Mind-Binding Quote of the Day-A Storm is Coming

I've been feeling like I'm in the middle of a few storms right now.

A Storm in my funding (I'm in a deficit)
A Storm in conversations around the philosophy and ideology of Small Groups and their purpose.
A Storm in the parenting of a three year old who only seems to know how to yell and scream in response to all parenting strategies. And in the parenting of a four year old who dissolves into tears at the smallest thing. And in the parenting of a seven year old who sometimes has the attitude of a 15 year old with a romantic sensibility to match.

Storms make me angry. They make me weary, and eventually they make me despair.

But in the book, "Under the Unpredictable Plant" by Eugene Peterson, I find a different perspective on storms, and a different perspective on myself. Peterson is unpacking the story of Jonah in the book and using Jonah's story to help ministers understand their own story.

Jonah faced a big storm (Jonah 1), one that got him thrown overboard by his ship mates. Peterson compares Jonah's reaction to his storm with Paul's reaction to a similar storm in Acts 27. One of the biggest differences between the two ministers is that one faces his storm with prayer, and one does not. Peterson concludes the chapter by saying this about prayer:

Prayer is the connecting thread binding these sea storm stories; prayer is the articulation of human response to the word of God, the word that creates and saves. The sea storms that call into question our vocations turn out to be the means of vocational recovery. They expose us to what we cannot manage. We are returned to primordial chaos...where we submit our lives to the world-making word of God. These storms are not simply bad weather; they are the exposure of our lives to the brooding, hovering wind/spirit of God. In the storm we are reduced to what is elemental, and the ultimate elemental is God. And so prayer emerges as the single act that has to do with God. Our vocations are God-called, God-shaped lifework. The moment we drift away from dealing with God primarily (and not merely peripherally), we are no longer living vocationally, no longer living in conscious, willing participatory relation with the vast reality that constitutes our lives and the entire world around us. The storm either exposes the futility of our work (as in Jonah) or confirms it (as in Paul). In either case, the storm forces the awareness that God constitutes our work, and it disabuses us of any suggestion that in our work we can avoid or manipulate God. Once that is established we are ready to learn the spirituality that is adequate to our vocation, working truly, easily, fearlessly, without ambition or anxiety, without denial or sloth.

These storms, all storms actually, are good for me. They remind me that I am not God-no matter how hard I try- and storms make me STOP and acknowledge that I'm acting god-like. Storms hopefully press me to pray because there is only one Being in my world who can calm the storm. And that is the real and Living God.

I would encourage you to check out this book-if you are a minister, a parent or a human. We all have a calling in the kingdom-we all have a vocation. Every page so far has deeply blessed my understanding of my own vocation.

The Brat Returns: When Prayer is Hard

I have been spending time in the Psalms lately. There is a blog I check in on called MamaMonk. And she has a post about how she stays connected to God. I was challenged by her thoughts and have been trying out her connection plan.

This plan ran me right into Psalm 21 and right into a pocket of my heart that stays shoved out of sight-hidden from others, myself, and I like to pretend, God.

This Psalm is a happy one. Full of celebration and praise to the God who provides. Here is how it starts:

O Lord, the king rejoices in your strength.

How great is his joy in the victories you give!

You have granted him the desire of his heart 

and have not withheld the request of his lips.

As I continued to read about all God had done in the life of this king my heart became increasingly sad, and this part of myself that I ignore and stuff out of sight, started to surface and overwhelm me. 

There are two things that I've asked for over the past 10 years. Two things that God has seemingly ignored. I know this is bad theology, I know that I might not be asking for good stuff, or more correctly, the right stuff. But in the area of prayer and relationship this is a hard thing for me. I feel abandoned. I read these verses and scoff. This may be true for some, but not for me. 

This hidden saddness sucks the power and energy out of my prayer life. When I'm praying for others, this part of me is detached and distant from their needs. When I'm praying bold prayers, this pocket fears and sweats. When I'm pressing toward God with a full trust, there is this part of me that leans away,  a part that says, "What's the point of praying...He is just going to do what He wants."

I stayed here a few days-Annoyed, saddened and tired of ignoring this part of myself. 

Then I revisited Psalm 21, and things were different. I was still sad, but God showed up and as I read the verses (that days before had highlighted my unanswered need) this time through, God used them to remind me of all the prayers He has answered. He pressed close into this distant part of my heart and comforted my sadness in the areas still left unanswered. And He guided me to a verse I had overlooked days before-verse 6.

Surely You have granted him eternal blessings

and made him glad with the joy of Your Presence.

God has not answered all my prayers, and I will keep praying for these two things and more until He responses, but God has granted me the desire of my heart. He has given me Himself. He has made Himself fully present to me, and has clothed me with the righteousness of His Son so that I can be fully present to Him (hidden junk and all). And that fuels my prayers. That He is here, always here, close to me. And He is paying attention.