Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Dear God,

Despair is ugly, dark, and deadly.  Recently I spent time with someone in utter despair.  All I could do was pray.

Somehow, O Lord, we lose hope when our lives are not what we want them to be.  When we are estranged, we feel lost, lonely, and alone.  We perceive our situation as hopeless.  When others do not come around to our way of thinking (as we often think they should) or they stay apart from us never budging, we assume life will always be that way.  We leave no room for possibility; thus, we become despairing.

So often losing hope is more about our own self and less about others.  When we make ourselves unchangeable, when we blame others for our predicament, when we point to others as the source of our distress, when we find every reason under the sun to be unhappy, we make no space for faith to work.  In fact our actions say we believe you do not exist.  You have no power.  You do not care.  You do not work in human lives.

On the other hand, when we believe and have faith, we are pliable, changeable, willing to be transformed. We know you do not do all the work for us.  You ask us to be willing partners in the metamorphosis that can take place not only in our own lives but also those around us.  You require us to listen, to consider new ideas, and to take steps in our own healing.  You call us to crawl out from under rocks where we hide in the darkness.  You challenge us to step into the light where we can be warmed by your mercy, where we can release beliefs that can maim and destroy us, and where we can see the truth and be enabled to shed our own failures, shortcomings, and sin.  Finally, you put us in a position where your love can penetrate the core of our being.  You make way for faith to work in our lives today, tomorrow, and all the rest of our days.

Thank you,
Heavenly Parent,
for working
in our lives.
Thank you
for your
tender care.
Forgive our resistance
and reluctance
to change.
Make way
for the transformation
to begin
then open
our lips
for praise.

Love, Andrea