Wednesday, August 14, 2013

And the hawk screams overhead

And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. Matthew 6:7-8

Then why do we pray?

We pray to remind ourselves of what is true. Prayer is truth-speaking into a situation and into our heart.  We do not need to persuade our Father of what is good, no best, for a situation (unless we are Moses standing in the gap for the people of Israel, and even then this was really Moses deciding that he was willing to continue with this bunch of ungrateful nincompoops–reminding himself of the truth, all of the power and love of God already tangibly and purposefully demonstrated and poured out for these ungrateful and unfaithful wretches just like me). 

We are reminding ourselves to leave it in His hands.  

Weston spoke of this in last night’s meditations.  He counted “Father” 19 times in John, chapter 14.  Not only did Christ come to destroy sin and death, but he also came that we might know the Father.  

The Father completes us, heals us, fulfills our longings and burning need for love. We are broken inside, searching for love, acceptance and security. This is the complete love that our Dad in heaven lavishes upon His kids. And I'm not taking anything away from the Son. But our Father accesses that part of our heart that just screams out for the love needed in the most innocent and childlike part of the soul. We are perfectly loved in the Father. Perfect love drives out fear. If God loves me completely what have I to fear?

Jesus says everything He does is not just Him, but the Father living in Him doing His work.

"You heard me say, 'I am going away and I am coming back to you.' If you loved Me, you would be glad I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I."

Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew Me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know Him and have seen Him."

Let us trust Jesus. It's all about coming to the Father.”

And this is what Jesus modeled for us, at the fulcrum point of all time and history and everything we can imagine, when every ounce of sunlit theory was stripped from prayer and it was all that He had left, as He knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane: Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me. Nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done.

Not my will, but Yours be done.

As I open up my prayer list of beloved Wednesday names.

Not my will, but Yours be done.

As I scan the unfamiliar student names neatly printed in my otherwise empty gradebook.

Not my will, but Yours be done.

And as I take one last stride through the neighborhood creosote silhouette against the billowing sunrise, mulling over ever-so-many details.

Not my will, but Yours be done.