The Day I Refused To “Pray”

Today I refuse to pray.  Instead, I climb higher up our winding staircase.  Making way, to the carpet.  Calling.  Next to our bed.  The place tears rest when I can’t seem to go on….

In my own strength.

And it is there.  In the quiet. The stillness.  I close the door to the world.

Only light shining.  Through the double doors.  Looking over our field. Where our balcony lies.  Where the light of His promised presence, ever waits, in the heart of each of His people.

Suns first light.  And although I pray every morning.  This day is different.  I need more than ritualistic patterns that have proven meaningful….

At finding God.  Hearing God.  Speaking to God.  Or reading about God.

I need an encounter.  A real living, true encounter with the same power that took Jesus from the cross….and placed Him alive in the hearts of each of his children.

Yes, a divine encounter that dimly lit castles hide in.  His presence.  Where towers built by man simply crumble, insignificant.

Yes, that’s what I need.  To crumble.

So, I lower.  On knees heavy with weight.  Head bowed low at the thought of….A great God.  A God who has met me here faithfully.

And why is it, every time I fall, I rise.  Different?

And there is just something about the physical that reflects what’s happening in the spiritual.  
Here standing for far too long.  Erect.  Straight.  Strong.  It’s time I get my head below my heart.  Knees bent. Posture submitted……to the only Worthy One. 

And it is as if, fortresses of man, mount upon my back, like a camel, front knees bent, hunched with regret, thirsty for water….

Then, off my down turned head.  Weight falls, slowly.  Through tears.  On a carpet, I meet Him, the feet of Jesus.

And it is here.  In the quiet.  Of my nothingness.  Thoughts unwind, unravel, unleash their hook from my spirit.  And turn like an arrow down the straight, narrow path.  Of God.

And though I daily, dig deeper, open Word, spend time speaking to my Savior.

The knee bent posture of surrender.  Finds itself.  Relieving heavy burdens.  That I have longed brushed under carpets.  And how ironic that it is the carpet now that relieves them.

And it is there.  I refuse to move. Like the woman begging the evil task-master.  Like Jacob wrestling insistently.  With God.  Waiting.  Refusing to leave.  This stubbornness.   His stillness.  

Until, He blesses me.  Because, “I can’t do this alone.”

And too often I listen to the world preach, “Be stronger.  Have courage.  Stand up and be men of purpose.”

But, it is not until we lower, that we can rise.  Not until we are made nothing…that we can be all God calls us to be.

Yet, I have found when I am weakest.  That is when Jesus finds me.  Most.  And I don’t need to go looking.  He finds me.  That precious sacred moment….

I am all out of me.

Undone.  On my face.  Resting.  Waiting.  Then, warring for those He places their burdens within me.

One by one.  Tears shedding, for specific people.  And more and more I am seeing….

It is not in the shouting where our enemy trembles.  But, in that quiet, one on one hour, humbled before our Lord.

And isn’t it in that wrestling.  Those moment entangled in the heart of His love….that we touch the flesh of God.  That we come in contact in a way that no logical prayer rehearsed ever could.  That separate prayer detached from real souls thought. One that starts in the mind….but fails to slip into the heart, to where it’s consumed, broken, dancing in uni-some with God.

And isn’t that the purpose in prayer….To get so close that we touch the heart of God?

For if, He knows what we need even before we ask…..why pray?

Is it not to draw us closer.  To pull our wayward hearts.  Draw us nearer, an unshakable,  immovable, everlasting God.

And I am mingled.  Here.  Mingled in His love.  That place where I fade.  Losing freely all identity.  All will.  All way. Losing the camel of weight that says, “Have to”, “need to”….”do”.

And it is here where His yoke becomes easy.  Not in the reciting scripture ritualistically, or claiming words of faith trying to convince people….that all is now under control.

But, that homely place where I am home. The meek, quiet where I am caught up in the cloud of His knowing. That surrendered place where God always shows up.

On the second floor.  Where legs carry me up.  Out.  Apart. Away.  From it all.

Yes, it is there….it floats up.  The person I thought I was.  All I had wanted, or needed, or replaced…..Jesus with.

And just as quickly.  It lifts.  The great cloud of His Presence resting upon me.

And just as unintentionally, as coming into His presence.  He parts.  Or maybe it was I who separate….because I didn’t tarry with the Lord any longer.

And it is days like today that I rejoice to wait on God.  Seek Him out, not out of have to’s or duty.  But pressed in.  Continually reaching.  And clinging to my only saving grace, to draw near me.

Here.  Where mere words have no meaning.  Where speaking, is done with hearts, instead of from feeble minds of reason.

And my soul gets set free as it tangles with the heart of Jesus.  Free from worry.  Standing without the weight keeping me.  Where He speaks once we come into relationship with Him….

“Rise.  Now go and start doing….”

Willingly.

Reaching for fruit in refusing.  Dutiful religion.  Seeking Jesus, only in close personal relationship….

Where men have no glory.  No accolades.   No strength.

The weakest of places….

Where I come not to pray…..

But simply bow before my King.

Claiming I am nothing.  And giving Him alone…

Everything.

All praise.

(Linking with Emily, Proverbs 31, Thankful Thursday)