Spring arrived, and we barely noticed. St Patrick’s Day, normally heralded by parades and bar-centric revelries, saw none of that. The cherry trees blossomed in DC, and yet no festival was held to bring people to the streets. Easter peeks from around the corner, and we the faithful will celebrate from home in front of computers and Smart TVs as pastors and priests around the world celebrate His Resurrection in a way none of us could have previously imagined. And, yet, this is our world for the foreseeable future.
For the immunocompromised, like me and so many others, huddling inside is the only true option. For the elderly, sheltering in-place, whether ordered to or not, has become a way of survival. But so many more – mothers, fathers, grandparents – must continue to work, if they’re blessed enough to have a job that stills allows them to bring in money. The rest of us, we pray.
I hear individuals say so often, “all we can do is pray.” I’ve said it myself. And, yet, do you realize how very powerful prayer is? If we did, we would claim it immediately saying something more akin to, “My privilege would be to pray for you.” Prayer connects us to the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. Prayer taps into the Infinite, and prayer is the way to tie us back moment by moment to our Creator. Prayer is a language that speaks directly to Him, covers us from darkness, redirects un into the Light, and forces us to remember who we are.
This past year eviscerated me, left me bleeding and broken on the floor, gasping for breath, and (sometimes) wanting to die. I’ve lost so much – too much for me to bear alone – and one of the worst losses was that of my voice. I forgot how to write, but more than that, I had no desire to do so. But the thing is, writing is not just my passion but my purpose, and if I’m not fulfilling that, then I’m not doing what I was sent here to do.
Finding my way back requires on-going true on-my-face time, tearfully, willingly, pleading with Abba to restore what I have lost. The restoration has yet to happen, but it will. I know He will restore all I have lost and more because He promises that in His Word. And, so, I pray, and I wait, and I pray some more. And, sometimes, to my heart’s delight, I catch glimpses of Him at work, and I know He hears me, know He loves me.
I delight in my privilege to pray for you today that you seek and find your own voice, whatever He has bestowed upon you. I pray that you find connection to Him daily and live the life he intended for you before He knit you together in your mother’s womb. Because you have a purpose, or you wouldn’t still be here. You will find that purpose when you call out to Him.
Hallelujah. Amen.
The Unexpected Life 