Prayer is one of such privileges. It is a mysterious thing, really. God hears, even when the heart longs, laments or worships - unheard by any other ear. God hears, even when the heart beats afraid, angered or dejected - within a sturdy ribcage that conceals and muffles. God hears, even when a prayer is written on paper that is later trashed... or typed and deleted immediately afterwards. God hears, even when one feels that prayer is like water from a garden hose directed upward - it rains back on you just a little after it shoots up into the sky - you get soaked, the sky doesn't.
Tonight, I muse happily on the subject of prayer - not because all my prayers were answered the way I had wished. (I wish.) But because, God has been showing me every now and then, that He hears. He has heard. He will hear.
And He knows best what to do. Even though I may not agree with Him at first.
In 2012, I began praying about something that had been bothering me a lot since 2009 or so. I wrote it down in my "faith list" - what I trusted God to do - and committed it to God. Whenever I felt troubled about the matter, I would cry out to God - and because I often felt very troubled about it, I cried out a lot. It was quite the pathetic picture. Haha. Occasionally, I did think, in my little faith, that I would never be relieved. Of course, in due time, God gave me the courage (and opportunities) to face certain fears, do the things I had to do, and be as vulnerable as I needed to be. Recently, I was pleasantly shocked to discover that all my tears, groans and moans have not been in vain! Somehow, things had fallen into place, I had overcome my fears of a certain person, and I no longer turn and run a mile whenever I see the person approaching. (And I used to. My legs would automatically pirouette me 180 degrees and begin running for my life before I could stop them!) No more fight-or-flight physiological responses like before. Today, I can finally talk to this person as a friend.
When I look back, I realise how silly I have been. But then again, I am thankful that God did not despise my broken spirit and contrite heart. It has been such a journey of knowing a little more of who God is.
A poignant piece of Rachmaninoff (Prelude in C# minor, Op. 3, No. 2) does illustrate this particular journey of mine.
2 comments:
Prayer is one of such privileges. It is a mysterious thing, really. God hears, even when the heart longs, laments or worships - unheard by any other ear. God hears, even when the heart beats afraid, angered or dejected - within a sturdy ribcage that conceals and muffles. God hears, even when a prayer is written on paper that is later trashed... or typed and deleted immediately afterwards. God hears, even when one feels that prayer is like water from a garden hose directed upward - it rains back on you just a little after it shoots up into the sky - you get soaked, the sky doesn't.
DId you write this? Ministered to my heart :)))
Yes, I did. :P Thanks for your encouragement, Lyd.
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