Everyday Prayer

I hunted. Scoured the house and van, all in search of the elusive Underground Abductor- the abolition installment of the historical graphic novel series "Nathan Hale's Hazardous Tales," by Nathan Hale*. (Hence the series title.) I visited our library, convinced I had returned it. Bless them for their patience and helpfulness. I called the library that sent the missing novel to our town so that I could kidnap it without a trace. No dice.

Nowhere. No good.

The bustle of Holy Week and Easter company put the search out of mind. A blessing wrapped in the chaos.

And though I felt compelled to write this morning, the gnawing of this task left unfinished would not give me the brain space to focus. I would have to spend the soggy day dismantling my home, and with no guarantee of a successful recovery.

So I prayed. Admittedly, I always feel like these are genie prayers. I rub my magic lamp and make my wish, "Please God, I want to write. I do. But this book won't leave me alone. I have to find it. Please please PLEASE help me, Lord. Help me find this book, which is so insignificant in the big scheme of things."

I prayed it a couple times, maybe 3. By the last time I was embarrassingly desperate. My path of home demolition was set and I wanted nothing more than to pry this book from my conscience. I left my bathroom and headed to the kitchen. As I did, I heard my oldest daughter's voice behind me.

"Hey, Mom. Guess what I found."

I turned to her. A smile wrapped her face, and her hands clasped something behind her back.

"What?" Could this be it? Could it be?

Her right hand shot out from behind her back, holding the treasure. She grinned and held out to me, Nathan Hale's Hazardous Tales: The Underground Abductor.

I reached out and grabbed that girl. I hugged her and kissed her face like she had just risen from the grave. She collapsed onto the floor and I kissed her blond head. "I prayed for this! I prayed for this you know! Thank you, God!" She just laughed. Her mom is weird.

And so here I am. I made myself a cup of chamomile tea, honey and lemon. Then promptly soaked my hair in it just in case it is true that this is a natural method to lightening my hair and I don't have to take out a loan for a hair appointment. I sit typing, my shirt reeking of yesterday's sweat, my body unwashed, and my hair smelling of sweet summer, all while it rains drearily outside my office window. (There are benefits to having a job where no one can see or smell you through a screen.)

This life isn't glamorous. I could look at the messes and gripe (I often do) of the incessant cluttering, scattering, ignoring. I could see this morning's discovery as a happy coincidence. After all, could God not have gifted me with the book without my pleas?

Yes. Yes, He could have and might have, but that is not the point.

Prayer, of any and all kinds, is a gift.

It draws us to our knees in humility.

It admits that we cannot do this on our own.

It acknowledges the God-ness and the Goodness of God.

It postures us in the direction of seeing God at work in our lives.

It reminds us of all the reasons we have to be thankful, the most important of which is that if every answer to our prayers from here on out is "no," God has given us "Yes" in Jesus Christ and there is nothing that trumps that. Nothing. Ever.

It may take a while. Like tea steeping and hair soaking, results aren't always immediate, but know this: n
o prayer is too small, no task too insignificant. God wastes nothing, and He cares about the intimate details of your life. Just be prepared for Him to work, mainly in ways unexpected.

He loves you, and so do I. I'm sending you a virtual hug today. It smells better this way.

Now off to find our Dora the Explorer book... pray for me, please.

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* In case you are wondering- this book series by Nathan Hale is really cool. The 4th grader read it in a night, and I anticipate the same from my 2nd grader- especially since I gave him only 24 hours to read it so as to get the book out of my house before it evaporates again.

Why Speaking Life isn't Cute- it's Critical

The sentence that draws a groan from the mouths of parents of healthy kids everywhere... "There's something going around."

Sick. And the animated germs float through the various scenarios in our mind as we reluctantly, intentionally, put our children in close quarters with other potentially contagious human beings.

At school.
Work.
Store.
Library.
Church.

And the only way to escape contamination is quarantine. Not of the sick- of the healthy. Who has time for that?

So as the coughs and sniffles infiltrate our home atmosphere, I have to ponder another illness with symptoms just as apparent and far more damaging.

Toxic words.

It's not a new concept. As old as sin itself, toxic words have been creeping around here lately and it really is time to knock them out.

The breath God Himself breathed into the first man, that He gives us graciously so that we may praise and exalt His name, we transform into noxious vapors bent on destruction. And any ignorant, careless, even harmless statement injures us. The pain turns our focus inward and we perpetuate the pain in the ears of another. Continuing the cycle. Spreading the germ of hurt and hate.

I wish I could say there was a vaccination. A way to prevent the hurtfulness of others from invading our hearts and poisoning our words, but there just isn't- not yet. Pain, death, and sin are tight for sure.

But what sets us apart as God's holy people has never been that we remain emotionless and untouched by human wrongs. It is the Spirit living in us that gives us the strength to stop the spread of the toxicity, and provide the pain relief of love, mercy, forgiveness

What sets us apart is the new life we have in Christ that makes it possible to "Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil." (Ephesians 4:26-27)

Let's be honest, the devil will use it all if we give him the chance. He will twist words, thoughts, actions to offend us and break apart the relationships God intends to restore and strengthen. I know far too many families in strife over hurtful speech. Far too many people who have left their church home because someone chose to harbor hurt rather than foster forgiveness.

Left unchecked, the toxicity of our speech can lead to death. You've seen the casualties.

So now what? Now we choose. Do I truly fix my eyes on the Author and Perfecter of my faith? Do I really believe that I belong to and reflect the One and Only man who ever was healthy, who did not quarantine Himself away from the miserable patients, but who came to be Emmanuel, God with us?

Or do I bow down and worship my temper? My anger? My pain? My narcissism? My insecurity?

If you choose the latter, there isn't much I can do for you. But if you truly believe the former, then there is hope. Real, abiding, living hope. And it will refresh your soul.

But first, we all have to be quick to repent. Victim or no, we've knowingly infected those around us. Only through the eyes of forgiveness (not perfection) can we then spread the soothing balm of kindness and understanding to the injured around us.

We can use our platform, our influence, only for what is helpful. That means keeping our raw emotions about other people off Facebook, Twitter, etc. Venting is necessary, no doubt. Find a journal or a trusted and objective friend with which you can work out your difficulties. Sharing our rational opinions on Facebook or wherever, and being open to real feedback is fine, but veiled ranting does no good. In fact, I'll make you a deal. If you really have to get something off your chest, PM me on Facebook or Twitter. If you have my number, call me or text. I'll put it in the vault and you won't suffer the indigestion of eating your words later.

We can pray that God opens our eyes to the hurt snaking into our speech and gives us the resolve to say, "This stops here. I will not let that person's hurt rob me of my joy in Christ and affect my treatment of others".

We can take the difficult relationships in our lives and imagine better. Imagine the best possible way this relationship can be healed, and pray about it. Forgive generously. Then as far as it depends on you, work to make a better relationship. Leave the rest up to God. You do not have the one relationship God cannot heal.

Then when we screw up we can repent again and live in forgiveness daily. It might seem like a cycle, but I'd take a cycle of resurrection over a cycle of death any day. I think you would too.

Let's start a kindness epidemic.

When Life Looks A Lot More Like Gilligan's Island

Just sit right back and you'll read a tale, a tale of a fateful trip...

Don't ask me how, but my children discovered Gilligan's Island this past weekend. And with me or my husband manning the remote (so as to avoid the raunchy TV Land commercials) we sat as a family and watched as a whole new generation was awed by the magical and inescapable island of their dreams.

It's a dangerous thing- watching your childhood favorites again. They rarely, if ever, live up to the memories. Still, Gilligan's Island was entertaining, if not marvelous. It taught me a few things too:

1. Life would have been a lot simpler if those huts had been built of sound-proof bamboo. Then people wouldn't have been eavesdropping and freaking out all the time. Seriously, Howells, you think the Professor and Skipper are going to off Gilligan to save their own skin and avoid war with an island tribe?

2. The show isn't realistic. Not in the slightest. I mean really, a head-hunting tribe with only 3 members (none of which are women- how will the culture be preserved with no babies)? A dentist's drill powered by the pedaling patient? Gilligan and the Skipper sleeping and waking in those same clothes every single day and they don't fade? I know it wasn't supposed to be realistic, but when I was younger it never really occurred to me just how outlandish it all was. It didn't seem ridiculous at all.

3. Perspective matters. The show scared the kids. A guy running up and down on the island in a bed sheet. A giant stuffed spider whose legs don't even touch the ground (because their was a dude in that costume, I believe). Gilligan avoiding mortal combat with an island native. It was tense in the room as the kids seriously fretted, how will everything work out?  

Then again, I was stranded on my own island this past weekend. Hearing part of the story, the part I didn't want to hear. Making assumptions based on incomplete evidence. Creating wildly unrealistic plot lines in my own brain of what I was sure would be my own demise.

I left the port of assumption, navigated the turbulent seas of obsession, and crashed on the shores of despair.

I emailed the person who I assumed thought I was incompetent, untrustworthy, and stubborn. Seeking closure in an email is like throwing darts blindfolded. You might hit the target, but chances are more likely you'll just cause a bystander pain. Pretty sure I did that. Unintentionally, but still. I scrutinized every word of his reply. Agonized over every turn of phrase. And left the exchange more confident than ever that this person thought I was unfit.

But the scary thing is this- I didn't mean to do any of this. I avoided it at all costs. I tried to be rational when I heard the news. I sought wise counsel. I prayed. I read the Bible. I worked out. I drank red wine. I slept. I did every physical and spiritual therapy I could think of. Nothing worked.

It hit me that God was working a change in my life and in the life of His church. A change in which I played a major part. A change that made the devil nervous.

You can bet that when God gets plans in motion, the devil isn't far behind. He wants nothing more to derail the train powered by the Lord and moving in His direction.

I worked an hour on Bible study homework. Felt good doing it. Less than a minute after, my blood pressure soared at the mere thought of this person. I realized I needed reinforcements. I did what I rarely do- I texted a friend for prayer. Personal prayer. I can ask a person to pray for a friend, a family member. It's much harder to ask them to pray for me and a hang up in my own brain. But I knew I was in the middle of a full-on attack and I needed someone else behind me.

Guess what, it worked. She offered a listening ear (or a reading eye, as the case would have it). She offered to pray for me and the other person. Then she offered the exact perspective I needed: the devil sees the work God is doing in the other person, and is fighting to get him back. The devil was sending out his forces and working on the both of us, and with that perspective I was instantly placed on the side of my "enemy."

Instead of his army on one side and mine on the other, waiting to charge onto the battlefield, there we stood- he and I back to back, swords in hand, fighting off the powers of darkness that sought to obliterate any chance of glorifying God.

I was at peace.

I talked to my former "offender" on Sunday at church, and guess what, I do really like him. His enthusiasm was exciting to see and, while I know we are going to have some obstacles and differences of opinion, we are on the same side.

It was the S.S. Truth that rescued me that day. Captained by Jesus Christ and manned by one of his dear servants.

We all get stranded on our own imaginary islands. Ridiculous plot lines and incomplete information threaten to be our undoing. What truth do you need to hear today? What relationships are buckling under these conditions. The devil is looking to devour us. It is my prayer that he's kept hungry and God is glorified in your life and mine.

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Thanks for reading my little testimony here. I ask you to keep this situation in your prayers. Strides have been made, but I know that the further we get, the harder satan will work. Pray for understanding, clear communication, grace and mercy in all this- and I will pray for you too!

For When You Need Extra Incentive to Be Thankful {Messy Monday}

I still don't think he understands how a garage sale works.

He held up an action figure- his action figure. The one I snatched from his top drawer because he NEVER plays with it, and the proceeds of the sale went to send my husband and a church member to Kenya to share the Gospel.

"Yes, you can buy it," I resigned.
"How much?"
"It's free-will donation. It costs as much as you think it should."
"A dollar."
"Fair enough."

He held out his hand in expectation. I guess he thought I paid him to take the toy away. Some days...

After the unsold merchandise was packed up and ready to donate to a local mission, we went home. Moments later, my son was in tears. "He left his toy in the basement," my daughter informed me. It was packed up.

I told the boy, "Go upstairs..."
"I didn't bring it upstairs."
"No, go upstairs, into your room..."
"But it's not up there."
"I know. Let me finish. Go upstairs, into your room, and look around at all the toys you do have. You have lots of toys, Honey. You didn't need that one."

I don't know the typical period of mourning over a lost Transformer, but he was over it pretty quickly. Distracted. The next day, another little boy found the Transformer buried in the boxes, and loved it. My son was more than eager to sell it to him for two bucks- yes, the money went into the garage sale pot:)

I know it isn't always that easy. The typical period of mourning means very little when what you are missing is a who. Friends, family gone into glory. Broken relationships that once meant the world to you.

You'd give everything to have them back. I know that feeling.

I'm not being callous. I try to avoid the "wisdom" of Job's friends. But what I say to you, I say to myself as well: Look around you.

Continue steadfastly in prayer, being watchful in it with thanksgiving. At the same time, pray also for us, that God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ, on account of which I am in prison—

Colossians 4:2-3

Three things weave together- Prayer, Watchfulness, and Thanksgiving braided into a life in Christ. How would our lives be changed if today, in our own prisons for Christ, we were watchful for His blessings? His mercies new every morning? 

The braid forming a rope to which we cling when the crushing weight of our brokenness threatens to push us into the abyss.

The rope woven into the net that catches us when we just can't hold on anymore.

The net that pulls us into the hands of our Redeemer.

The Redeemer who prays "Thy Will Be Done" to His Father, knowing that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

The Father, who sends His Spirit into us, making us holy, sacred, and keeping us that way.

So that we can pray, watch, and thank in faith.

Look around you- you have the entire Trinity loving you, holding you. And if that's not a way to see this mess of a world, I don't know what is.  

Praying for you, lovely friends! Praying God gives you reason after reason to watch and be thankful. He loves you. He is faithful. He wastes nothing, working in every single thing for the good of those who belong to Him. He loves you today and every day.

Eyes to See {Messy Monday}

If I was to measure the distance from her nose to the treats she sought, it could not have measured more than 8 inches.

I laughed my frustrated laugh, "They are literally right in front of your face."

"Huh?" Her eyes searched the counter and settled on the gummy worms my husband was now pointing to.

"Ooohhhh!"

In my helpful fashion I mused, "You must have zero peripheral vision." (To be sure, this was not the first time that day that her eyes had completely missed an item I asked her to fetch...)

"I was looking for a bag."

There it was. The moment I handed my giddy son his gummy worms and watched him skip into the living room, I showed initiative and went ahead and pulled more worms from the bag. I placed them in neat, equal piles on the counter.

She wasn't looking for neat, equal piles. She was looking for a bag.

Haha, Lord. I get it.

He does this to me all the time. I ask for something. I search for it in confusion. Then there it is. Right there. Right in front of my face.

I prayed that I would be able to make it through Glenn's funeral music relatively intact.

I then wrenched my back something fierce while working out, and spent the majority of the funeral focusing on the electricity massaging my back to keep the inflammation down.

Ok, it doesn't seem much like an answered prayer. It certainly wasn't in a package I expected, but the singing went awesome. As easy as breathing. (I'll blog more about the funeral on Wednesday.)

And I shouldn't be surprised. God's always wrapping up answered prayers in His own packages.

A deliverer in a basket in the reeds.

The Messiah in a little baby.

A healing cleanse in a dirty river.

Body and blood in bread and wine.

You are an answered prayer. You are to me, and to so many others. He hears our prayers and so often we want a magical finish. From what I've seen, God can definitely do that, but more often He changes the packaging. He wraps it in flesh. He wraps up His answered prayers in fallible people with hearts for God.

You are going to meet people today with messy lives. People who are praying for an answer, for a miracle. You might not be the answer, but you can be the one who points them to The Answer. You can show them the love and support that they need to get through this. You can be the one who receives the help from the person wondering if there is any purpose to their life.

Today I pray God give you the eyes to see His answers, no matter how their wrapped. And I pray He gives us all eyes to see that He has chosen us to point out His Answer to a broken and hurting world.

God bless your Messy Monday, Friends! I love you dearly!

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Today I am linking up with Inspire Me Monday!

5 Ways to Keep Your Joy When the World is Falling Apart (Messy Monday)

It's a season of preparation around here. Preparing for what, I'm not sure, but the lack of drama and trauma in our personal lives is a welcome gift. Some may call it a season of peace, and I wouldn't disagree with that (those who know the insanity of our house, feel free to chuckle at that). Still, preparation implies expectancy and readiness, and I've lived long enough to see the seasons change. It's a time to prepare.

 

That's not to say there's not some serious soul-shaking circumstances going on in the lives of those close to me. There's a time for everything. We've read Ecclesiastes. Sung with The Byrds. Wept, laughed, mourned, danced. So, even in my season of relative peace, I still manage to fret. To get bogged down with multitudes of crazy and overwhelming issues around me.

 

In all those seasons, sometimes I forget that there's one season that remains constant:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" Phil 4:4

 

It's time to fight for joy.

 

In the face of persecution, bride burning, divorce, human trafficking, death, that attitude doesn't just happen. It takes some deliberate effort. It is a gift of the Lord to be sure, and He equips us to receive it. But it's like exercise- if you don't use it, you lose it.

 

So, if you are looking for some exercises to help strengthen your joy muscles, here are five ways to seek joy where it may be found:

 

1. Read. I know- bo-ring. There are some totally rad Christian authors out there that just rock. I yell "yes!" when I read them. Underline like a madwoman. Still, it ain't nothing compared to the Bible. Having a hard time finding joy and needing a place to start? Here is a handful of passages:

Phil 3-4; 2 Corinthians 5; John 14-17; Psalm 18; Psalm 138.

 

2. Pray. Right- I'm sure this is another shocker for you. C'mon, Lauren. Read the Bible and pray. Surely you can come up with something more exciting. Actually, no. You can read and pray standing on your head if you want to make it more demanding, but you won't find anything as effective as talking with the Lord and hearing His Word.

 

I had a friend ask me once, "How do you know when you have prayed for something long enough? When do you just need to let it go?" Well, it's different for everyone and every circumstance, but Luke 18:1-8 gives us a pretty clear answer:

And he told them a parable to the effect that they ought always to pray and not lose heart. ² He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor respected man. ³ And there was a widow in that city who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Give me justice against my adversary.’ ⁴ For a while he refused, but afterward he said to himself, ‘Though I neither fear God nor respect man, ⁵ yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will give her justice, so that she will not beat me down by her continual coming.’” ⁶ And the Lord said, “Hear what the unrighteous judge says. ⁷ And will not God give justice to his elect, who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long over them? ⁸ I tell you, he will give justice to them speedily. Nevertheless, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

Pray with open eyes. He will deliver you.

 

If you have a hard time remembering to pray- give yourself a visual or audial aid. A clock chiming. Stopping at a red light. A text message notice. A song. When you hear or see your cue, start praying.

 

3. Let go and LOVE- Of course taking time to think of others takes your mind off your own problems, but this is more than that. So often we are afraid to love others because we don't think it will make a difference, or we will look foolish. Or there is this pressure to somehow win them to Christ. Here' the deal: Christ didn't command us to win anyone. He commanded us to love everyone. He alone is the winner of souls, and that frees us up to love.

Imagine just showing someone love without strings attached. No worries over reputation. No pressure. Just a plate of cookies and a smile. Brainstorm ways to love a new person in a new way. You can't solve every world problem, but you can love another person.

4. Get Creative- David wrote psalms, rain or shine. We each have a deep-seeded creativity planted by the Master Creator. It's cathartic. Turn on the music. Sing. Dance. Even if you're horrible at them. Bake or cook. Invent. Draw. Write. Photograph. And give it as a gift to God. This is for you, Lord. It's not much. But it's Yours.

 

5. Praise. Praise. Praise.- Pause and remember the good things God has done, is doing. And praise Him for it. Out loud. Really. Say it out loud. May be awkward. You might want to put in your earbuds and do it so people will think you are just singing along with the music. Vocalize it. Take it from your head and put it in your whole body. Write it down. Share it. Check out Phil 3-4 again. Give thanks all the time.

 

And when all this seems like a bit too much to chew, the struggle for joy is just too hard, Phil 4:4-9- the Rejoice in the Lord Always passage- gets that, and gives us three promises to cling to. Hold fast to them and know you are never alone.

 

The Lord is at hand. (v. 5)

 

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (v. 7)

 

The God of peace will be with you. (v. 9)

 



 

Dear Daughter

Giggles erupted from the back seat of the truck, sending laughter spewing into the air and floating down all over me.

Three absolutely adorable boys chatted behind me as we made our way to the last soccer game of the season, and I smiled. Only one of the boys was my son, the other two being brothers and Grady's teammates. The picture of polite Iowa boys, and just as cute as the dickens.

I can't help it, I'm a mom. Their family has three boys and one girl. We have three girls and one boy. And those boys are all around our girls' ages. I know it's silly, but moms match their kids up with other kids- especially cute, sweet ones. I mentally figured out how that would look in my head.

My mind took me to a comfortable place only to be stirred by one thought, "Pray for their spouses." You've heard those amazing prayer stories- someone was in trouble and exactly at that moment another person was moved to pray for them, and everything turned out fine. Not sure that was what this was, but right then and there I prayed for my future sons.

Those prayers came more quickly than any prayer I had for my son's future wife. Not because he is still my boy, I don't think. Maybe because I know just how important and difficult it is to find a godly man, so there is an urgency in that prayer.

But tonight I sat and pondered the woman my son will marry. What she looks like now- if she is even here yet. Her family, her childhood, her adolescence. If you've never spent the time really thinking and praying about the future relationships of your children (note: I did not say "worrying"), it is a worthwhile endeavor. So, here is my prayer for you, Future Daughter-in-law, future friends of my kids that I will no doubt play "mom" to, and you little girls under my roof.

Dear Daughter,

May I first say you are beautiful. Seriously. Stunning and gorgeous and so incredibly valuable. I pray you know that. You are amazing.

Young woman whom my son will choose, I pray for you so hard. I want to pray for your family, your upbringing, your time with the Lord, your health- but I've learned enough from this world that what really matters is your heart. So that is what captivates me in prayer- the condition of your heart. All the heartbreak the world would give you only tills the heart in which the seed of faith is planted. And so I pray that your heart is ready and fertile, and that your faith is growing up into maturity. Not so that you can be ready in my eyes to marry my son. But because I love you.

I pray for your spirit.  But the fruit of the Spirit is

love- that you would know it truly as the Lord lavishes, & accept it fully when my boy offers it,

 joy- that you would know what it is to be thankful and so find joy in every circumstance,

 peace- that you would know where to turn when trials abound and so find peace in God alone,

patience- that you would develop humor to be patient with people like me, who love imperfectly,

kindness- that you would witness the kindness of Christ in those around you,

goodness- that you would possess the courage to live out the goodness found only in God,

faithfulness- that you would know God's faithfulness and display it in your life no matter what, 

gentleness- that you would know the Christ-like love that forgives and opens hearts to healing,

self-control- that you would wait on the Lord;

against such things there is no law. (Gal. 5:22-23)

I pray for you, Daughter, whether we have met or not because, Sweet Child, you belong to the Lord. And believe me, He loves you so very much.