord enough to need Him for that reason alone?]

Me:
Yes, Lord. I love You. I need You. I need You more than the air I breathe. I love You more than I love life itself. I love You more than anyone else, more than anything else.

[I feel the Lord bring to mind all the distractions that have sometimes prevented me meeting Him in my prayer closet in the morning.]

Me:
Yes, Lord. I need You, I love You more than all those other things. Please help me remember that when I get distracted.

[The Lord remains silent. I begin to tell Him all the reasons I love Him, I need Him.]

Me:
Please tell me, Lord. If I'm wrong I'll admit it. Do You need us?

The Lord's whisper:
I need to be needed.

[I wonder for a moment if it was the Lord's voice or my own, because of the many ways those words have come up between my husband and me in recent weeks.]

Me:
Lord, please tell me. I need to know if it's You speaking. Do You need us?

The Lord:
I need to be needed.

Me:
Please give me other words so they'll believe they're true. ["they" being blog readers.]

The Lord:
They don't need to believe. You believe.

[I call to mind the first time I understood God's need for us, and the ways it was made clear. I call to mind one way I recently experienced profound grief, and the way I understood it to be the Lord's own grief. It occurs to me that just now when I heard the words "I need to be needed," I didn't distinguish the voice of the Father or the Lord Jesus. But I wasn't paying attention.]

Me:
Jesus, was that You speaking?

[I don't hear the Lord speak, but all I can think of is Calvary, how much I needed it, how grateful I am for Jesus' blood. And then another song comes to mind. I mentally sing it as a prayer to the Lord, thinking of each experience the song describes, and of Him being so much better:]

You fill up my senses
like a night in the forest
like the mountains in springtime,
like a walk in the rain
like a storm in the desert,
like a sleepy blue ocean
You fill up my senses,
come fill me again.
Come let me love You,
let me give my life to You
let me drown in Your laughter,
let me die in Your arms
let me lay down beside You,
let me always be with You
come let me love You,
come love me again. **

* "Blessed be the Name of the Lord" lyrics © 2005 Matt Redman, Six Step Records
** "Annie's Song" lyrics © 1974 John Denver, RCA Records

Poor in Spirit

Sat, Feb 6, morning

Place:
Lying on my back in bed. I feel the Lord tugging me toward the prayer closet. I don't want to go.

My prayer:
I hate this emptiness. I hate having no spirit left in me.

Abba whisper:
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.

Me:
The kingdom is so far away.

Abba:
The kingdom is within you.

Me:
I've no strength to lay hold of it. I was once fearless. Now I'm afraid of a prayer closet.

Abba:
What are you afraid of?

Me:
Of what else You'll take away.

Abba:
You know I'll return more than I ask.

[I turn on my side. I can't make up my mind if I'm about to roll out of bed or trying to hide.]

Abba:
I won't force you.

[I lie there silently.]

Abba:
And I won't beg.

[My heart is pricked that I'm refusing my Lord. I get out of bed and go to the prayer closet. I crouch down and lay on my face.]

Me:
Here I am. But there's none of me left.

Abba:
That's where I need you. That's where we start.

Me [feeling hopeful]:
Are we done entering the valley? Are we on our way out yet?

Abba:
Don't worry about My timing. [Pause] Whatever keeps you from being here [prayer closet] is an idol.

[I think of all the reasons I'm sometimes not here. This is old stuff that the Lord and I have already been over.]

Me:
A lot of things have been idols.

Abba:
You can make idols of My gifts.

Me:
And that's when I lose joy in them.

Abba:
You know My jealousy. Even your joy is an idol if it's not in Me.

Me:
It's so hard down here. So many distractions. Not like Heaven. [I stifle tears to think about how much I love the Lord, how much I long to be with Him.] In Heaven I'll be able to love You perfectly.

Abba:
You prove your love for Me here, amid the distractions.

Valley of the Shadow

Fri, Feb 5, 11am

Scripture:
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
(Psalms 23:4 KJV)

Place:
In the shower, the only safe place to go in a house full of people when crying becomes sobbing. I've mentally reviewed how I'm going to close down this blog and have already decided to do so. My only obstacle is I need permission. I'm certain that I'm broken enough to get it.

My prayer:
I've done what You asked. I showed what it is to hear Your voice. I'm listening better now. To keep sharing publicly is too exposing. I need to lay this down. I need Your permission to let go of the blog. You're still taking me into the valley. We're not heading out yet. There's no light to share.

Abba whisper:
People need to see what it is to walk through the valley.

Me:
It's too dark too share. I'm begging You to let me go. I'm pleading with You. Please hear my cry. Please choose someone else.

Abba:
I already chose you.

Me:
Then let me share later, like David. His psalms are on display after we know the outcome. It's too dark right now.

Abba:
You do know the outcome. You work from victory [Calvary] not toward it.

Me:
I have nothing to share in this. I can't put this ugly mess on display.

Abba:
My Son was put on display.

Me:
I HAVE NOTHING INSIDE ME TO GIVE RIGHT NOW !!

Abba:
You have Me. You always have Me. I am enough.

Hard to Listen

Thurs, Feb 4, morning

Place:
Prayer closet

My prayer:
Seems like the higher the summits I reach, the deeper the valleys—I always have to come back to the bottom, to my core, to the same deep pit I started from.

Mental picture:
Colorado valley, with steep mountain walls reaching both low and high.

Spirit whisper:
The valley floor is still a mile high.

The better part of the next hour is spent reading the Bible, praying, and seeking understanding for a piece to be written for Bullets & Butterflies. I leave the prayer closet for an interruption, then wander into the bedroom and sink down into a chair. I feel tired.

My prayer:
You're not a genie I can just call up on demand. I need You to talk to me. I don't seem to be hearing Your voice.

Abba whisper:
You know where to find Me.

I go back to the prayer closet. I'm trying to pray but feel like I'm wandering in circles through clouds.

Me:
You're hard to hear.

Abba:
You're hard to listen.

More mental wandering.

Me:
You give and take away. It’s hard when You take away.

Abba:
Isn’t what I give back always better?

Me:
It’s all a muddle right now, a mess.

Abba:
I like to clean up messes. I chose you, didn't I?

Me:
That's not funny. I feel like all I'm hearing is my own voice. If You want me to blog prayer I need to hear from You. And if it's not going to sound contrived, I need to hear what wouldn't come from me.

Abba:
This is not a game.

(I sit quietly a while, feeling chastised for being demanding. Then I pray for spiritual protection, and intercede for others.)

Me (an hour later, while in the car, thinking about this blog):
I don't want to be embarrassed to have started something I can't follow through on.

Abba:
It isn't about them. It's about Me. You pay closer attention to Me now. You listen more carefully for My voice.

Me:
You had me do a blog so I'd listen better?

Abba:
Whatever it takes.

Me:
Argh! [pause] You’re being hard on me.

Abba:
You can take it. I’m in you.

Made You Laugh

Mon, Feb 1, 5:30pm

Place:
Sitting at internet computer. I’m yet again overwhelmed by relationship challenges and have been crying. I just posted a tweet:
"I am only as strong as I give God permission to be in me." ~ @PeterPollock // I'm SO needing to remember this today.

My prayer [still crying]:
I don't see how blogging prayer is going to work. I can't even share half the crap I'm bringing to You right now.

Abba whisper:
You think I'm not big enough.

Me:
I'M not big enough.

Abba:
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Me:
God, can't You pick someone else?

Abba:
That line's never worked with Me.

Me:
[laughter through tears] Yeah, I know.

Abba:
I made you laugh. [pause] And there's a smile.

Me:
[with resignation] I eye roll You. [sigh, stop crying] Thanks. [wait a bit] Seriously, there’s no way I can share half this stuff.

Abba:
Share the other half.

Me:
I hate arguing with You. You always win.

Abba:
Uh-huh. [pause] You just smiled again.

Me:
You’re doing that on purpose.
[light bulb goes on]
You don’t want me to be sad.

Abba:
Huh-uh. [pause] Because I love you.

Me:
I know. [pause] I love You, too.

My Voice

Mon, Feb 1, 7:00am

Place:
Lying in bed. I've been awake for half an hour, mentally chatting at the Lord, thinking about posts I've already put on the new blog, reviewing all the details in His presence. I've been lying here long enough.

My prayer:
I don't know I don't know I don't know. Is this what I should do, Lord? It feels WAY too intimate.

Abba whisper:
Just show what it is to hear My voice.

Me:
This is too much me. I'll talk about You. But this is way too much 'me' to be comfortable.

Abba whisper:
People need it.

Me:
I don't want to cheapen it [talking to You]. And transparency is one thing. But this. This is too much.

Abba whisper:
And My Son?

Mental recollection:
Jesus in Gethsemane: The Son of Man, utterly transparent. [My argument is effectively invalidated.]

Me:
They'll think I'm nuts.

Abba whisper:
Do I care?

Me:
[mental laughter] No. [very long pause] Okay, You win. And, yes, I'm getting up.

Amazing Grace

Fri, Jan 29, about 9pm

Place:
Retirement party at a bar. Lots of cigarette haze. A guy sitting at the bar tried to be friendly with me when I went to get utensils the waitress forgot. Mediocre Karaoke setup does little for the atmosphere. I'm sitting with my husband and some acquaintances.

Spirit's whisper:
Amazing Grace

Action:
Continue conversation for several minutes.

Spirit's whisper:
Amazing Grace

Prayer:
It that You, Lord? (I examine Karaoke setup again.) No way they've got "Amazing Grace" in the Karaoke book.

Mental picture:
Scene from the movie Amazing Grace when William Wilburforce sings the song "Amazing Grace" in a bar.

Prayer:
That is You. [mental eye roll] Okay, if they've got Amazing Grace in that book I'll sing it.

Action:
Go check Karaoke listings. "Amazing Grace (traditional)" appears. I fill out a request slip, and confirm with the operator that he'll let me sing it. I then tell a friend from church what I'm going to do and ask him to pray. I go back to my table and pray as well. When my name is called, I get up, dedicate the song to the guest of honor (who said he wouldn't go to church again until he retires), and sing "Amazing Grace"—four verses plus a repeat of the first verse. When I'm done, I go and hug the guest of honor.

Prayer:
Thank You, Lord. Thank You for the chance to minister. I've missed it so much.

Bound Up With Me

Wed, Jan 24 about 7:30 pm

Place:
I feel dead inside. I'm exhausted by grieving. I've skipped out on drama practice to seek a quiet place to read the Bible that's always given me comfort. If there's an isolated and unoccupied room at church on Wednesday night I've no idea where it is. My drama director suggests I locate the custodian and have him unlock a closet for me. A few feet from where I'm standing, I notice that the missionary closet has inadvertently been left open and I slip into it.

Scripture, Isaiah 40 (entire chapter); final verses, Isaiah 40:29-31 (NKJV):
He gives power to the weak,
And to those who have no might He increases strength.
Even the youths shall faint and be weary,
And the young men shall utterly fall,
But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,
They shall run and not be weary,
They shall walk and not faint.

Feeling:
There's something here I missed.

Prayer:
Okay, Lord, what do You want me to see that I'm missing?

Action:
Read chapter again. Reach final verses again.

Prayer:
I am waiting on You. Waiting. Bound together with You. Waiting, waiting, waiting and I don't even know what I'm waiting for or how much longer I can wait. I'm tired of feeling dead inside every evening when it's time to post and I can't post and Lord! I'm just sad and I don't want to be sad anymore.

*silence*

Prayer:
I'm still missing something, aren't I?

Spirit's whisper:
What's the context?

Action:
Start reading backwards from chapter's end until I hit verse 27.

Scripture, Isaiah 40:27 (NKJV):
Why do you say, O Jacob,
And speak, O Israel:
"My way is hidden from the LORD,
And my just claim is passed over by my God"?

Understanding from Spirit:
The Lord is bound up with me. He is here with me. He is feeling everything I am. I need to wait. I need to have peace about His work, His timing.

Prayer:
Okay, Lord. Okay.

Feeling:
Peace.

Wherever You Are

Sun, Jan 24, 6pm

Place:
Alone in a hotel room where I've come to pray and fast overnight

Prayer:
Dear God, I need to hear Your voice right now. I don't know what to do or even think. I beg You to help me.

Jesus whisper:
Are you willing to go through this suffering with Me?

Prayer:
Oh God, please, there's more? I can't do anymore.

Understanding from Spirit:
We share joys with many. We share grief with few.

Prayer:
Yes, Lord. I'll go wherever You are. I only want to be wherever You are.

Feeling:
Overwhelming peace and comfort.