A collision of the South and the Northwest
“Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied.”
Isaiah 53:11a
Go ahead.
Make your list.
Those things you don’t have.
The things you’ve done wrong.
The things the world has done to you.
The things you could never accept. Not in a million years.
A friend recently shared a quote from Paul Miller that I liked. It’s from a book on prayer. “Every minute spent in prayer is one less minute where you can be doing something productive. The act of praying means you have to rely more on God.”
To make space for prayer, we have to stop what we’re doing. But we don’t just stop what we’re doing. We have to stop thinking about all the things we think we need to do. We have to train our minds to be quiet and still before the Lord. It’s a submission. A humility.
Everywhere I turned, I saw a prayer request. A need.
When we were in India, part of my work was crafting honest requests on behalf of my family in a creative way. These requests were sent to people who supported us, for the purpose of making our needs known so that our team could come around us in prayer.
Another part of my work was sorting newsletters from families living all over South Asia to develop story ideas. Sometimes it would be 80 newsletters per month, two to three pages each. And, that’s just the people I didn’t know. There would be another 20 or so from people I knew personally.
At first, I felt like I should pray through each newsletter I received. Then, I allowed myself to focus on the people I knew personally. I felt like I should care about each family, each person. Anything less seemed insincere. But, I couldn’t do it.
It took me a long time to realize that God never intended to use me to meet everyone’s needs. Not even all of the needs of all of the people I am blessed to know. Continue reading “When God is silent”
I wrote some about grief in my last post and will probably write more another time. In fact, you may get tired of hearing me talk about grief, because it’s something God is using to strip away the parts of my soul He wants to restore.
Allowing myself to grieve is submitting to the life God is giving me. And, no, it’s not easy or passive. It’s painful. A submission of my mind and will to see my circumstances as God’s faithful provision. A stark contrast to my instinctive toddler response of sitting in the middle of the living room, screaming, “I don’t want this. Give me what I want and give it to me now!” or the one where I’m withdrawn, curled up in bed and can’t remember the steps to starting my day.
I love this hymn, Whate’er my God Ordains is Right. I’ve posted the words below. Continue reading “Whate’er my God ordains is right”
A year ago this March, I arrived in the US after spending two years abroad. In India. I spent two years in India. It doesn’t seem real some days, but there are scars you can’t see easily.
One is literally on my skin from the time I had a bump removed and biopsied from my finger. I didn’t think I was brave enough to have a medical procedure done in a foreign country. Would you believe the doctor’s name was Dr. Job — like the guy in the Bible that is known for his suffering? My finger gets tight now when it’s really hot outside. I can’t forget Dr. Job. Continue reading “Scars, Part 1”