Thursday, June 7, 2012


I am a self-proclaimed, non-prayer. To be fair, the comment is an overstatement. I do pray. I also cease praying (1 Thessalonians 5:17). To break the inconsistency, I began dedicating the first Thursday morning of each month to getting alone with God.

I begin each retreat by reading through my journal. My record from previous months is partial: lists of request, Bible readings, and random phrases that might be prophetic. Sometimes I complain about how tired I am. Other times I gush about the goodness of God. More than once I've broken into tears over the needs of people in my family, church, and neighborhood. Broken marriages. Pesky addictions. Wayward children. Empty bank accounts.

During one of my sob sessions, God affirmed, "The story is not over."

I responded by writing...
Thought of Isaiah 53. Read Psalm 34. Came ot the final few verses, where God promises no broken bones. Though of Jesus. Cried some more.
The world is a mess:
Souls tossed and thrown about;
Prayers lost in the wind.
When does the Spirit come
to calm and sooth and mend?
Recent study in the book of Acts makes no bones about the Spirit's present work. He came (Acts 2). And in His coming, He cries out when our voices are weak and bodies are tired (Romans 8). He prays when I do not.

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