I wrote seven words down in my journal last week. Words which either I struggle with or I am commanded to. I don’t know what to do with any of them. They are all words which I read through scripture or personal prayer time. Most of the time I don’t know if they come from me or if it’s God who is speaking them to me. The just keep popping up in my in life in general.
Prayer was this mythical, magical place suspended in time when I was a little girl, where all my requests were kept in a small round jar. Except I didn’t know that God had searched the depths of them, and had already found the treasure He was looking for.
Unraveling everything I thought to be real, but simply substitutions for what He has planned, to fill my soul with hope. Asking and seeking, and wondering if this is prayer? Do the words that spill forth constitute as conversations, such as one you would have with a stranger or a friend? Prayer was a place to pursue, to inquire of Him, but now my silent voice hits the ground fast.
Though He is no stranger to my heart
He put much thought into what my heart would crave and thirst. It has taken me a long time to realize that communication of the heart is above what would be considered normal. Prayers of rigid words sometimes is the only way that the graces can fill into the cracks that surround us. Not sensing the results I want, only reminding myself of my unanswered prayers, and they lie all around me. Taunting and leering in my head, scolding me are my insecurities and my inability to trust in His faithfulness.
I am beginning to see that it’s not just the busyness that keeps you from taking time to turn inward. For me the last few months has been my emotions. Anger for not understanding what is going on. I want, or at least, I have convinced myself that I need and want to know what is going on. Each time, I go on Pinterest, I am bombarded with pins of having faith, trust, and how when you don’t know what’s going that He is doing something – to trust in him. There is no doubt that He is doing something in me, but when the going gets tough, I normally start closing down.
He has started to pull me back
The tone of voices, the melody of music are all around me, but something inside of me is beckoning. It’s a shelter from all the noise, all the confusion that inhabits and seeps into everything.
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and stream in the wasteland.
He is transiting me to another place, where His silence is full. The lake that never stops its passage to reach the shore, and the river pulls it into system that’s teeming with life. However, big or small; it is something different. Praying is trusting, and since then if I am trusting Him, then I must pray.