Thoughts About Prayer

Prayer is meant to be co-labor, not just a dumping grounds for worries.

I pray that God would teach me to be more selfless.
I pray that God would help me find a good job in less than a year.
I pray that God would help me with doubt and confusion.

Once I've offered it, I tend to forget it, or at least for awhile. God's got it under control after all, right?

But then, what right do I have to complain that God does not answer my prayers? I've forgotten it. I've made no effort. God could magically change me and provide specific needs out of the blue, but then what have I learned? That God is omnipotent? Perhaps. That selflessness is hard work? Well, no. That character development and grappling with the ideas of God is hard work but the most satisfying? Hmm, not so much. Have I truly changed then? Have my prayers actually been answered? God wants to provide, but He will not be limited by what I think I need. He has greater plans for me, a way to make me more happy and bring him more glory.

Prayer is not dumping but working through difficulties with God. It is in my time of prayer that healing and providence begins. After all, if I can feel refreshed by a conversation with a good friend, why do I not expect healing and refreshment after I talk with my Almighty Father? I think we sometimes wait too much for God to do all of the work. But if I dump and then walk away, how can he help me?

-Thanks to listening to J.P. Moreland's chapel, The Spiritual Discipline of Prayer from Fall 1999.

Lines

A straight line flows with no end.

Its beginning cannot be seen.

It has no twist or break or bend.

Its marking is fine and clean.

To trust in it is not a stake

As that straight line goes for eternity.

We know what motion it will make

Not boring, but blissful certainty.

Now watch that crazy crooked line.

It’s up, down, all over the place.

Why does she fall, then up and climb,

Just to again fall on her face?

She tries to mock that straight line.

“What fun is there being steady?”

Yet, despite her haughty design,

Her tears show her true malady.

The crooked line pulls herself up,

Even with the straight line’s sure flow.

Gazing down and upon close-up

She knows she wants this way to go.

Content a moment, but soon lost,

The crooked line fell a slight bit.

She traveled next to, but hadn’t crossed,

The straight line she wanted to hit.

But next to it, she could not see

That straight and steady line go on.

“It has gone and abandoned me.

It has changed and treated me wrong.

Well fine then, I’ll find my own way.”

And down she plunged again thinking

She’ll be happy, no line to obey,

Not knowing that she was sinking.

Blinding twists and sharp painful turns,

She’s steering but where is she going?

It’s direction for which she yearns,

She hates utterly not knowing.

That crooked, broken, twisted line

Finally looked up and she saw

The straight line did never decline

It was not it but she who flawed.

In that straight line, is all she desires,

Not above or below but in.

The best is what it requires:

Nothing… except to let go of sin.

Wooden Doors, Apartments, and God

I had a very random memory come to mind while watching our traditional Miracle on 34th St. movie this holiday. So there is the scene in the courthouse where the little girl, Susan, walks straight up to the judge and hands him a Christmas card with a dollar bill in it. That Christmas card turns the whole outcome of the judge's statement. At such a pivotal moment I should be paying attention to the suspense of the scene, or maybe the silliness of a judge declaring if Santa Claus is real or not. But what I always loved watching was the girl push through those wooden swinging doors separating the gallery from the front of the room . I don't know why, but I always thought it would feel so cool to bust through those doors, feeling self important as the doors continued to swing back and forth as I took a seat.

Ok, fastforward now about 10 years to when I started working in the library at Biola. I was so happy, in such an simple way, when I discovered that to get the key for work I had to go through a similar swinging, wooden door. It's such a small, funny thing, but I finally got my big chance to bust through the door. I completely forgot about my childhood obsession with those swinging doors until I sat there watching Susan walk through them. At first I wanted to think, "aw, one of these days," but instead I thought, "big whoop, I walk through a door like that every day now."

A few weeks after watching Miracle on 34th St., my family drove down to beautiful San Clemente beach for our annual 1 week stay. My dad turned to me, like he does almost every year, and commented on how fun it would be if our beach condo was my real apartment and I shared it with a few other girls. I used to wander the rooms, picturing what it would be like to live without parents, with a bunch of my closest friends, and have a place to call my very own. But this year, I couldn't help thinking, "big whoop, a beach condo would be nice, but now I live in my own apartment with my best friends."

I don't need to dream anymore. I used to wonder what I'd look like when I was old, you know, a ripe old age like 18 years old! But now that's come and gone. I wondered what I would do after graduation, what it felt like to drive for real rather than mimic my mom in the back seat, or even what my brothers would be like or if they would keep playing Ninja turtles and Sonic forever. Now I know that I am still young and have so much to experience, but it makes me laugh to realize all the things I used to wonder and dream about. It's just sad that "being grown-up" isn't as magical as it seemed.

Childhood is certainly a magical time. Everything is so simple and everything lies ahead. But I would say that it is so magical because it is so mysterious. I used to take such joy in silly thoughts of walking through a swinging door simply because I didn't know what it would feel like. And now, I walk through that door without a second thought or a hint of a smile because I'm just used to it now.

We live in a culture that is soaked with facts and information. To be oblivious is to be frowned upon. Yet, it is ironic to me that people who so highly value knowing find such joy in the mystery of the unknown and first experiences. If only we could gain knowledge, actually experience the feeling of those doors, without becoming bored by the second or third time.

What struck me when wishing this was that we have it! The answer is the classic Sunday school answer: God. I used to think that we need to fully explain God to be justified in believing in his existence. If I can't make perfect logical sense out of God, then he must not exist. But how foolish am I to think I can fully comprehend an infinite God who exists outside of time and space? God can be consistent even if I can't comprehend it. In fact, if we completely figure God out, then he must not be all that glorious after all. So guess what? God will always be a mystery. We can understand aspects of his nature. We can experience him to a degree. But we can never get bored with God if we truly seek him.

So here's a little twist for you on "child-like faith." Christianity will never become boring if you truly seek God. There will always be mystery and anticipation which brings that simple, magical joy of a child.

A Life Well Lived

Today I went to Brooke Prieto's memorial service. I'll admit that at first I didn't want to go, thinking of all the other things I could do with the time. But after attending, I'm so thankful that I was able to be a part.

Brooke was an exceptional young woman. I'm only sad to say that I barely knew her. The main memory I have of her is sitting at my kitchen table, sipping tea at the "kid's table" while all the adults ladies were in the other room. At first I was so intimidated to have her sit with us younger girls. She was so much older, not to mention she was gorgeous and popular. What would I have to talk about with her? But as she sat down and began talking, I realized how humbly genuine she was. She had no air of superiority, nor did she give any sign that she was thinking about herself at all. Just a few mintues spent with her was refreshing. She truly knew how to give and reflect God's unconditional love.

The memorial service was hard to get through as the sisters, father, and husband spoke about her angelic nature. But it was absolutely beautiful. This was a woman, though only in her twenties, who had fulfilled her purpose. Even though she had such little energy from her disease, she continued to give herself to others and never was she heard complaining. She could have easily planted herself in her bed and made the whole world realize how unfortunate she was. She could have revolved her life around her sickness. She could have cried out against the unfairness of having to die so young. But she didn't. No, instead she encouraged others, gave to others, and never seemed to notice herself.

Brooke is one inspiring woman. I'm at a point in my life where I'm wondering how I'm going to make an impact on this world. I'm a junior in college now and it's time to start thinking about the future. I would love to share my love for philosophy with high school students, but I always come back to the same question: Am I any good at it? My problem is that, comparing myself to all the other brilliant Torrey students, I usually feel like I'm not very good at much. But I want to use my time and energy to impact others and bring them to Christ. I want to use my life not for my own entertainment and enjoyment but for God's purpose. I just need to find out what I'm good and do it for Christ, right? Well what amazed me about Brooke is that she was not remembered today for her amazing factual knowledge, her artistic or musical ability, or her great people skills. She was remembered for making dinners for those who were sick, praying with pastors even when she was the only student doing it, supporting a worship team even though she had no musical ability. She didn't need to be famous for her xyz quality. She served God simply with who she was. Too often I feel like I can't live an effective life because I'm just not talented enough to catch people's attention and lead them to God. I feel like I can't serve God until I know my unique ability that can be made God-centered. But as Brooke showed, you live a good life in every conversation, through every relationship, any encouraging note, or easy task for another. It's a simple concept, but remember that living an effective life for Christ doesn't require a special talent, nor is it limited to that talent. It is a lifestyle. It is how you choose to spend your time, how you interact with others, and ultimately, whether you're living your day-to-day life for yourself or for others.

I pray to God that one day, people will remember my life and will instantly think of God's love, selflessness, and holiness. I so desperately want to live a life that is meaningful and well-done. But rather than stressing about a way to make myself talented enough to catch people's attention, I can start with how I use my thought life, how I interact with people, and how I spend time with my Abba. Thank you Brooke, for your selfless life. Even though I barely spent any time with you, thank you for what you gave, and how you turned us all past yourself and on to God.