Sticks and River Beds

Oh Father!

I come to you this morning…You are good. You are good. And there is none like you. No not one.

You are good.

And we are not.

Father, show us how to be like your Son. To have his mindset in all things. To think of others more highly than ourselves. To consider others before we do ourselves.

Father, I ask you would guide every thought today. Every direction of thinking. I pray that you would remove things from the road that would cause us to stumble or change the direction we are traveling with you. Father, even the smallest stick can change the course of a river’s current. Remove sticks. Remove stones. Let the water of us flow in the river bed of your design.

Father, speak to us. What we believe to be your vision—hone, change and transform it until it truly is.

Thank you today. Thank you. Thank you.

Amen and amen.

Monday Morning

Father,

Sometimes we fail miserably. Sometimes we fail just enough for everything to seem off kilter just a hair, but that hair can seem as wide as a chasm. Only you can bridge the chasm.

Father, help us. We are a frail people who wake up on Monday mornings already missing the weekend and dreading the week…

But the only way Monday morning can be on kilter again is to begin with you. To begin in your Presence—knowing your Presence helps and changes everything and all things. Your Presence cleanses. Your Presence heals. Your Presence fortifies. Your Presence steadies. Your Presence transforms.

We praise you. We praise you this morning for your goodness. Your faithfulness. Your holiness. Your kindness. Thank you for your covenant love extended to us. Over and over and over.

Father, draw us into your Presence on this Monday morning. Help us to lay aside the blunders and the failures of the weekend. Help us to put into your hands the hours of the coming week.

Father, we need you.

In the name of Jesus.

Amen

The Chisel

Father, Our Master Craftsman, Our Master Sculptor—

Oh, how we praise you this morning. You are not confined to one title, one definition or one description. You are beyond them all. You are worthy! So worthy to be worshiped. To be followed. To be surrendered to…

This morning, Father, I thank you for friends who pray for us. Who bring us to the throne room and ask for hard, but beautiful things. Oh, I thank you for friends who ask for you to use your tools gently to shape us. To sculpt us. Thank you for friends who know that the moment of uncomfortableness or pain is worth it all to be who you created us to be. I thank you for interceders. Thank you for those who lead, guide and carry us to the throne room of your grace this morning.

Thank you for this friend’s prayer for me this morning:

Lord chisel away at us and bring out the women You know are there hidden in the stoniness of our humanness. Lord thank you that You keep removing even when we bring it back, even when we fall over the same stone again and again. Lord some faults in the marble of our heats run deep but we still desire for them to be removed.

http://itsmelaurab.wordpress.com/2013/06/14/bring-out-the-chisel/

Oh, my God! I agree. I agree with her prayer. We ask this morning for you to bring forth the woman you see etched in the depths of the marble. Only you can sculpt in stone and it always be right. You never remove more than needed. You work around the flaws—the faulted seams that run through us—and anyone else would deem the stone useless. But not you. You are not deterred by cracks or faults. They become the very things that add to the ultimate beauty you bring out in us. These weaknesses become showcases for your beauty.

Thank you, Father. Please help us to not be afraid of your chisel. Help us to not shy away from the cuts it will make. The cuts your chisel makes are washed continuously by the water of your grace and mercy.

Help us to trust the skill of you hand, the compassion of your heart, the sharpness of  your edge and the wisdom of your knowledge.

In Jesus’ name. Amen

 

Let It Rain

Oh Father,

It is raining here—a steady pouring of water. It beat on the roof this morning—a steady rhythm. And this self of mine became attuned to it.

Father, we need rain. It is inconvenient. It is annoying. It is uncomfortable. But we need rain. Rain to replenish what has been depleted by heat and pressure. Rain to rehydrate what is dry and barren. Rain to soften the hard and crusty places in us—the cracks and ruts and ravines.

Father, help us to allow your rain to saturate us. Let us sit like the earth and absorb. Let our soil be moistened to deep places—so that new vegetation might grow. New foliage might emerge and fruit would begin.

Let the fruit begin, Father. Fruit takes time to form and mature and ripen. We ask that you would grow fruit in us…that the result of this rain would be luscious, rich and full fruit. Father, we want the boughs of us to be laden heavy with this fruit of the Spirit. Fruit only you can grow. Only you can grow these in us.

Father, let it rain. Let it rain.

In the name of Jesus.

Amen

 

Tabernacles and Tents

Father,

Oh, that I would meet with you. That you would come to my tent and fellowship with me. This tent is frail and fragile...whether it can hold you I am not convinced.

But you are.

Father, I ask this morning you come and abide in our tents. That we would eat with you and drink with you...that our conversations would be full with light. Father, I ask that you would enlarge our tents. Increase the capacity that we might hold more of you...that you would pull out our tent pegs and set them further out so that square footage of us would be multiplied.

We are tents, Father. You have told us this...and you Son came and tabernacled and tented among and with us.

We are temporary places. We are the tent housing for your Spirit. Father, shake us out. Unfold us. Increase our capacity to hold more.

Father, thank you that you meet us. That by our invitation you will flip back the tent door and enter in and stay with us. Father, clean these tents out. Rid them of the excessive baggage that takes up too much room. We want room made for you.

Father, I praise you. I worship you this morning. Enable me to do so in spirit and in truth.

Stretch this tent. Stretch it, Lord.

Amen

Manifested Glory

Oh my God, my God!

How worthy of praise you are this morning. How worthy of being lifted up and exalted above all else in our lives. Show us how to lift you up so others can see. Enable us to lift you high so everyone sees only you first—that we might decrease and you would increase in visibility.

Father, thank you for manifesting your glory before us. Your glory, your weight and your value, is made apparent if we are willing to see.

Oh, Father! That we, like Isaiah, might see your glory—the train of your Presence as it wends and winds through our lives—shows us the treasures in the folds of this train.

Father, teach us to see your Presence in the green of a blade of grass,

In the swift flying of a bird,

In the ruffle of leaves lifted by the breeze,

From the belly laugh of a child,

In the bend of a bloomed flower,

In the rapid fire movement of a bee’s wings.

Teach us to see your Presence in the mundane things. Teach us to find you. Regardless.

Father, make us aware of your holiness. Allow us to feel the punch of how different you are—an epiphany in the revelation of you.

Father, change our perspective. Change the viewpoint of our observation. Change the angle of our seeing.

In the name of Jesus.

Amen

Hearing Silence

Father,

It’s Monday and I’m hearing silence. I feel like your voice has been on mute for a while now. I can’t hear you and it unnerves me.

I know you have not moved. I know you have not shifted.

So, perhaps that means I have. Have I leaned in the wrong way? Away from the sound of your voice? Have I meandered to the edge of the path and your voice is muted by the foliage and brush between us? Father, I don’t like silence, and yet silence moves me to seek you. To call your name. To look for you. To seek you.

Father, I can’t see you today. I can’t hear you today. But as the sun still shines behind the cloud cover I know you are there.

Please today remove whatever is inhibiting me from hearing. Dig out my ears that I might hear you. Or enable me to interpret the silence, to seek you even more. To be desperate for you. To thirst for you. To hunger for you even more.

Father, I know the silence will not last forever. And I know my parched tongue will taste fresh water. I know the twisting of my hunger will be assuaged, but until then I pray you would help me to be faithful in the silence. Help me to trust what I cannot see—you.

My God, my God! Forgive me. Forgive me. Let your forgiveness roll over me like a river in flood season—overflowing its banks. Whatever hindrances are present I pray for their removal. For walls to be torn down. For barriers to be breached.

Father, please help me to find that sweet spot with you again…that place where your mercy dwells.

Oh, you and your mercy. How beautiful. How good.

Oh, you and your grace. How incredible. How deep.

Oh, you and your forgiveness. How encompassing. How complete.

Oh, you and your holiness. How powerful. How prevailing.

Oh, you and your love. How deep. How wide. How high. How long.

I praise you for it all. Glory to you, Father God! Glory to you. You are good. You are good. And worthy of praise. Worthy of being lifted up. Worthy of adoration. And I thank you. I thank you. I thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Amen