When We Pray

This will probably turn into some kind of ramble, but it’s on my heart so I’m just going for it. 

Yesterday in Sunday School we discussed the condition of our world today. We mainly focused our discussion on mass shootings  and how we respond to them inwardly and outwardly. We also pondered the questions we had about how we, as Christians, are called to respond to these things when they happen.  

We read a response from pastor and author Max Lucado who suggested inviting Jesus to join us in these surely turbulent times. He referenced  John 6 when Jesus walked on water to join His disciples in the midst of a storm and says to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.”

“This is the title of steadiness and power. When we wonder if God is coming, he answers with his name: ‘I AM!’ When we wonder if he is able, he declares, ‘I AM.’ When we see nothing but darkness, feel nothing but doubt, and wonder if God is near or aware, the welcome answer from Jesus is this: ‘I AM!’”

It didn’t really resonate with me yesterday in class. Then we sat through a wonderful sermon about listening when the Holy Spirit speaks to us.

All afternoon and this morning I’ve continued to think about my responses to the terrible things happening in our world. Even as a child of God, knowing full well His hand is mighty and present, I still feel angry. I still feel scared. And I mostly feel helpless. What can I do? How can I change things? 

If I am being honest, hearing that still, small voice is difficult for me. And then sometimes it just smacks me right in the face. The first song on the radio this morning was “When We Pray.” 

I thought about how tiny my prayers seem compared to the weight of the world and the heaviness of life waking up to bad news almost daily. I thought about how my prayers are often just out of desperation. They are often intercessory  on behalf of a hurting soul or an ailing body. But isn’t this a desperate time? Aren’t these souls and bodies in need of healing? 

My favorite lyric from that song says this: 

“All the world starts changing, when the church starts praying.”

If you’ve never witnessed the power that prayer has, I can tell you first hand that it is an incredible testament to the strength of God. There is something so powerful in being both on the giving and receiving end of laying hands on a person to have a heart saved or a body healed. 

I say all of that to say this. In a world that seems beyond help and in a time when we feel hopeless to change it, God is saying to us, “I am.” We just have to open our hearts to hear it. 

Per•fec•tion

Me - Perfect Mother = THIS

perfection: noun

per • fec • tion

1 : the quality or state of being perfect: such as

  a  :freedom from fault or defect : FLAWLESSNESS
  b  :MATURITY
  c  :the quality or state of being saintly

2  a: an exemplification of supreme excellence
    b: an unsurpassable degree of accuracy or excellence

3 : the act or process of perfecting

"Perfection is the antithesis of authenticity." ~ Willie Garson

Now that we've gotten all of that out of the way, don't bother Googling Willie Garson. He's "Stanford" from Sex and the City. I will wait while you google him anyway....

I've been pondering this idea of perfection quite a bit lately. What does the perfect mother look like? The perfect wife? The perfect Christian? I can't explain where these thoughts come from. They just have this sneaky way of creeping into my conscious thoughts every. single. day.

I wish I could say that I've come to some profound conclusion. I haven't. I doubt I ever will. But here is what I know...

The perfect wife...

Honors her husband all the time.

Takes it on the chin when she's wrong.

Is slow to anger.

The real wife...

Needs those reminders to let her know he deserves to be honored.

Argues until there isn't anything to argue about.

Is a hot head.

The perfect mother...

Has perfect children. Well-behaved. Well-mannered. 

Keeps a tidy and functional house.

Beams at the mere sight of her angelic children.

The real mother...

Has children. She picks her battles. She is not Emily Post.

Keeps her children in clean clothes. Her house is lived in.

Loves them deeply, but savors private moments to herself.

The perfect Christian...

Tells you they are the "perfect Christian."

Judges you.

Lives a life without sin.

The real Christian...

Wants to share their faith with you, but is probably anxious because you know them.

Walks alongside you, without judgement.

Sins. Falls short. Every. Single. Day.

Perfection. It's a myth. A tall tale. An urban legend. We can wish our lives away waiting to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect Christian. While we are on the quest to perfection, we might as well make everyone around us miserable because they don't meet the ideas of perfection the world has created for us.

Salvation. It's a true story. It's a big story. We can strive to be perfect without Jesus and it will never happen. We can accept Jesus and we will still never be perfect. But we will be His. Forever. And man, isn't that perfect...

Me + Bradley + All of Our Imperfections {GOD} = THIS

Dad

Disclaimer: This blog is heavy-hearted compared to my norm. Proceed accordingly.

If 16 year-old Mandy had to chose 3 words to describe her dad they would be: annoying, embarrassing and pre-occupied.

If 35 year-old Mandy had to chose 3 words to describe her dad they would be (in no particular order): selfless, genuine and hilarious (and maybe still a little embarrassing). 

I will be the first to tell you (now) that I had one amazing childhood. I didn't want for anything. I was a happy kid, adolescent and teenager.  I will also tell you, and so would my father, that I didn't have a super close relationship with him then. He was and is the hardest worker I know. He dedicated his entire life to making sure that my brother and I had everything we needed and wanted. Needless to say, he wasn't home a lot. He missed lots of concerts. He missed lots of ball games. He missed things. Growing up I really thought he just missed them. He wasn't physically there. Now I know how much he really missed them. 

If you ask my mother {or my husband} she would tell you that my dad and I were "cut from the same mold." I blame genetics for the reason that we butted heads during my teenage years. Now that I really know my dad as an adult, I realize how identical we actually are. I look a lot like my mother and I would like to think I have some of her best qualities, but I am a carbon copy of my dad. My personality is his. My attitude is his. My ability to hold a grudge is his. My temper is his. My worrisome mind is his. My burdened heart is his. 

Just a few weeks before Christmas we were bombarded with a new word that we now use in association with dad....CANCER.

It happens quickly. There are concerns. There are appointments upon appointments. Tests upon tests. There is the confirmation that it is, indeed, cancer. There is hope because "if you're going to get cancer then this is the best kind because it's treatable." More tests. More scans. More bad news. Bad news upon bad news. Statistics. Now we use words like rare and aggressive. 

Nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing can prepare your faith for this. I am here to tell you that THIS REALLY FREAKING SUCKS.  In the past 2 days I have been the angriest at God that I have ever been in my entire life. I am so mad that this has happened to my dad. This man who would give anything he has to anyone who needs it. This man who is so devoted to his family. This man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but still offers a smile. This man who my husband calls his best friend. This man who has loved my mother for 40 years. This man who loves his grandchildren so fiercely. This man. This man who is my dad. My dad.

Here is what I know about my dad. He is strong. He is courageous. He is determined. He is not ready to go. He is a fighter. He prays. He has people praying for him.

But, here is what I know about my FATHER. He has fought this fight. He has won this war. There isn't a day ahead of us that He hasn't laid His eyes on. Whatever the outcome of this journey my dad is embarking on, I rest tonight knowing that one day we will all stand in Glory with Jesus. HEAR THIS THOUGH. It isn't easy to rest this easy. It is a battle every day not to just lay down and cry. But I cry out to Jesus. I throw my hands up to Him.


“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”