Prayer of the Children

Came across this long-forgotten song last week. May we always have ears to hear.

A Goal

I want to be more amazed by God's grace than I am by my own sinfullness.

Invisible

Our God is the God of hidden things
When I am in my secret place
Or in the crowd, calling out
When I am on the stage, hidden behind my costume
He sees me
He knows me
With God there is no Anonymous
No Vail
No Invisible Man

The heavy burden of secret sorrows
Press down on us
I laugh to hide the tears
I smile to hide the pain
I know the act all too well

Our friends walk through us
We are not people, but objects
Symbols
Even my enemies have forgotten me

The pit of sin has trapped us
I lie bruised and bleeding in the darkness
In fear, I struggle to hide myself
Like a middle-aged man
Trying in vain to hide a bald spot under too little hair
And not even fooling himself

We pretend
And yet the burden remains
We long to be found
Or perhaps find ourselves

Our God is the God of mysteries
Confused in the darkness
Or in the crowd, crying out
When I am on the stage, hiding behind my mask
He remembers me
He loves me

Laziness as a Habit

I guess I'll just have to be blunt. I'm lazy. Undisciplined.

I took piano lessons this past summer. I love music. Honest. And yet my music books would sit on the piano bench gathering dust until the day before my lesson--or sometimes the HOUR before my lesson--until at the last moment I would try to cram. It didn't work when I took trig (either the first or second time...) and it didn't work with piano, either.

Occasionally, I could fake it. I would talk big to my teacher--"I loved this part of the song [because I actually know how to play it...], but I really struggled with this portion [I think...though I've only attempted it once so I don't really know]."

I'm not a horrible musician, but my talent is certainly not such that I could ever go professional...When I don't practice for my lesson, the stakes are not that high, though I have essentially thrown away some money.

But what about when this lack of discipline, this laziness, comes out in other areas of my life? What about when it effects my walk with God?

How consistent am I about reading the Bible? Setting aside time for quiet, focused prayer? Enriching and being enriched by a small community of believers?

When I am sad or confused, I devour my Bible like the essential food to the soul that it is. I fast. I drive to my favorite grassy field, that place where God met me so many years ago, so I can talk to Him and listen for His voice, uninterrupted, undistracted. When I am joyful, I revisit my favorite scriptures. I sing psalms of praise.

But then there's day to day life. That takes discipline, consistency. So often in the "bleh" of life, I'll perhaps read a few verses from the Bible (and not really think about them), breathe a quick "thank you for Your amazing blessings...please help me to follow You." And I'll collapse into bed. But would I really throw my leftover time to the Lord of my Life like that if I was really trying to let Him be Lord of my Life?

I hope I'd never treat a spouse or child of mine that way. Our relationship would suffer. Fizzle. So why do I treat my most important relationship that way?

I want to serve God's children more faithfully. Hear His voice more clearly in the little moments of life. Allow Him to shine through me to others in a deeper, fuller way.

But as I reach out, I must continue getting to know Him better, growing deeper in my relationship with Him.

He is loving, holy, good. Why would I settle for anything less?

In for all I'm Worth

I went to visit my Dad this summer. Dad lives by the ocean in California. I mean, right by the ocean. I could hear the waves splash and crash as I lay in bed. I could walk along the beach before most people woke up each morning.

The ocean is amazing. I live without an ocean. I grew up without the ocean. When Mom says "Let's go to the beach," she's talking about the reservoir. I think the thing that really stuns me about the ocean is it's size. You can't see across it. The waves aren't made by speed boats. It's not a reservoir.

I loved walking beside the ocean, feeling the soft sand in my toes--the way it burned the bottoms of my feet one moment, and the next I would be shocked by a cold splash of water. But I really wanted to swim. I'm not much of a swimmer, but I was drawn to the ocean somehow, so I didn't want to go all the way to a California beach only get wet up to my knees.

So on my last day with Dad, I woke up especially early, put on my swimsuit, walked down the sidewalk, across the street, and through the sand, to the edge of the water. And there I waited. And waited. And waited. I'd take a few steps in...and then a few steps out. The water was just so cold!

The sun was getting higher in the sky. I knew I'd have to leave soon. My heart sank as I thought about the opportunity I might be too chicken to take. At last, nervous, expectant, excited, I took a deep breath, counted to three, and ran into the splashing waves for all I was worth.

"IT"S COLD!!!" I screamed, drawing the attention of the people who had begun to arrive, and filling my mouth with salty water. "I'M GOING TO FREEZE!"

I felt myself swept up, shoved, no longer in control of myself, but moved along by the waves. It was amazing. Glorious.

All this to say that lately I've been holding back. I know I've been holding back. I'll take a few steps toward my God, then get nervous, or lazy, or...or something and back away.

I see the beauty, the vastness...It's unlike anything else I know. It would be a tragedy, the tragedy of life, to say I only went knee deep, that I never swam in this Ocean. And yet I continue to come up with a million reasons not to.

So tonight I come again. I stand here again, nervous, expectant, excited as I take that deep breath. And I'm counting to three. One, two...