Praying the Wrong Prayers: How to Talk to the Father
It is late; I might have blogger’s remorse in the morning. It is the walk of shame many a female blogger has walked, the morning after the epiphany; “Crap, did I hit publish? Where is my bra? Oh no… did I order pizza…are those Snicker’s wrappers?”
Back off, I never promised you a health and wellness blog.
Alas, I am awake, and words are fresh… and I have not been out in some random bar, it was a very specific bar, with chips and salsa. I have been steeped in heavy conversation with a dear friend. Isn’t it refreshing and precious to look back and still have the hope of the forward?
The memory of what was longed for and the faith in something that will make everything okay?
Having been with this precious soul, one of my most treasured friends, a spiritual giant in my life, I am struck by where we have been, and how far we have come… and what we have right in front of us.
As I drove home, well past a decent human’s curfew, I realized how much of our conversation has changed. We raised babies together, and I remember many a mile walked lamenting huge hopes and mammoth fears.
Some of the hopes dashed, many a fear… conquered.
But much of the conversation landed on the topic of our Heavenly Father. And not in the churchy, “We will need to repent for these ½ price well margaritas!” And more like, “Oh my… He is so good.”
And friend, He is.
He is so good.
So I must tell you, before it leaves me, while it is most fresh.
He is your Father, He hears you, He knows you, He adores you.
As I drove through the blinking yellow lights of this sleepy old hometown, I remembered how I used to approach Him.
Every single prayer, petition, and plea was wrought with remorse, repent, and relentless bargain. My voice was laced with shame and caked with resolution, a resolve to be more, try harder, and do good. And every single day, I failed to be that which I believed would set me free.
Praying the Wrong Prayers.
If only. Yes, if only my kids were better, my marriage perfected, my thighs more toned, my self-control in check and my budget balanced, yes, then He would hear me… then He would bless.
My worship was the chorus of wager. Regrettably, my tithe a filthy tribute to a price already paid. More often than not, my confession a clanging gong of that which I believed defined me… and a lie I alleged me humble, undeserving and a wretch only kind of saved.
Yes, I was lost, yes I was found, still praying the wrong prayers, thinking the cross only accomplished some of the mess, the rest was up to a mess like me.
Surely, He saved a wretch like me, sadly, I believed I then should fix myself, for He wasn’t able to help someone… as awful as me.
Indeed, worship as wager…
As I write this now, I am so free. I won’t go back, you can’t make me.
To converse with my Jesus is the truth of my salvation, the veil is torn, and nothing can or ever will separate us from Him… no, nothing, not even that.
All of these years later things I begged change are the same. And yes, I know that it is okay. I know He answers differently, perfectly and with my best in mind.To converse with my Jesus is the truth of my salvation, the veil is torn, and nothing can or ever will separate us from Him… no, nothing, not even that. Click To Tweet
The greatest travesty in the message of our Salvation is that we must now try to be different, so that He will eventually adore.
No, you are different.
You are whole, complete, unblemished, perfect.
All that is missing is the right kinds of prayers.
You needn’t fast, feast, kneel, or bow… if you chose to, do so because you love, not for the glory, not to catch up with the magnificent cross.
No, you cannot catch up to the cross, don’t bother.
Let your song be that of worship.
Let your prayers be a conversation.
Your words, let them be the wholeness of who you are, for He is fully cognizant of your red hot mess.
Still, He adores.
He delights in you.
You walk in His favor.
Let your prayers become ones of true confession, The primary Greek word for “confess” is homologeo which means “to say the same thing” and then “agree, admit, acknowledge.”
Amen, He is for you, with you, and delights in your discussion. You need not beg His forgiveness or His blessing; He attended to the first, and will never forget the last. You are His beloved; He is totally invested in you, unto His death.
Yes, it is too late at night for such lofty prose, still my heart and mind are alive with the fellowship of a sister who knows my God, has taught me much of grace, and learned much with me too.
And my prayers tonight are pleas for revolution, a new day of daughters walking in the freedom of our redemption and birthright, and the wholeness bought for us on the old rugged cross.
Tonight my prayers are for a glimpse of the truth of who this Jesus is, why He died for you, and how much you are adored. Perhaps this message will not reach but a few, again come morning, I may mutter…”oh my.”
Still, late this hour my worship is the perfect pitch of homolego… I agree, admit, acknowledge… you are our God, we are your daughters, and it is well.
How I love this God… Jesus be all over every hurt, anxiety, stress, joy, and everyday occurrence, sister, daughter, friend. Amen
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
Galatians 5:16-18(NIV) 16 So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. 17 For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever[a] you want. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.
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