Tag Archives: Vulnerability

Supplication

Posted on by under Prayer

Journal 2018

I learned to pray out loud at my daddy’s knee. Every morning and every night without fail, our little family of five gathered together to read the Bible and pray, starting with the youngest (me) and progressing to the eldest. If I hesitated in my prayer, Daddy would prompt, “Help me, God, not to fight with my brother and sister.” (I’m not sure God answered that prayer till we were grownups.)

As a child and into young adulthood, every Wednesday night our church gathered for corporate prayer. My current place of worship prays together through digital media or sends emails listing prayer needs. Healing of the body seems to be the main focus of our requests. Is that because it’s the focus of our hearts? Or is it simply the safest thing to pray for in public? I remember a young man one time who asked our Sunday school class to pray for his emotional struggle. That stopped us cold (how could he be so vulnerable we thought), till someone jumped in to try to fix him. Ouch.

In my private prayers, I sometimes use the acronym ACTS (A = Adoration, C = Confession, T = Thanksgiving, and S = Supplication). I know what to do with the A, C, and T, but supplication or intercessory prayer in a group setting continues to baffle me.

When it’s just me and Jesus, my prayers are honest and heart related. When I’m in an inner healing prayer session with a client, it’s an intimate, vulnerable setting with safe people. I know what to pray for as we focus on lies and truth and release of pain. But when I’m in a Sunday school class or Bible study, I only hear a grocery list of concerns about doctor visits and travel safety. Those are legitimate needs, but it’s sad to me that we don’t feel safe with each other in corporate settings. And so, though I do pray for physical healing, I often pray for the person’s heart as well.

What has been your experience with corporate prayer?

Intimacy with God

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace

Journal 2020

In the beginning stages of a human love relationship, there’s an emotional high, an excitement, a drive to spend as much time together as possible. Then life happens, and you struggle to work through disappointments that the fairytale doesn’t exist. The same can happen when you begin a love relationship with God. The initial joy of finding a perfect partner in life gets buried under disillusionment and painful circumstances. You find He’s not what you first expected.

Yes, I know Jesus loved me enough to die for me, and that knowledge is all good, but it doesn’t impact me emotionally. I’ve heard it for 65 years in thousands of sermons, and somehow now I’m obligated to serve Him whether I like it or not. I’m in this marriage now because I said “I do” when I was five years old, but it’s not an equal partnership. He is everything, and I am nothing. And maybe I hold back or cringe if I sense Him coming on too strong—like He wants something from me, and I may as well give in, whether I like it or not because He’s going to get His own way in the end anyway. “Thy will be done” might mean there’s suffering to follow, and what if I prefer to stay in my comfort zone, guarding my heart and trying to shield myself from pain?

And somewhere, somehow, a part of my heart holds out, self-sufficient, anticipating harsh judgment from the God of the Old Testament, surprised at His betrayal, and believing He expects absolute perfection, surrender, and obedience to His will.

Through time, as I work through my painful childhood memories, my relationship with my husband begins to heal and grow and deepen, and I find my intimacy with my creator begins to change as well. I learn more of His compassionate heart, never condemning me or forcing my will. He is the embodiment of I Corinthians 13 love. In the end, when I allow my guard to stand down, and I embrace what is to follow, there’s sweet fellowship and excitement at renewed intimacy and a deepening passion that feels safe. I’m returning to my first love.