Letters to God

It seems I’ve been writing a lot about prayer lately.  For whatever reason, the Lord really has me in His school of prayer right now.  I find myself oft asking the same request that the disciples did, “Lord, teach me to pray.”  The wonderful thing about such a request is that He stands ready, willing, and even eager to enroll us in this school of prayer.  I had another lesson in this process today, something that I wanted to share…

You see, I often run into a recurring problem when I pray.  I start off really praying and, almost without recognizing it, end up talking more to myself than to God.  Has that ever happened to you?  You think you’re praying and then, all of a sudden, you realize that you’re really just thinking to yourself?  Now, I’m not totally convinced that this isn’t part of prayer.   There have been times that this has happened where I really feel like the Lord was guiding my train of thought and actually speaking to me — albeit subtly — in this way.  But sometimes it is just simply my mind wandering.  It drives me crazy.

I really needed to spend some time praying tonight, and wanted to make sure that I didn’t “drift”.  I decided that maybe shaking things up a little might help… you know… different place, different time, different technique… something.  I often pray while I walk around my community.  And this is what I started to do today.  But for some reason, I felt like I should take my prayer journal with me this time.  As I walked, I stopped for a bit at a little gazebo in a small park.  Planting myself down on a picnic bench, I started thumbing through the pages.  When I reached the blank pages toward the back, the idea occurred to me to write a letter to God.  Almost without thinking about it, I began writing… just pouring out my heart to Him.  It was odd, because it didn’t feel like writing a letter at all.  Oddly enough, it reminded me of when I used to sit in church with my brothers.  Not being able to talk out loud, we would get out a notebook and write back and forth to each other.  Instead of passing the notebook back and forth, we would just sit there and watch while the other one wrote… reading right along with every new word.  This is the image that came to my mind as I wrote… not some letter to be sent or communicated at some later date, but the image of my Father in Heaven, leaning over me, hand on my shoulder, reading as I prayed in ink and paper instead of audible words.

The cool thing about it was that it kept my communication focused on Him… kept my mind from wandering.  It was also cool that, after just a few minutes of this, I found myself putting the notebook aside and continuing my prayer in my heart.  It ended up being a very focused, very rewarding time with God.

I don’t think this will be my “new form” of prayer, by any means, but it’s certainly something I may turn to again when I’m not feeling particularly connected in my prayer life.

The Homesick Christian…

Do you ever get homesick?  Yes, of course, you do.  I do too.  But do you ever get homesick while sitting at home, with your family and friends around you?   Maybe I’m weird, but I do… a lot.  I’ll be sitting around with family and friends, enjoying an evening, eating good food, having good conversation, and then that feeling will hit.  It’s like this little nagging sadness.  It gives me an unsettled, restless sort of feeling that makes me wish I were…. well…. home, oddly enough.

I realize, looking back on my life, that I’ve had this feeling for a long time.  It’s kind of a subtle thing, though.  It doesn’t always come across like homesickness.  It usually strikes as a perceived need that has to be met.  I can easily tell myself that, when I feel unsettled, it’s because I need a nice big plate of comfort food…. mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, turkey… you know the drill.  Sometimes, when the feeling strikes a little harder, I’ll feel like I need to buy something.  I can rationalize that I feel unsettled because I don’t have the DVD I’ve been wanting, or the flat screen television that would really complete my home, or the car that would more reliably carry me around town.  When the feeling strikes even harder, I begin to think it’s because I’m not in the right career, or haven’t yet found the right hobbies or activities for myself.  When the feeling strikes really hard, I begin to think I’m living in the wrong part of the world.  I tell myself that if I could just live in the right place, I’d finally feel settled and at home.  Have you ever noticed that we spend almost all of our lives looking forward to “the thing” that will finally make everything good?   The right car, the right job, the perfect body, a fat bank account, an early retirement, a vacation, a winning lottery ticket?  But the funny thing (well, funny in a tragic sort of way) is that, if we are lucky or blessed enough to actually get a hold of some of these things, the feeling always returns again.  We might be happy for a day or two, but then another “thing” raises its ugly head and we’re off in pursuit of it, convincing ourselves that this new thing will be the thing that finally completes us.

C.S. Lewis addresses this beautifully in his book, “The Problem of Pain.” (I’ve added a few thoughts in italics):

“The Christian doctrine of suffering explains, I believe, a very curious fact about the world we live in. The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world; but joy, pleasure and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe (peacefully settled), but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy.  It is not hard to see why.  The security we crave (if we were actually given it) would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and (become) an obstacle to return to God; a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe or a football match, have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.”

Having read this and given it some thought, I realize that my moments of greatest homesickness usually come after — and sometimes even during — these moments of refreshing.  It is as if I catch a glimpse of my real home in these fleeting moments.   I know that a few ticks of the clock will find me back in this foreign country again, looking forward to the next brief rest at a “pleasant inn” and, ultimately, for the day I finally get to my true home.

Until then, I think I’ll try a new tactic.  Rather than contend with this homesickness by pursuing “things” that I think will settle me, I will instead pursue these “pleasant inns” that God has mercifully set up for us here…  “a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with our friends, a bathe or a football match.”

I’m Glad I Don’t Live Here

I’ve always been one to watch the news.  It’s never really depressed me before.  Or maybe it has, but just not like it has lately.  It’s getting overwhelming, honestly.  I can’t think in thousands of dollars, let alone billions.  I can’t comprehend the mountain of debt we are piling up for our future generations.  I hear that China is the one loaning us all of this “bail-out” money.   As the Bible says, the borrower is slave to the lender.  I’m not sure being China’s slave is a great American solution.  Having said that, though, it’s not like I have some great new solution to offer.  I trust that our President is doing his very best out of a true love and loyalty to this country.  But something tells me our past generations — like the one Tom Brokaw calls the “Greatest Generation” — would have handled this differently.  It seems to me they would have been willing to sacrifice so much more than we are in order for our kids and grandkids to be in a better situation rather than a far worse one.  Anyway, I’ve wandered from my point.

Whenever I start freaking out about all of this, an image from the Bible flashes into my mind.  It is an image of a very old Jacob standing in front of the Pharoah of Egypt.   He must look his age at this time because Pharaoh’s first question is “how old are you?”  It is Jacob’s answer to this question that keeps me hopeful, keeps my focus on the right perspective, and calms my fears.

He says, “The days of the years of my pilgrimage are one hundred and thirty years.”

Why do I find this so encouraging?  Because Jacob teaches us a great lesson about the perspective we are to have as God’s elect.  He was well aware that this place — this world — was not his home.  It was just a land he was a pilgrim in.  By definition, a pilgrim is one who is on a journey to someplace else, a final place.  Jacob held on to this world loosely, looking forward to the world and reward to come.

God is doing something in this economic mess.  Some say He is bringing judgment.  Some say He is just allowing natural consequences to occur.  Some say it is the initial happenings that will set the stage for the Second Coming of Jesus Himself.  Some say it’s just dumb stuff that happens and God could care less.  Honestly, I have no idea.  And I’m not sure it matters.  What I do know is this… God has either ordained this to happen or has at least allowed it.  Either way, God remains in control.  I have this strong feeling that, if we could see this from God’s perspective, we would be rejoicing for the good He was going to bring from it.  If I had a peek of what God was doing, I would be rejoicing at every new gloom and doom newscast because I could see where it was all leading.  Again, I have no idea where it is leading, but I do have faith in God.  And I know that I am called to praise Him in the good times and the bad.  It is not a prerequisite that I understand what God is doing before I praise Him.  I can so easily look back in my own life on some of the worst times I’ve gone through and praise Him now for what He accomplished in my life through them.  Why would I now doubt that He is doing the same as He has always done before?

So, in this mess of money, greed, and panic, I choose to praise and thank God.  If I can’t see how to praise Him for the world around me, I will at least praise Him that I don’t truly live here.   I am a citizen of the world that waits for those that are His.  I am just a pilgrim here.