Pray Without Ceasing

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Many people say that
Before the day even begins,
We should pray to God.
My brain does not function
Without coffee in the morning,
So I usually start praying
After that first cup at Adalheid's
When I'm on the train.
Now, once begun,
I find myself praying continually
Throughout the day.

I used to think of prayer
As a stiff exercise in monotony.
Recitation, and a few personal elements
Thrown in for good measure.
I didn't have a clue.
I didn't realize that prayer
Endues us with Power, Strength,
Knowledge, Wisdom, Patience,
Gentleness, Longsuffering,
And all the Christian virtues
We struggle to cultivate
(Stupidly) On our own.
I didn't think that my problems,
Issues, concerns, struggles, and hurts
Were important enough
For the Lord to take an active interest in them.
I didn't know that the Hand of God
Could reach down
At the same moment that I was reaching up
And touch me.

Now...
Nothing is too big
Or too small
To bring to Him.
Family -
My sister's journey towards a normal life.
My future brother-in-law's job drama.
My aunt's health issues.
My cousin's arduous studies.
Work -
Conflicts on the team.
Problems with the computer system.
Personal tribulations of the staff.
Difficulties with clients.
Home -
Pets.
Bills.
Adalheid and the king.
Adalheid's wandering momma.
Self -
My journey closer to the Heart of God.
Battling demons, old and new.
Struggling to be okay with my singleness
In a world insistent on coupling.
(Well, I occasionally think it might be nice, too...)

That I'm praying more frequently
Begets the desire
To want to pray more frequently.
I know response is imminent.
I know God loves me enough
To send messages back to me.
The burning bush is not igniting before me,
But I hear His Voice clearly
Through Scripture and song,
The works of Bullinger, Bonhoffer, and Murray,
Odd "coincidences" and the voices of others.

Jesus speaks of entering a room,
Shutting the door,
And praying to the Father in secret. *
In my head,
We are constructing that room,
That space apart
Where I may meet with Him,
Confess to Him,
Petition Him,
Listen to Him,
Learn from Him,
Receive comfort from Him,
And ultimately,
Glorify Him.
There's a table, two comfy chairs,
Two cups, and a thermos
Of some of the best coffee ever.
I can enter that room
At any time,
And He is there,
The Eternal I AM,
The Faithful One.
The door is always open.
The welcome mat is always laid out,
And the coffee is always on...

* But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6:6)

The Pressure Is Off

In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!" And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke. And I said: "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for." (Isaiah 6:1-7)

My vividly overactive imagination

Conjures another evening-train-ride-home daydream

That leaves me shaking in its intensity.

In my mind's eye,

I am standing before the Almighty's Throne.

The train of his robe

Is stretching somewhere past

The Andromeda galaxy,

And His foot is resting

Gingerly on the earth.

I am being

Blown backwards off my feet

By the Lord's Holiness -

His Very Presence -

Rays of Shechinah Glory

That are flaying the flesh from my bones.

My unholiness exposed

To that brilliant Light -

My rebellion, for which the punishment is death -

I scream a single note of pain-fueled terror.

One of the few Hebrew words I know -

"Rachem!" - is torn from my lips.

The sound of my voice is drowned out

By the sea-blast roar of the Seraphim

Who proclaim the Lord's holiness

Across the expanse of the Heavens.

This furnace heat will melt me.

I will surely live the eternal death,

Flung into the far reaches of the Pit,

And I am deserving of this fate.

I cannot stand unaided before

My Maker.

The pressure of His Righteous Judgment

Is crushing the life out of me.

All is lost.

I am lost.

There is a sudden stop

To the crushing of my body.

I open my eyes, and see

I am lying in the umbra

Of The Cross

Planted directly between

The Lord of Hosts and myself.

The Shadow of The Cross

Protects me

From God's thermonuclear Brilliance.

I do not move.

I close my eyes,

And wait for whatever will happen next.

And then I hear a Voice call my name:

"Blanca."

It is a soft, sure voice.

He says my name with the

Intimacy of many years.

I open my eyes and see

The Anointed One.

He walks toward me,

Radiant,

The weight of the age of the Universe

Shining in His eyes.

He extends a hand to me,

Saying,

"It's okay. Stand up."

I don't move.

"I am not worthy," I confess.

He nods.

"On your own, yes," he agrees.

"But you do not approach

The Lord alone.

I stand between

You and He.

My Sacrifice covers you,

Paying the sin-debt

Your mortal life incurs."

He is standing over me now,

His hand still extended to me.

"Come," He beckons.

I reach up and take hold of a grip

That communicates

I am more loved

Than anything I can even begin to conceive of.

I slowly get to my feet

And stare into

The Face of That Eternal Love.

He smiles; I smile.

The tears that well in my eyes

Say more completely than any words ever could

How joyful and thankful and praiseful I am

For the Lord's plan of deliverance...

The Wanderer

The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:5b-7)

"Not all those who wander are lost." J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Friday afternoon, 3:17 PM.
I was at my desk working
When the phone rang. 
It was Adalheid,
And when she said my name,
I knew something was terribly wrong. 
"Mommy is missing," she told me, 
Referring to her momma
Who has Alzheimer's. 
"And I'm calling because
I need you to pray to God
To bring her home." 
(Like I possess the Batphone, 
The private line to the Eternal.)
I hung up, and moments later,
Ran out of work
To help search. 
I was praying while waiting for the train.
As I stood on that platform,
Confessing my sins,
Asking for and receiving forgiveness,
Laying bare my heart, my intentions,
My prayers, my pleas,
Bringing before God the fact that
He is the god of the helpless,
I thought, I know You're always with me. 
Then I thought, You're always with everyone. 
Then I thought, That means You're with Adalheid's momma
RIGHT NOW.
There is a difference
Between knowing a truth in your head
And experiencing it in your soul. 
As this revelation struck me,
I felt His Hands 
Cutting through my panic,
Dispelling my fears and morbid fantasies. 
I believed that He would bring her home,
And a little over three hours 
From the time that she went missing,
He did. 

Lord,
Thank You
For leading her to the doorstep
Of the man who kindly took care of her
Before calling 911.
Thank You 
For keeping her safe
During her confused wandering. 
Father, 
Continue to show Mercy
To her, Adalheid, the king,
The rest of the family,
And me,
As we take care of her,
As she wanders ever further from us. 
Let her journey 
Eventually lead her home to You,
So that we may someday behold her
Joyful, praiseful, restored, and whole,
Her wanderings here as distant and forgotten
As the memories and life that are slowly
Evaporating from her now. 
We are all wanderers,
All burdened and weary
From our journeys back to You. 
Receive us, someday, Lord. 
Welcome us Home. 

Ten Years Ago Today

Father,
Today marks the tenth anniversary of 9/11.
I was supposed to be
At World Trade Center Building 5
The morning the towers fell.
I overslept, and punked out
On the job I was meant to apply for.
I was coming back from the store
With a bag of cat litter in my hand
When I heard people shouting in their homes
And everywhere, everywhere
I suddenly heard TV or radio broadcasts.
"Two planes have crashed into
The Twin Towers. "
I turned northwest on Gerritsen Avenue,
And beheld a plume of smoke
Rising out of the curve of the earth.

I remember trying to reach friends
Who worked or studied in Manhattan
And Washington, D.C.
I remember news trickling in
About neighborhood first responders
Who wouldn't be coming home.
I remember standing in my backyard
While occasional pieces of burnt paper
Floated down from the sky.

Life has changed since then.
Nothing could be the same after that.

Father,
This is not a prayer for vengeance.
This is a cry of longing,
Longing for creation's redemption.
How long will You leave us
In a broken universe?
How long before this world,
Laid waste,
Beholds the Glory of Your Son?
How long before The Branch of David
Fills his seat on the Throne,
As You promised David that He someday would?
Your children watch the earth's decay,
Understanding that this is all
Part of Your Plan,
But we wish that
You would hurry up
And redeem creation already.
We know that we are not at home,
And can never be truly home
Until Your Glory is completely revealed.
We ache for You.
We pray for You to come,
And fill the void,
The secret, unspoken longing
Of all our hearts.

Father,
It's going to be a rough one
Down here today.
We pray that You would
Touch the lives of everyone -
Those who lost loved ones,
Those who were there and survived,
Those who helped others, and bear the scars,
Those who mourn at the devastating loss of life -
Touch their lives, Lord,
With Your Grace, and Hope, and Love.
Bring Peace to the
Fathers and mothers,
Brothers and sisters,
Husbands, wives, and children,
All family and friends
Of the dearly departed.
We pray that You would watch over and protect
This city
These states
This nation
All nations
As we wrestle
Personally and globally
With the adversary.
Help us, Lord.
Heal us, Lord.
Save us, Lord,
From each other,
And ourselves.

Prayer for the Start of the School Year

Have I ever ridden

On a train this packed,

I wonder, annoyed,

As my train creeps to work.

Straphangers jostle for space,

Contending with kids

Returning to school.

There were four boys

Standing next to me,

Discussing grades, schedules,

Teachers, classes, and friends.

A wave of nostalgia washed over me,

A longing for the time to

Read and write and learn and think,

Before the era of jobs and bills and responsibility

That now claims me.

But Solomon is correct when he says

That there is a season for everything,

And for me, this season has

Drawn to its end.

Then, I wonder about these four boys,

What their lives are like

Beneath the layer of "student."

I remember grammar school angst

About being the class pariah,

Emotions so deep and raw

They consumed vital parts of me

For years.

I remember the calming effect

High school exerted on me

As I found others

Of similar dispositions,

Friends who stood by me

Through the maelstrom 

Of family calamities and
adolescent turmoil.
My college years
Were marred by apostasy
That eventually gave way to
Finding my way home;
Sometimes when you wander off,
You eventually return with a
Deeper appreciation for what you left.
All these thoughts,
And more,
Raced through my head
As I listened to those boys' conversations,
And reflected on my youth.

Lord,
Watch over the kids as they
Contend with
The pressure to belong and be accepted
The pressure to get good grades
The peer pressure, good and bad, from other kids
The pressure of home and family life.
Protect them as they encounter
A thriving drug culture
A thriving sex culture
Gangs
Bullies
Violence
Teasing
Persecution
Being in the wrong place at the wrong time
Family poverty and hardship
Heartbreak
Personal tragedies
And the million and one other landmines
They must dodge every day.

Lord,
Preserve them,
So that they
May someday know
Who You Are...

Everyday Divine Intervention

And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive. (Matthew 21:22, KJV)

I used to pray
For only large-scale solutions
To large-scale problems.
"Lord, please end world hunger."
"Lord, please bring about world peace."
My prayer life was
Infrequent and unfocused,
Ever projecting outwards
Because I hadn't yet learned
How to to ask
For God's help and favor
For myself.
I did not understand
The depths of intervention I would

Personally, directly need.
I didn't yet consider Him
My Heavenly Father...
Or consider all that a good father would do
To love and protect his child -
Even if that child had grievously erred. *
I could not grasp the idea that
The Creator of the universe
Took a tangible, personal interest
In me.

Several months ago
I was locked in a battle
With my classified computer system.
This happens often.
After a little persistent research
And playing with the system in
A test environment,
I usually win.
This time I was confronted
With something simple I couldn't research,
Because I didn't even know
What this feature was called.
I kept re-reading the manual
Hoping for a spark
To illumine my mind.
Nothing happened.
At a loss,
I desperately prayed.
"Lord, I know you're really busy,
And I don't like praying for
Things for myself,
But I'm under deadline,
And I have to figure this out
And I don't know what it's called
To find it
To fix it.
You know all things,
Even the workings of my classified computer system.
(This thought stunned me, even as I prayed it -
Why hadn't I ever realized that before?)
Can you please help me
Find the switch, or rule, or
Whatever will make this thing work?
PLEASE?"

I left work very late that night,
Utterly spent,
And too grumpy to trust
In any forthcoming, divinely-initiated answers.
I fell asleep,
Tasting defeat,
Wondering what the next day would bring.

During my morning rigamarole,
Illumination came.
In my mind's eye,
I saw the page from the manual
That I needed.
I suddenly knew what
I was looking for.
The switch, or rule,
Or whatever would make my project work
Had been revealed to me.

My friends thought I was nuts
When I told them what happened.
I did not care;
In the pit of my soul,
I knew that
He had planted that knowledge in me.

My post-mini-miracle prayer of thanksgiving to God
Went something like this:

"Lord, THANK YOU for revealing that information to me."

"I am the Maker of the Universe.
I do understand what's happening in it
Better than anyone else."

Pause.

"Lord, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that perhaps if you

Turned to Me more often,
More of your needs would be fulfilled."

Pause.

"But Lord, I don't want to bother you."

Pause.

"This is a pride thing, isn't it?" He asked.

The question hung in the air between us.

Before I could answer, He continued:

"It's common.
People think they can solve everything on their own,
Or that they're bothering Me
If they ask for My Help for themselves.
If people are so capable of doing everything for themselves -
Of saving themselves, per se -
Why did I send My Son
To die for them?"

I stood convicted.
I offered no answer.
I fell silent,
And pondered
My God-ward reticence.

I've gotten better
At both initiating the dialogue,
And listening for the answer
From my Maker.
And I've gotten alot better
At turning to Him
For my everyday troubles and crises.

"Lord, I locked myself out of the house...
With the dogs.
Can you make it so that
My landlord is sitting downstairs,
With the front door open,
As he sometimes does?"
When I got back to the house,
My landlord was sitting outside,
And the front door was unlocked.

"Lord, I forgot the bags to pick up after the dogs.
Could you give me one at least?"
In a few minutes, I found
An empty, black plastic bag,
Which wouldn't be strange to find
On a Bensonhurst sidewalk,
Except that this was after Hurricane Irene,
And the streets had been blown free of trash debris.

"Lord, I forgot my breakfast on the piano,
And we both know I don't have any money on me.

Um... Is there any way you can
Give me breakfast?"
That morning,
A coworker who has never offered
To share her breakfast with me
Suddenly asked me
If I would split half of an
Egg white and tomato sandwich.
I gratefully accepted,
While my spirit sang praises
To My Father who literally fed me.

"Lord, I don't have the utility bill money
Because I paid a huge vet bill.
I don't know what to do here.
Please help me with this."
Over coffee, Adalheid suddenly asked me
"You just paid that huge vet bill.
Do you have money for your other bills?"
I didn't lie. I told her "no."
By the end of the conversation,
She had given me several hundred dollars,
And I humbly took it,
Awed by the subtle powers
Of My God.

I used to pray
For only large-scale solutions
To large-scale problems.
"Lord, please end world hunger."
"Lord, please bring about world peace."
There's nothing wrong with praying
For these noble causes,
But we're missing the point entirely
If that's all we're praying for.
God is a god of our every day,
Every moment existence,
The eternal I AM
Who desires for us to
Thoughtfully, prayerfully,
Personally, frequently
Seek Him...

Eli,
Abba...
Be ever before me.
Grow my prayer life,
To the praise and glory
Of Your Holy Name!

* For the most beloved example of this in the New Testament, read Luke 15:11-32

Lost Souls

"But many who are first will be last, and the last first." Matthew 19:30

"Give me your tired, your poor,  your huddled masses yearning to breathe free."
From the poem "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus

Sometimes,
I feel like this quote,
In addition to being inscribed
On a plaque at the base of
The Statue of Liberty,
Is inscribed
On my forehead
In neon letters
That can be seen
By people that others would call
"Lost Souls."
I collect lost souls
The way some people collect
Coins or postage stamps.

I have been friends with people
From all walks of life.
People who in some way
Don't quite "belong"
Naturally gravitate to me.
The underdog
The lonely
The outcast
The mourning
The depressed
The shy
The misunderstood
The addict
The criminal
I am the keeper of their secrets,
Their private and public advocate,
Mother confessor, comforter and mediator
For a motley crew of misfits.
I can only account for this proclivity
By remembering that at some time
I have been the underdog.
I have suffered loneliness.
I have been an outcast.
I have deeply mourned.
I suffered from depression.
And am still sometimes shy.
I have been completely misunderstood,
And addicted,
And yes, I've been a criminal, too.

Some of these lost souls
Are more found
Than the headliners
That so many admire and imitate.
Some of these lost souls
Are lost no longer,
Because they have made their home
In the arms of the Holy One.
Their rest is at the
Foot of the Cross,
And He has given them
Life anew.
They are released from their sins.
Their personal salvation
Is unburdened from their shoulders.
They are in
Eternity's Grasp,
And not all the money
Or privilege
Or status
Or fame
Or acclaim
Could have done what He did for them...
For us,
Because my heart's allegiance lies with the scapegoats,
No matter what circles I move through.

The whole scenario
Begs the question:
Who's really lost here?