Prayer and the Silence... a very personal post
My husband, teacher_bear, submitted an entry about the following book excerpt. I wanted to share it with my own thoughts following it, as well.
Our very favorite Christian author is Phillip Yancey, and he has written a book entitled Prayer . This is a boxed quote ( short segments from other people) from someone named Joanne, and this one just rang so true to me. Bear gave it to me to read, and it made me cry. I will put it in a cut so you can read it if you want to.
Still Waiting by Joanne
If you had asked me as a young Christian whether I believed in prayer, I would have quickly said yes. I would have told you about the time I spun out in the snow and didn't get hurt , or the time I dropped a house key somewhere in my '74 Dodge Dart and couldn't find it for hours, until I prayed. Maybe God takes care of neophyte believers, I don't know. He doesn't seem to take care of old timers, though.
I could list probably a hundred prayers that haven't been answered. I'm not speaking of selfish prayers, but important prayers: God, keep my kids safe, keep them away from the wrong crowd. All three ended up in trouble with the law, abusing drugs and alcohol.
I've got to say, Jesus' story of the persistent widow who keeps pestering the judge sours. Thousands of people pray for a Christian leader who has cancer, and he dies. What did Jesus mean by that parable - that we keep beating our heads against a wall?
I've been living at the edge of the abyss for several years now. Yes, I have had close times, have felt the presence of God, and these memories alone are what keep me from checking out. Two times, maybe three, I have heard from God. Once the voice seemed audible. I was driving to the hospital as a young women just out of college, having learned that I had leukemia, when these words from Isaiah came sharply to mind, "Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." I cling to those few memories, and get nothing else, no new sign that God is listening.
I'd guess, maybe 20 percent of my prayers get anything like the answer I want. Over time, I give up. I pray for those things I believe will happen. Or I just don't pray. I review my journal and see God doing less and less. I get mad. Like a child, I stop talking. I'm passive-aggressive with God. I put him off. Maybe later.
I went to a mentor and poured out my soul, describing in detail all I've been through in the past few years with my health and especially with my kids. "What do I do?" I asked.
He sat there for the longest time and said, "I don't know, Joanne." He sighed. I waited for words of wisdom. None came. That's how it is with prayer too.
I really think it is a miracle that I have such a strong faith. I had a baby who was carried to full term after 7 miscarriages. All through the pregnancy, I was scared as i had counseled so many other people who had lost babies (I'm a grief counselor) and I knew all the things that could go wrong. Right during labor, something went wrong. Noah (baby's name) had become entangled in his cord, and had it wrapped around his neck for at least 12 hours. During the 8 hours I was at the hospital, the nurse was panic-stricken because the fetal monitor showed that the baby, Noah, was in distress and the doctor refused to do anything about it. REFUSED. Refused to call my regular doctor, refused to do surgery.
Finally, he ordered me to have a C-section (I'd had 2 before) and I was praying frantically on the gurney for the Lord to please take care of my baby, please please let him be healthy, please protect him, protect me but ESPECIALLY protect the baby.
He was born brain dead.
They tried to revive him but he'd been without oxygen for at least 20 minutes. He lived 30 days, and never opened his eyes or moved.
How could I trust a God who allowed this to happen? I don't know, but I do. It took a long time, believe me, for me to recover. However, I've heard the voice of the Lord, that still small voice, and I live for it. It's true, He answers new believer's prayers like crazy, but for us oldies... not so much. But when He does, or when He does speak, or we know for certain He has intervened, it is so outrageously wonderful that we keep trusting, keep loving, keep serving.
I pray every day. I believe in prayer. But it is so hard when so many times they go unanswered. I know, some will say that His answer is NO... but really, I've found that most of the time there is silence. But I LIVE for the times when He makes Himself known. I'm hooked, just like an addict. I love Him so very much, and His touch has been powerful in my life... I've experienced far more than most people. Still... it is so quiet...
It's especially hard living here, as you tend to find two groups of people: the super-spiritual who are very legalistic and judgemental, or the hell-raising, red-necked non-believers. There are a few inbetween, of course, but that's the majority. And we fit in neither category.
These are just some very personal thoughts I've shared with you. I'm not interested in a theological discussion-- there was a point in my life when I would have loved nothing more. Now, I love peace much more than winning an argument. I hope you'll share some of your thoughts... but please, no arguing.
Our very favorite Christian author is Phillip Yancey, and he has written a book entitled Prayer . This is a boxed quote ( short segments from other people) from someone named Joanne, and this one just rang so true to me. Bear gave it to me to read, and it made me cry. I will put it in a cut so you can read it if you want to.
Still Waiting by Joanne
If you had asked me as a young Christian whether I believed in prayer, I would have quickly said yes. I would have told you about the time I spun out in the snow and didn't get hurt , or the time I dropped a house key somewhere in my '74 Dodge Dart and couldn't find it for hours, until I prayed. Maybe God takes care of neophyte believers, I don't know. He doesn't seem to take care of old timers, though.
I could list probably a hundred prayers that haven't been answered. I'm not speaking of selfish prayers, but important prayers: God, keep my kids safe, keep them away from the wrong crowd. All three ended up in trouble with the law, abusing drugs and alcohol.
I've got to say, Jesus' story of the persistent widow who keeps pestering the judge sours. Thousands of people pray for a Christian leader who has cancer, and he dies. What did Jesus mean by that parable - that we keep beating our heads against a wall?
I've been living at the edge of the abyss for several years now. Yes, I have had close times, have felt the presence of God, and these memories alone are what keep me from checking out. Two times, maybe three, I have heard from God. Once the voice seemed audible. I was driving to the hospital as a young women just out of college, having learned that I had leukemia, when these words from Isaiah came sharply to mind, "Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." I cling to those few memories, and get nothing else, no new sign that God is listening.
I'd guess, maybe 20 percent of my prayers get anything like the answer I want. Over time, I give up. I pray for those things I believe will happen. Or I just don't pray. I review my journal and see God doing less and less. I get mad. Like a child, I stop talking. I'm passive-aggressive with God. I put him off. Maybe later.
I went to a mentor and poured out my soul, describing in detail all I've been through in the past few years with my health and especially with my kids. "What do I do?" I asked.
He sat there for the longest time and said, "I don't know, Joanne." He sighed. I waited for words of wisdom. None came. That's how it is with prayer too.
I really think it is a miracle that I have such a strong faith. I had a baby who was carried to full term after 7 miscarriages. All through the pregnancy, I was scared as i had counseled so many other people who had lost babies (I'm a grief counselor) and I knew all the things that could go wrong. Right during labor, something went wrong. Noah (baby's name) had become entangled in his cord, and had it wrapped around his neck for at least 12 hours. During the 8 hours I was at the hospital, the nurse was panic-stricken because the fetal monitor showed that the baby, Noah, was in distress and the doctor refused to do anything about it. REFUSED. Refused to call my regular doctor, refused to do surgery.
Finally, he ordered me to have a C-section (I'd had 2 before) and I was praying frantically on the gurney for the Lord to please take care of my baby, please please let him be healthy, please protect him, protect me but ESPECIALLY protect the baby.
He was born brain dead.
They tried to revive him but he'd been without oxygen for at least 20 minutes. He lived 30 days, and never opened his eyes or moved.
How could I trust a God who allowed this to happen? I don't know, but I do. It took a long time, believe me, for me to recover. However, I've heard the voice of the Lord, that still small voice, and I live for it. It's true, He answers new believer's prayers like crazy, but for us oldies... not so much. But when He does, or when He does speak, or we know for certain He has intervened, it is so outrageously wonderful that we keep trusting, keep loving, keep serving.
I pray every day. I believe in prayer. But it is so hard when so many times they go unanswered. I know, some will say that His answer is NO... but really, I've found that most of the time there is silence. But I LIVE for the times when He makes Himself known. I'm hooked, just like an addict. I love Him so very much, and His touch has been powerful in my life... I've experienced far more than most people. Still... it is so quiet...
It's especially hard living here, as you tend to find two groups of people: the super-spiritual who are very legalistic and judgemental, or the hell-raising, red-necked non-believers. There are a few inbetween, of course, but that's the majority. And we fit in neither category.
These are just some very personal thoughts I've shared with you. I'm not interested in a theological discussion-- there was a point in my life when I would have loved nothing more. Now, I love peace much more than winning an argument. I hope you'll share some of your thoughts... but please, no arguing.