days twentyone & twentytwo: praying BIG with a heavy heart.

I decided to take a blog Sabbath yesterday and let it be a "just for you" day.  I'll never forget when I was on assignment at SharpTop Cove the summer of 2007 and the Lord taught me the principle of "just for you."  Being on Young Life staff, you lead lots of meetings and give lots of talks about Jesus and meet with lots of people to chat about Jesus.  Which is an amazing privilege.  But it can also quickly turn into taking everything in your life--especially what you're learning about the Lord personally--and turning it into something to use for ministry.

And so that summer I was exhausted and I remember as clear as day the light bulb going off in my head.  And then the Lord softly saying, "There are some things I give you that are JUST FOR YOU. You don't need to share them to encourage others.  Sit in it and let Me encourage you through it."

So yesterday, I let my rambles and thoughts and realizations be between me and the Lord and it was sweet.  I also got to spend time with these people I love so so much and I am so grateful.

And I'm so thankful I took that rest because today my heart is HEAVY.  Like a load of bricks.  Today as I prayed for a bunch of people who I love who are trudging through crappy, hard days of life I felt like I was just craaaaawling at a turtle's pace to the feet of Jesus and wanting to just lay down and give up.  Heavy.

Why does life hurt so bad?  That was the question I asked Jesus the night I finally got real with Him.  I was a senior in college and up until that point I had gone to church and prayed a lot and memorized Bible verses and really did believe in God and was generally a good girl but one night things just came to a head for me.  It felt like that night everything that had hurt throughout life just hurt BAD that night and that question came spilling out of my mouth.  Out loud and with some sass that isn't typical for my laid back personality: WHY DOES LIFE HURT SO BAD?

And you know what?  I think that's one of the best prayers I ever prayed.  Because He answered and my heart burst open to receive Him in a way I never could have before unless I had gotten honest and real with Him.

For some reason that night I found myself reading the book of Job.  All 42 chapters.  Job's life sucked.  That's really the most eloquent way to put it.  And so for 37 chapters, Job and his friends lament and essentially ask that question: "Why does life hurt so bad?"  But then in chapter 38 it says: "Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm..." 

Thank you, Lord, that you HEAR and you ANSWER.  You heard Job.  You hear me.  You hear the cries of all of us aching for peace and healing and joy in this anxiety-ridden, sick, frustrating, exhausting, mean world that we live in. 

I know this is a long post so if you've made it this far, congrats.  And if you have it in you to read some more, read Job 38-41 of God's response to Job.  And if you don't have it in you to read, watch it here in the Nooma video Whirlwind.  (Disclaimer: I love this video.  I do not love Rob Bell's theology.  At all.)

Hannah and Michael VanPatter's little boy, Watts, was diagnosed with infant leukemia when he was 10 months old.  They started a blog that is stunningly beautifully written--especially for a family going through a heart wrenching season of life.  I always start reading it to know how to pray but finish reading encouraged deeply.

What Hannah wrote today was perfect for my heavy heart:

I long to not be here. I long for all to be well in Watts' body, for cancer to not exist, for our days to be filled with park trips and play dates, and to not have to gather hair from my son's bed. As I shuffle past so many aching families in the halls of this floor, I long to make it all go away. Some stories I know, most I don't, but the weariness and grief I can see all around me. It is all wrong, really. All terribly, terribly wrong. 

This aching broken world, what hope is there in it? Death is inevitable, it haunts the healthiest of us, and ultimately strips us of all earthly loves. We walk through our days not knowing what tomorrow will bring, not knowing the number of our days. How does one live in a place of such fragility? How does one not break under fear of the unknown, the pain that inevitably lies up ahead?

We were made for something more. A broken Eden has us all breathlessly waiting and crying out for His return, for our true home, where all shall be made right. Cancer and death will have no place. Aching hearts will be filled. He will be there.

In the meantime, as we all trudge through these weary days, each of us facing our own challenges of sorts, of this I know: God is for me (Psalm 56). He rides the storm, holds me up in the darkest hour, and gives meaning to the bleak days. Oh Lord, you have been good to me. Come quickly.

Yes Jesus, please, come quickly.  Your presence IS peace and wholeness and healing and joy.  You are what we long for.  Come, Lord Jesus, COME.