Keep Praying

I've been praying... a lot. It's my new thing. My I'm-learning-how-prayer-really-works thing. My trusting-God-to-teach-me-something-new thing.

I pray before my children and husband wake up. I pray after they've all gone to sleep. I sit and talk to God and study scripture. There are moments when I feel so small and inconsequential and then other, bolder moments when I feel my prayers shouting into the very throne room of God.

Last week around midnight, I was feeling small. Little me. In my little closet. Wondering if my prayers mattered.

And there it was, that small obedience-urge. Telling me to listen to the still small voice and do exactly what it said. So I listened. I obeyed.

My obedience took me to a devotional book, a random page with the Holy Spirit prompting me to look at the key verse. And there it was shouting back to me from that Holy throne room in heaven, two small words:

Keep praying.
1 Thessalonians 5:17

With my heart swelling, I began to praise God and pray with all my might. In the darkness of my home, my little closet was the only room burning bright. 

Another obedience-urge told me to take myself, my prayer, and His Spirit and walk my house. 

So I began to walk. Whispering from room to room. In shouted whispers His Name, His protection. Pleading the blood of Jesus over each space and over each inhabitant of our little house on Shadowbrook. As I prayed my arms moved, stretched to heaven in praise, touching walls, imbibing them with God's Holy presence, claiming my home and my family for the Lord.

I reached the front door and touched the top, running my hand over the 100 year-old oak. We have been passed over. We are covered in the Blood.

I circle back to my hallway. I make my way around a door. 

A figure approaches me in the darkness....the figure gasps, startled with fright.

My poor husband. In his jammies. Sleepy-eyed. Hair askew. Jennifer...what are you doing?

Obviously, I'm prayer walking through our house and claiming the Blood of Jesus, husband.

And with his knowledge of the Jesus-obsessed wife he married 12 years ago, he grunts, and returns to bed.

Because. Obviously that's what I'm doing. Obviously.

Here's the thing I want you to know today, friend. Your prayers matter. They are heard. 

But you have concerns, you say? Issues with prayer? They may sound like some of the following:

How do I know my prayers are heard?

When I pray, I feel like my prayers hit a glass ceiling.

I've been praying the same prayer for years and nothing has changed.

I'm scared that His answer will look differently than I want.

I just don't feel like praying today. 

I've messed up. I've sinned. My prayers are no good.

He doesn't speak back to me. 

I can't feel His presence.

Am I saying the right words?

Am I praying for the right things?

Well, my answer to you is simple. In fact, just two words:

Keep praying.

Don't you know who you are, beloved? You are a child of God, made by Him, for Him, in His very image. Never say your prayers are not enough. 

Because He is enough. 

My friend, draw near. Draw near in obedience, draw near begging to know Jesus in a new and radical way. In some moments of prayer you will feel alone and small, but in others...oh, in others, your prayers will shake the very foundations of the earth and shape the very future of it.

Your prayers are powerful. They matter. They can change things. 

But your prayers can't be any of those things if you don't pray them.

Your prayers won't matter unless you pray them.

Simple, huh?

So the next time you think prayer time should be skipped because what does it matter, anyway? Here's the reminder. Two little words, one big message, straight from the throne room of God:

Keep Praying.

What's in a Name? ( An Open Letter to My Sons )

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.

Proverbs 22:1

Dear Wyatt Edward and Morgan Bascombe,

Naming the two of you, being the writer of your names, is my favorite piece of work I've ever committed to paper. That paper being your birth certificates. Your Daddy and I prayed over your names and knew we wanted more for you than to have the cool, trendy "Baby Name of the Year" with the perfect amount of syllables. We wanted your names to reflect your family, your God, and your future.

It's been snowing these past two days. I've had time to sit in front of a fire place with a cozy blanket, wearing my favorite purple knit beret and write to you about your names. Because names are important. They don't make us into who we are automatically, but they give us something in which to aspire. My precious sons, these are my aspirations for you.

Wyatt Edward:

You are unlike any person I know. Your incredible wisdom sometimes causes you great sensitivity and even anger. I'm sure it's confusing to have such insight about such a world at such a young age. (This I write as you are telling fart jokes to your little brother.)

Wyatt means "brave in battle" or "warrior." We chose this name for you because your dad's name means "warrior," too. And this is my hope for you. That you will fight and be brave, carrying the banner of the LORD wherever you go, knowing he is a Rock and a Fortress and a very present Help in times of trouble. Hope and faith in a living God will make you brave. Use these gifts of courage to change the world. You are so capable of it.

Edward comes from your dad's grandfather, Ralph Edward Smith. His middle name was actually Edmund at birth, but he hated it so much he told everyone it was Edward. And I'm glad he did. Edward: "wealthy guardian." Because you are. No wealth in terms of earthly riches...sorry. Your parents are a pastor and a teacher. But in terms of the great love and knowledge of Jesus, you are the Bill Gates of heavenly riches. Billions on this planet yearn for the knowledge you've gained already - that the whole point of this life is to glorify a good and saving God. Guard this wealth with your whole heart. Let it be your treasure. Guard this wealth against impurity, cowardice, and superiority. A guardian knows what his treasure is worth. "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:21) And how I pray for your heart to be His.

Morgan Bascombe:

You are joy and fun. You are happiness. You are the twinkle in an eye. You are a giggle and a shout all in one. You are a Momma's Boy in the best sense of the term.

Morgan Earp was a younger brother whom Wyatt Earp loved dearly. We wanted you, too, to be a dearly loved brother of a Wyatt. (And you are.) Morgan comes from the Welsh "Morcant," Mor meaning "sea" and cant meaning "circle." A sea-circle. Both endless. When you think of your name, think of how beloved you are to your Mother and Father, how our love for you is as "boundless as the sea." But even more so, remember God, the Creator of the sea who loves you. He considers you a far loftier and beloved creation than any of the waters on earth.

Bascombe is the middle name of my grandfather, Posey Bascombe Glenn. It was also the middle name of his father. Your great Uncle David's middle name is Bascombe, as well. No one else in the family carried it, so we can only assume it came from a family friend or a notable figure of the day. Bascombe is a very old surname. It came with the Normans to England when they conquered it in 1066. Their coat of arms states, "Nothing is too difficult for the Faithful and Brave." And your faith in God's goodness, mercy, salvation, and the hope He brings to all people will provide all the bravery you'll ever need. Fear is not an option to those whose faith is placed in the Lord. "But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine." (Isaiah 43:1) You are called of God and have been redeemed by Him. My prayer is that you feel His call all throughout your life and own your rights as a fellow heir of Jesus Christ.

Boys, we do not immediately become the meaning of our names. Some people never know the meanings of their names. But you do. They were carefully crafted while you were being carefully crafted in the womb. Your names call you to great things in the Lord, to forget yourselves and to fight for a Savior who gave His life for you. Time in this world is dwindling away and there are so many who do not know the riches and fullness of a life lived in Jesus. So you, my boys, go and live out your names. You faithful warriors, you guardians, you who are dearly loved.

xxoo
Mommy
January 2016

Airplane Prayers

If you know me at all you know of my affinity for birds. Not of the exotic variety - we're not talking penguins and toucans here, but regular, everyday yard birds. Cardinals, sparrows, fat bluebirds that tuck themselves inside the tiny little birdhouse on my front porch.

Birdsong, in a quiet forest or backyard is the sweetest symphony and purest form of praise from created beings to their Creator. When I am earnestly seeking God, sometimes, if I pay attention, a bird will find its way into my line of sight, reminding me of God's sweet presence.

It's kind of awesome. I'm not even kidding here. Once, while pouring my heart out in prayer last summer a bird came and perched on the chair outside of my window, separating us by a glass pane and inches.

If you read the blog last week (which you can find here) you know of my renewed passion for prayer. So, this week as I created my prayer closet, my prayer wall, and began fervent praying daily...I couldn't feel God. There wasn't a closeness. His Spirit was not overwhelming, but in obedience and hopeful expectation I kept praying.

Then while driving home from the grocery store one afternoon, looking out my windows for birds (Yes, I actually do this...), there were none in sight. Not one bird on a bright, beautiful, blue-skied afternoon.

Only an airplane outside my front windshield.

Stupid airplane. You're not a precious, lovely bird! Lord, where are my birds?!

It's only an airplane...

And then, out my side window, another airplane appears, flying lower.

Where are my beautiful, beloved songbirds, Lord?

No songbirds, child. But airplanes.

Airplanes.

I'm not sending you birds during this season of prayer, daughter. I'm sending you airplanes.

The difference? An airplane represents speed, power, and the highest of heights. Not songbird prayers, as lovely, sweet and pure as they may be. But airplane prayers. Power and strength.

I want to pray BIG prayers, prayers that seem ridiculous and foolish to man, but delight my Father in heaven.

Do you remember the story in Acts 12 of Peter being freed from prison after earnest prayer (12:5) from the church? In the dead of night an angel came into his cell, unlocked his chains and led him through the many doors of the prison. Peter thought this was so incredible it must have been a vision. When Peter realized his escape was all very real and he had been freed he went to Mary's house (the mother of Mark). He knocked at the gate and a servant girl named Rhoda answered. Verse 14 says that in her joy and excitement she forgot to let him in and ran to tell the others. And when she did tell the others they didn't believe her, saying, "You are out of your mind."

But they had forgotten. Those gathered at Mary's house had forgotten their earnest prayer for Peter. Their airplane prayer that might have sounded something like this:

"Lord, Peter is imprisoned by the most powerful government in the world. He sleeps between two armed guards. He is bound by two separate chains. Outside his cell stand additional guards. Father, four squads of soldiers guard him altogether. The prison is locked away from the city by an iron gate that is locked at all times.

God, free Peter."

Folks, that's an airplane prayer if I've ever heard one. And God is in the business of answering these BIG, bold, C-130-speed prayers.

But did they believe God could do it? Here was Rhoda shouting, "Peter is at the gate!" And the faithful friends of Peter and believers in the Risen Christ called her crazy.

But there he was, standing at the arrivals gate. Just like he was waiting for his ride at the gate at JFK, ready to pick up his stuff at baggage claim.

The plane landed. The prayer answered.

I've been praying some airplane prayers. I've been praying BIG things. Things that may seem impossible and foolish to the world and maybe even to fellow Christians. But I will pray and keep on.

Because last night as I stood in the silence of my backyard, walking and thanking God for the kind of stars that shine brightest on a cold night, and thinking of my BIG, foolish prayers, there it was - a low flying, brightly lit airplane, clear as day in the dark of night.

Flying right over my head.

And I smiled to my Father in heaven as He spoke to my heart:

Darling, I've heard your precious bird prayers, but now it's time for new heights."

"For the foolishness of God is wiser than men..."

1 Corinthians 1:25

It's Time to Start Asking

I'm learning. I love to learn. That's probably why I became a teacher. I'm curious and will spend hours on Wikipedia reading about everything from vikings to Tolstoy.

But what I'm learning about now is of far greater importance than simple history and literature.

It's prayer.

And before today I didn't understand.

But God in His tender grace and mercy deigned to teach me.

And it's changed my life.

See, I learned that prayer actually changes things.

Without getting too much into technicalities, I am a bit of a Calvinist. I can believe that God has a set plan, that He calls those who He will, and that His plans and callings are perfect. Who am I to try to change His perfect will?

But that's not exactly right. There's more to the flow of our lives than that. Because He's given us a beautiful gift -

Intercession.

James 4:2 says, "You do not have, because you do not ask."

While studying prayer I've sat under the teaching of scholars who are much smarter than me. And they all teach me the same thing - We pray because prayer works.

Genesis 18 recounts the first recorded prayer. Abraham intercedes for the city of Sodom. He knows of God's plan to destroy the city by fire and Abraham, humbly, asks God, "Father, if you can find anyone righteous in the city will you spare it?"

The city was so corrupt that the only righteous folk to be found inside were Abraham's nephew and family. And God sends His own angels into the city to drag Lot and his wife and daughters out.

His own angels.

Prayer changes things. Abraham asked and God gave.

I'll tell you something intensely personal. Since November, my joy, which is usually found in abundance has disappeared. I admitted this to my friend Hannah last week and she vowed that she would pray for me.

My joy has since returned, and not just in its usual amount, but I possibly have more joy in my heart than ever before.

Prayer changes things. Hannah asked and God gave.

My friend Hannah is righteous. Not because of her own doing, but because she claims the precious blood of Jesus. And James 5:16 tells us, "The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective."

Prayer changes things.

James tells us to pray so much, so fervently in his letter found in the New Testament because prayer works. Prayer can change the course of your life, of your city, of your family. Prayer can change the world. Your prayer can change the course of human history.

I realize this may seem far fetched to even the most devout of us. But we believe in a God of miracles, don't we? We believe in a God who can do immeasurably more than we can even ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20)?

What if He's just waiting for us to ask?

Why aren't we asking?

I'm committing myself this day to start asking. I will ask for the small, the big, and the seemingly impossible. I will ask the God of the Universe who claims me as His precious child to do great and unimaginable things. I will ask Him to perform miracles in my family and in my town and in my church. I will believe Him when He tells me, "You don't have...because you haven't asked!"

Do you believe enough to put your heart on your sleeve and ask God to show up? Because I am. I'm asking Him to show up in big ways.

Starting today I will pray. Are you brave enough to pray with me?

Big Deals and Small Stuff

So, I'm pretty good at trusting God in Big Deal situations.

Emergency c-section? No worries, God is taking care of us.

My house burning down to the ground? Y'all, I literally praised God as I walked through the rubble and ashes.

Emotional trauma? No biggie, God will bring beauty from the ashes.

Yes, my faith in the Big is mighty. I believe that in tragedy and pain and sorrow that God holds me up with His righteous right hand like it says in Isaiah 41:10. I believe in Psalm 91 where God tells me He will cover me with His feathers. During these times of darkness I hold fast to Him, I long for Him. I find my joy and strength and peace only in Him.

But, thankfully, life isn't all Big Deal situations. Most of life is made up of the Small Stuff, and this friends, is where I fail.

See, I remember the God who parted the Red Sea, but I forget the God who watches the sparrow fall. I believe for the Big, but I forget in the Small.

I've found that when I'm facing Big Deals, I'm so close to the Lord. But then, thankfully, things get better. But this also means I do not cling to Him as tightly.

I need to start trusting God with my day to day, Small Stuff. I need to remember that He cares about my morning drive, my deadlines, my fleeting thoughts, my simple choices. God cares about it all and He wants to be included in it all. 

The Bible tells us that we should pray in all situations and for all things (I Thessalonians 5:17, Ephesians 6:18), so doesn't this mean God cares about all situations and all things? He hears our prayers for help in small moments just as much as He hears our prayers for miracles. 

Psalm 139 speaks of God's intimate knowledge of us:

"...even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.

You know when I leave and when I get back;

    I’m never out of your sight.

You know everything I’m going to say

    before I start the first sentence.

I look behind me and you’re there,

    then up ahead and you’re there, too—

    your reassuring presence, coming and going.

This is too much, too wonderful—

    I can’t take it all in!"

I'm so thankful for a God who can handle the Big Deals. I'm so thankful that in hurricane-like situations I'm confident in a God who will keep me from drowning. But I also need to remember that He's the God of the Small Stuff, too. I shouldn't just be a bad-weather friend to God, only drawing close during turbulent times. I should draw close in all times. God loves me so much that He wants to be included in the smallest, most inconsequential times of my day. 

So, that's my resolution. In 2016 I will thank God for parting the seas and seeing me through the storms, but I will also thank Him in my smallest moments and include Him in my conversations, my coffee breaks, and my simple tasks.

Because Big Deal or Small Stuff, He's the God of it all.