Prayer #8: In the No
Emily: "Good lord in heaven ... why don't they have drive-thru communion?"
Prayer #8: In the No
Always rushing, always moving. Over-scheduled and under-resourced. One activity after another, each requiring precision in duration and intensity, so that the next event does not fall by the wayside.
This is my life, God. It has been my life for many years, and is entirely of my creation. I was so overwhelmed at one point that I scaled back out of necessity, but my calendar entries have crept back to previous flood marks.
How am I supposed to fit you in among such hecticness? Where's the time for prayer? Do I have to schedule that, too? (Apparently so. Exhibit A: this blog exercise.)
So much commotion ...
Am I running away from the silence?
(Yes, says a little voice.)
Am I afraid of what I might hear?
(Definite yes, the voice chirps.)
What could be so bad about a conversation with God?
(Oh, plenty! You could find out He wants your life to go a different route, that something you're doing is not right in His eyes, that you're called to stand up for Christ ... ggaaaaaacccckkkkk!)
And that's when I choke my conscience, throw it aside, and plan more busy-ness. It's easier that way.
But it's not better.
You know I know it. Hence the repeated invitations, the gentle summons, the shoulder taps. You are a wily salesperson, Lord, I have to hand it to you. Very persistent. You're going to make me quiet if it kills me -- and it very well might!
Sigh. I'm saying no to the wrong things. I'm saying no to the one activity that could bring me peace. Yet I'm saying yes to all the commitments that crush me. I sense a priority switch coming on.
That was your goal all along, wasn't it, Lord? Like I said, very wily. It's like you're omnipotent or something.
I promise to practice the right no's, in pursuit of the ultimate YES. --Amen
Prayer #8: In the No
Always rushing, always moving. Over-scheduled and under-resourced. One activity after another, each requiring precision in duration and intensity, so that the next event does not fall by the wayside.
This is my life, God. It has been my life for many years, and is entirely of my creation. I was so overwhelmed at one point that I scaled back out of necessity, but my calendar entries have crept back to previous flood marks.
How am I supposed to fit you in among such hecticness? Where's the time for prayer? Do I have to schedule that, too? (Apparently so. Exhibit A: this blog exercise.)
So much commotion ...
Am I running away from the silence?
(Yes, says a little voice.)
Am I afraid of what I might hear?
(Definite yes, the voice chirps.)
What could be so bad about a conversation with God?
(Oh, plenty! You could find out He wants your life to go a different route, that something you're doing is not right in His eyes, that you're called to stand up for Christ ... ggaaaaaacccckkkkk!)
And that's when I choke my conscience, throw it aside, and plan more busy-ness. It's easier that way.
But it's not better.
You know I know it. Hence the repeated invitations, the gentle summons, the shoulder taps. You are a wily salesperson, Lord, I have to hand it to you. Very persistent. You're going to make me quiet if it kills me -- and it very well might!
Sigh. I'm saying no to the wrong things. I'm saying no to the one activity that could bring me peace. Yet I'm saying yes to all the commitments that crush me. I sense a priority switch coming on.
That was your goal all along, wasn't it, Lord? Like I said, very wily. It's like you're omnipotent or something.
I promise to practice the right no's, in pursuit of the ultimate YES. --Amen