Tag: Psalm

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The Spiritual Disciplines: Prayer Part I

Prayer can sometimes be easy, but for me it’s incredibly difficult at times too. Jesus commanded us to pray (Matthew 5:44, 26:41). He even tells us how to pray (Matthew 6:6-7, 6:9), yet it can still elude us. Distractions of all kinds can so easily get in the way of communicating with God and truly acknowledging His presence. For me it usually takes intention and wholehearted attention to pray, which our fast-paced and often hurried culture does not easily accommodate in our schedules. Prayer is counter-cultural.

I find it fascinating how Jesus completely changed the way prayer was seen and practiced in the culture. He made it go from being something only done in the temple to actually making it go mobile with every believer. This shift happened so long ago in such a different culture that it’s easy to take it for granted, but keeping this in mind has been very helpful to me in thinking about prayer lately. Let’s dive into prayer a bit further, shall we?  

Struggling with Prayer 

For several years of my adult life, I couldn’t pray. Praying was something I had done ever since I can remember growing up. I would pray almost every night and found the prayers prayed in church such as the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostle’s Creed beautiful and meaningful at a young age. Fast forward and I began following my own way, without consulting the Lord much beyond asking, “please help this thing I want to happen work out.” When I got around to praying, the only way I can describe the experience is that my prayers “bounced back.” Like sending an undeliverable email. My words went nowhere and seemed ridiculous as they reverberated back to me. Looking back now, I realize my heart wasn’t in those prayers because I didn’t trust God and wasn’t interested in learning His will. I only thought about my own. At the time though I just didn’t understand; God should hear my prayers no matter what, right?

Digging a bit further in the Bible, I’m not the only one who has felt like their prayers weren’t heard. David wrote, “...my prayers returned to me unanswered…” (Psalm 35:13). Sounds very familiar. But instead of pressing in and seeking God out, I walked away. I stopped trying to pray altogether. I hadn’t embraced the Spirit or the Truth (John 4:23) that is essential for aligning with His will, and again all I was really doing was asking for my own will to work out. I got so far down my own path that it took awhile for me to become open to being found by Him again after getting away from the Truth. When I finally realized I was surrounded by His kindness and mercy, that He never had and never will give up on me, I was simply in awe.  Suddenly, I really, REALLY wanted to talk to God. I became keenly curious about my problems with prayer and started to seek answers.

A Brief History of Prayer 

I’ve freshly rediscovered that prayer used to be associated with a physical location in Jewish culture. The temple in Jerusalem was thought to be the only proper place to pray because it housed the presence of God. Think about that for just a moment: there was a time when people had to travel to a specific place to talk to God! How much worse would traffic be today, am I right? Jesus ushered in a new age of prayer by sending the Holy Spirit to us. The temple of God no longer confined to a physical place, He now dwells within every believer. Jesus gave us the ability to pray from anywhere. We ourselves collectively embody the temple of God, and can now pray anywhere we go, for the Holy Spirit goes with us! 

When Jesus spoke with a Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, He explained this, “...a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem” (John 4:21). Jesus told her about the change in our human interaction with God to be brought about by the Holy Spirit, “the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth” (John 4:23b-24). 

I believe this is the key to the prayer woes I described. I crowded the Holy Spirit out, so how could I be “in the Spirit?” I didn’t trust Him because I didn’t know Him well enough. I didn’t understand the nature of or the history of humanity’s connection to God. And consequently, I didn’t know the Truth about who Jesus is. But God didn’t give up on me, and if you feel this way today, know He hasn’t given up on you either. He can lead us out of the worst despair and into a new place cognitively and emotionally where we can trust Him. Transformation and renewal is possible (Romans 12:2). I know this because prayer miraculously was restored to me, along with many other gifts; joy, hope, peace, and trust, when I fully accepted Jesus.

Paul worked to knit the knowledge of the Holy Spirit into the early church. He spent time writing about the Holy Spirit’s role in the new temple of God within each believer, “Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit” (Ephesians 2:19-21). I find this a beautiful way to paint the church which has been helpful to hold onto in prayer.

Make no mistake, prayer is not always easy for me, even still. I must constantly remind myself of the Truth, and still constantly remind myself of why I trust Him. Reading Scripture that speaks of His character, reading His promises, reminding myself of who He is and the restoration He continually brings as we walk with Him helps strengthen my desire to pray. Again, it takes intention to connect with the One who loves unconditionally. Reminding ourselves of the depth of His love and grace, even while still sinners (Romans 5:8), makes prayer a natural response to this love. Remembering the Truth, and seeing it fresh every day is the tough part. Friends, if you struggle with prayer I encourage you to seek the Spirit and the Truth. It was key for me in finding a prayer life that was more meaningful, powerful, and God-centered instead of me-centered. May we all be restored and refreshed in prayer as we run and endure this race of life. 

Jesus prayed for us 

We can easily rush past this, but our Bibles actually say that Jesus prayed for us. Not only that, He is still currently praying for us! Jesus prayed for every believer while He was living on the earth, “‘My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message” (John 17:20). That’s us, the ones who will believe. And our Bibles also say that in heaven, even today, Jesus continually intercedes for us in prayer, “Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us” (Romans 8:34). How humbling that Jesus is praying for us! What a beautiful promise this is, His love and saving work extending on, far beyond just His time on earth. May we be encouraged to follow Jesus’ example and pray for each other in love. 

For my readers who made it this far and so kindly read my posts, know that I am praying for you. Please send me an email if you have specific prayer requests; I’d love to pray for you. 

Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person; for God’s temple is sacred, and you together are that temple (1 Corinthians 3:16-17). 

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The Joy of Dance

I remember having to sit through my younger sister’s dance recital rehearsal while trying to do math problems. At age 11, anything girly made me roll my eyes. However, out of the 50 or 60 dances, one ballet dance in particular caught my attention even among the racy jazz numbers and the snappy tappers. I found myself being drawn in by the teen ballet set to Tchaikovky’s Waltz of the Flowers. 

It carried me off into another world where everything seemed better.

The dancers looked genuinely happy. The number was synchronized, artistic, and when I finally saw the dress rehearsal, the white costumes with pink sashes and pink flowers made it all just too beautiful to deny. If this was what dancing could look like, I finally understood why people wanted to do it. “If only I could do that,” I thought. Could I? I wrestled for a few weeks, and then decided. I almost surprised myself when I told my mom I wanted to begin ballet lessons.  

I held tight to the dream of being able to dance like the girls in Waltz of the Flowers, to move with grace. The first year or two of classes revealed my deep love of dance; I danced every chance I could. But when I started competing, I lost sight of why I loved dance in the first place. At competitions, dance was instead about external validation. The hope dance had given me for a better more beautiful world took a backseat until there wasn’t much joy in dance for me anymore; after three years I resigned from the dance team. I couldn’t quite bear to stop dancing altogether though.

Nine years after I quit competing, I did stop altogether. At 25, I simply couldn’t dance. Not because I physically couldn’t. Any doctor would have said I was physically capable. But spiritually, I had nothing left. Without being aware or intentional about my relationship with God, I hadn’t been following Him. I had been consistently careless with my heart and mind, and that summer it caught up with me like a ton of bricks. That’ll slow anyone down real quick.

I had lost all sight of the Lord.

It happened so gradually that it was hard to notice. By the time I did notice, I had stopped even trying to pray. I wasn’t following God’s commands, which provide joy. “The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart” (Psalm 19:8). My joy had run out, and I felt it. All of a sudden, everything about my life seemed wrong. I had a vague awareness that I had lost something like innocence but at the time I was blind to the Truth of God. I sought the world’s rational, scholarly answers for why this was happening to me. But nothing satisfied. The truth was, my heart hadn’t received true joy, the joy that comes only from God’s grace and love, for quite some time. What I didn’t know then is that joy is a gift I couldn’t work to give myself. 

Joy is a gift from God. 

It took years for me to make sense of it. All I knew at the time was that I had completely lost strength, mentally and spiritually. I didn’t think that had anything to do with God. Even the thought of attending a dance class right across the street, as I had been, was exhausting. I don’t even remember having hope to dance again. Scripture says, “...Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10). However, I was grieving and weak. I was in pain and didn’t know how to escape it. I didn’t know how to come back to God even if I wanted to (I didn’t, and I blamed Him for how I felt). “Joy is gone from our hearts; our dancing has turned to mourning” (Lamentations 5:15). My dancing had indeed turned to mourning; I was lucky just to get out of bed. Having joy was only a distant memory. 

I had no reason to dance anymore.

Thankfully, God is a merciful God. He never stops loving us and He is always waiting for us to repent. He welcomes us back to Him with open arms when we do. He delights in lavishing His gifts upon His children, and by His amazing grace, He restored my joy that was lost. It took years, but eventually I was ready to accept the Truth. In one of my darkest moments, I focused on Truth instead of my own pain, and let go of blaming God. I repented of my sin. Suddenly, I was filled with joy, and I praise God that joy has not left me since. 

About a year later, I slowly started dancing again, taking one class here and another there. I wanted to savor the process this time and to go at my own pace. I was not disappointed. I found that once again, as when I first began to dance, I could express freedom in the movement. I became sensitive again to the beauty and grace of dance that I had fallen in love with at age 11. Dance is an expression of the heart and a wonderful way to express joy. 

Two years ago, I took an opportunity to perform in a ballet. Though I doubt anyone knew it but God, I wanted to perform again as a testament to how far He’s taken me. From the depths of despair to the stage, He stayed with me through it all. 

To express the joy that He restored to me through dance was a gift.

Now I’m in a season of being stirred to dance the way David danced before the Lord, “Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might,” (2 Samuel 6:14). This year, I’ve had the opportunity to choreograph for a performance. By God’s grace I was inspired with joyful steps and free, expansive movement. I could not have set that kind of piece without the joy of the Lord. This was just a few weeks ago.

Joy is so powerful it often elicits a physical response. Other responses to joy found in the Bible include shouting (Leviticus 9:24), eating (1 Chronicles 29:22), and singing (Psalm 95:1). There are many outward expressions of joy to the Lord; my favorite, as you may have guessed by now, is dancing. 

If I ever doubt that God has restored me and delivered me from sin, I remember how, not so many years ago, I couldn’t even dance one step under the heaviness of darkness. There’s no denying its contrast with the joy that now flows from my spirit, particularly through dance. God worked the miracle of joy in my life. Dance symbolizes my journey of being brought from death to life. And so, I will dance on. 

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,” (Psalm 30:11).  

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Ireland: Part II

I’m reminded every September of my trip to Ireland in 2012, so I thought I’d take some time this month to write about the experience. I’ve traveled a lot in my life, but that trip stands alone by far as the most restorative. As I wrote in Part I, “I had to rely on God to take care of me and keep me from harm” when I went to Ireland solo for two weeks. Just to clarify, this was not something I was very comfortable with, despite the God-nudge to go and the odd sense of peace I felt. In normal everyday life, I thought of myself as fairly independent and self-sufficient. Without really being aware of it, that attitude bled over into how it often was between me and God. But in Ireland, I didn’t know how things worked. I simply wasn’t familiar with the culture or how to navigate it. I wasn’t as able to blend in and take care of myself the way I could at home.

In Ireland, I had no choice but to rely on God’s protection. 

Besides sudden sustained sunshine, meeting only the kindness of people, and finding an elusive electric converter as detailed in Part I, there were many other ways God showed up for me in Ireland. But first, I had to be open to seeing and hearing Him. And that can be really difficult sometimes. 

I first became aware of how alone I was at dusk walking from my B&B in Tralee. I was trying to find the pub in town to have dinner. When I finally found it, the only people I remember seeing when I walked in the door were men. No children, no women. Just rowdy American white men. I was suddenly very aware of my surroundings and went on high alert. What if these guys are gross? Drunk? Violent? Pushy? Invasive? “Rescue me, Lord, from evildoers; protect me from the violent . . .” (Psalm 140:1).

There were maybe only 12 of them, but they seemed to take up the whole restaurant. I watched them ask for pictures with the pretty redheaded waitress, trying not to judge them too quickly. I just wanted to sit at the bar and eat dinner; I didn’t need disgust ruining my palette. I was starving and not about to let them stop me. I mustered all my confidence and marched up to the bar and sat down. Sure enough, they noticed me and asked a million questions, but generally were amazingly respectful (despite a comment or two I overheard about the waitress). Several of them said I was very brave for traveling alone in a tone of awe. One guy who I’d talked to for a while as I ate said that I reminded him of his daughter. That word gave me a lot of comfort. From that point on, I relaxed. I knew I’d be alright and that the guys wouldn’t give me reason to be afraid.   

Both in Dingle and Galway I stayed in hostels, meaning I was given a key to a room crammed with bunkbeds and several strangers each night. Anyone with access to the room had access to my stuff–my plane ticket information to get home was probably the most valuable and I kept my passport on me at all times. But, nothing was ever touched. Among strangers, it was very clear;

God provides protection. “The Lord protects the unwary; when I was brought low, he saved me” (Psalm 116:6). 

While in Tralee I visited the Rose Garden just a week after the annual rose festival. That’s where I met Jimmy who I call “the bike man,” a lovely old Irish gentleman who stopped his bike to greet me and strike up what became a long and very deep conversation. At one point, he said, “we always think about feeding the body, but we rarely take care to feed the soul.” In the green landscape with kind faces everywhere I went, my soul was certainly being fed. I was seeing God revealed on earth through beauty and kindness in the Irish community and it felt fresh every day. Jimmy asked me if I believed in heaven and when I said yes he asked me where it was. I don’t recall what I said exactly, but he smiled and said, “No, love. Heaven is here on earth.” Indeed, God is not somewhere “out there,” He’s right here. “The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress” (Psalm 46:7). 

There was a rumor that the tours of the Ring of Kerry had stopped running for the season, but my bed & breakfast hostess Mary kindly searched for me and found an excellent one. On the bus I met an older man named Michael with his wife. Michael was my buddy both on and off the bus. He told me story after story about his life and his family in his Irish accent, laughing often. He also kindly attempted to use my camera and take a few photos of me (these were pre-selfie stick times!). He reminded me of what my own grandfather would do or say and with the same love in his eyes. I thought how silly it was to be afraid when traveling could be like this. I spotted a quote at the Killarney bus station after the tour written in graffiti that oddly seemed intended just for me, “Fear is the only darkness.” In His provision of Michael to be my kind companion on this day of the journey, God had dispelled all my fears.  

God provides people to be with us on the journey. “Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:11).  

On my bus into Dingle, I chatted with two American students sitting across the aisle from me. After I got off the bus, I didn’t know my way so I stopped to look at my map. A dark-haired boy I’d seen on my bus asked if I needed directions and gave exact details as to how to find my hostel. He said he’d overheard me talking about Galway and suggested I go, saying I’d have the “time of my life” there. Then he left. I followed his directions and got to my hostel much more quickly than I would have otherwise–how long would it have taken me to realize I had to walk through a grocery store to get to the street I needed to find? That was a first for me, so probably all day. The dark-haired boy’s guidance and kindness was so vital to my first day in Dingle, even then I recognized it as a way God was looking out for me. And even more so after actually having the time of my life in Galway!

When I got to my last day in Dingle, I hadn’t explored much beyond the town and wanted to see more of the peninsula. I waited hours for a tour only to find out it was canceled because there was a 3-person minimum. I was the only one there. The tour guide, a big, blue-eyed man named John, saw the disappointment on my face there in the Dingle visitor center and had pity on me. He agreed to take me on a short private tour. We got to talking, and I ended up receiving a full tour, with a very special stop that I am still so grateful for, to the most beautiful beach in Ireland, Com Dhineol. It was magical, otherworldly. I must’ve had the most elated expression when I returned to the tour van because John told me that he’d said to himself, “She thinks she’s in heaven.” I quickly replied, “I am!” After many stops at cliff overlooks and beaches and ancient ruins, at the end of the tour the last thing I said to John was, “Thanks for showing me heaven!” He beamed back at me. 

The day I arrived in Galway, I was placed in a hostel room with two teenage girls. They invited me along with them to a club and though I was sleep deprived, at the time I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. I enjoyed adventuring with them, however, the soul-level peace I had experienced up to that point took a hit. I was suddenly in a fast paced, loud environment and saw things I’d rather not have seen. Thankfully, the next day, I took a tour of Connemara and spent most of the day at Kylemore Abbey, one of the most peaceful places I’ve been. The tour bus driver was extremely nice to me, and let me sit up front, in “the Queen’s Seat.” That tour, like John’s tour, was exactly what my soul craved–space, quiet, and time to enjoy life and the beauty of God’s creation. The day at the Abbey was one of my most joyful, ever. Without delay, God again provided another opportunity for the inner rest and restoration.   

God provides what we need. “But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one” (2 Thessalonians 3:3).

I fell asleep on the bus from Galway to Limerick, the very last leg of my journey in Ireland before heading to the airport. I cannot recall ever falling asleep in public when alone before, or since, for that matter. After two weeks of seeing God work over and over to protect me, I was finally able to accept God’s gift of rest, and trust that He was protecting me even while I slept. But still, it took the two-week journey through Ireland to get there. It takes a journey for many of us to experience and recognize God’s protection. Trusting God is simple but it’s not easy. But, it’s worth every bit of the journey. Press on friends! I encourage you to find His faithfulness out for yourself.  

In Part I, I wrote, “There is something about travel that heightens awareness, that allows us to tap into something that we have numbed ourselves to in our everyday surroundings.” I pray that we might be and remain aware and alert enough each day to notice and appreciate the countless ways God provides for us. 

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20).

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