Asthmatic prayer life
It's been a while. I feel as if I should apologize. It's not that God hasn't been working, or that I haven't been in awe of what He is doing- I merely haven't had time to write.
Lately my prayer life has been terrible. That happens, it comes and goes. Sometimes prayer is as natural as breathing, as blinking your eyes, or brushing the hair out of your eyes when it is windy. Sometimes prayer comes easily and constantly, and I find myself every moment reveling in the presence of my Lord. These are my favorite times.
Then, there are times like the present. These times I am not fond of. I wish they would go away and not come back. I wish I wasn't broken. I wish my mind worked properly and my heart was whole, because if my mind and heart were working I would never even be able to stop talking to God. If something wasn't broken somewhere in humanity, I think we would be a noisy bunch of people because we would always be babbling senselessly in awe of God's sovereignty, and He would always be laughing at us and trying to make us shut up so He could speak and teach us something. And when we heard His voice we would fall silent and listen. Golly, listen to me. Talk about babbling. Someday it will be like that, someday we won't be broken any more-- beautiful day.
I have come to the following conclusion. I want to talk to God. I'm desperate to pray. But something is disconnected so I can't come up with the words. I become frustrated because I don't know what to say to God. So I give up my attempt. With each failed attempt, the next attempt becomes a little shabbier, a little more pathetic.
Yesterday I stumbled across a wonderful quote by T.S. Eliot. I was becoming contented with a stagnant relationship with God, so He threw something into my path to trip me and jolt me back to my senses. "It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words." Alright, then. I'll keep struggling till my lungs open, or till my face turns blue from lack of air.
Lately my prayer life has been terrible. That happens, it comes and goes. Sometimes prayer is as natural as breathing, as blinking your eyes, or brushing the hair out of your eyes when it is windy. Sometimes prayer comes easily and constantly, and I find myself every moment reveling in the presence of my Lord. These are my favorite times.
Then, there are times like the present. These times I am not fond of. I wish they would go away and not come back. I wish I wasn't broken. I wish my mind worked properly and my heart was whole, because if my mind and heart were working I would never even be able to stop talking to God. If something wasn't broken somewhere in humanity, I think we would be a noisy bunch of people because we would always be babbling senselessly in awe of God's sovereignty, and He would always be laughing at us and trying to make us shut up so He could speak and teach us something. And when we heard His voice we would fall silent and listen. Golly, listen to me. Talk about babbling. Someday it will be like that, someday we won't be broken any more-- beautiful day.
I have come to the following conclusion. I want to talk to God. I'm desperate to pray. But something is disconnected so I can't come up with the words. I become frustrated because I don't know what to say to God. So I give up my attempt. With each failed attempt, the next attempt becomes a little shabbier, a little more pathetic.
Yesterday I stumbled across a wonderful quote by T.S. Eliot. I was becoming contented with a stagnant relationship with God, so He threw something into my path to trip me and jolt me back to my senses. "It's strange that words are so inadequate. Yet, like the asthmatic struggling for breath, so the lover must struggle for words." Alright, then. I'll keep struggling till my lungs open, or till my face turns blue from lack of air.
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