A pile of old journals

Father God,

A pile of old prayer journals lay scattered on the floor by my bed. Love letters to You, confessions, strivings, and Bible studies from the time I was 11-years-old pour from the many pages. I am on a quest to remind myself what You have already done in my life, already said, already promised. I am on a quest to ground myself once more in the assurance of Your faithfulness.

In so doing, my weaknesses become more and more glaring. Father, I was praying the same prayers over ten years ago that I still pray today. However, my innocence and trust in You were yet unshaken, yet untried. It’s been a long road since my childlike faith blazed in my heart.

I am wrong.

My desire for a baby – for You to do a miracle on my behalf – has become a glossy idol in my life. While the gift is good and my deep desire natural, my constant questioning is leading me further and further from simple trust. I don’t think You mind my hurting pleas or soul-searching, but I have left You little room to comfort me, to be my All-in-All, to fill my life with OTHER good things.

I am so sorry. Please forgive me for making a desire for a beautiful gift an idol in my heart. Please wash me and cleanse me in Your blood, my fount of forgiveness and salvation. Teach me how to put dreams in their proper places. May I ask with great expectancy, “What’s next, Papa? What good thing am I to embark upon now? How may I taste and see that You are good? How may I love and delight in those around me? How may I minister Your good news? How may I wait with passionate patience?”

These words are hard, Lord, to put out there in the open. This confession, this transparency is not what I desire to write. But, it is good to walk in the light. It is good to beckon others into the light with me. It is good to humble myself over and over again.

May It Be To Me According To Your Word . . .

~~~

Too Busy

By Lauren Hasz

I looked and behold, I saw my Beloved afar off.

I saw Him as a stag beckoning me.

He was calling me to the high places.

He was calling me to precious community.

But, I did not listen, I did not hearken.

I was preoccupied, too busy.

For in that moment I had tried to give something else His place.

May I never disobey again, may I not be too busy.

I missed my breath of cool air.

My mistake left me stripped and bare.

never – oh may it be never – will I give something Your deserved place.

~Poem found in my 14-year-old prayer journal