tension

I’ve always struggled with prayer. It’s something I cling onto in good times, struggles, and in between. I’ve had beautiful seasons of intense prayer where I felt so close to God that His presence was thicker than Florida air in the middle of August. I’ve prayed big prayers and seen them answered, but still so many that were not. I’ve also prayed tiny prayers with zero expectations that He would “waste” His time on them and seen big things out of them. But still I struggle.

I think a struggle has always existed, but it has looked different over the years. When I was young and growing up in the church, trying to figure out what God had to do with my life, I prayed prayers out tradition and compulsion. I prayed because that’s what you were supposed to do. Pre-dinner and bedtime prayers. Reciting the same words every day in ritualistic fashion. I didn’t realize it, but during this time of my life I was already struggling with it. The prayers were empty and without emotion. The equivalent to saying, “I’m fine” when a cashier at the grocery store asks how are you. Even then, I knew there had to be more. More depth and life to communicating with God even though I wouldn’t have been able to explain it if I were asked.

Over time, I developed a prayer language and posture that evolved from stuffy and ritualistic into a relational conversation. There was so much freedom in experiencing a God that sees me, knows me, loves me, and wants to talk. Still though… struggle. Even in the beautiful season of blessing I feel He has given me lately, there is this lingering barricade that seems to inhibit part of the relationship He desires for me and I desire with Him. A barricade that looks like this:

I get caught up in a tension between the [perceived] hopelessness of His will and the hope of what His will can bring.

Let me explain. In my prayer life, I call out to Him for many things for myself, for my family, for my friends, for whoever and whatever. In the back of my mind though, there is a weight though that leaves a feeling of hopelessness. Hopeless that there is a certain amount of irrelevance to the prayer if I am truly pursuing His will. If I completely trust that He is in control, I have to release my control. If I pray something that is His will then great! If I don’t, I have to trust that it is better off not happening. So therein lies the tension.

Some of you will have responses to this like in Numbers 14 where Moses intercedes for the people of Israel and seemingly changes God’s mind. Others may say we see all over the bible to pray (delight your self in the Lord) and He will give you the desires of your heart. Still another person might focus on the conversational and relational aspect of the prayer more than the prayer itself. I agree with all of this, but my point lies elsewhere. Any way you slice it, the tension is there. The tension is the point.

Just like my post on invitation (click here if you didn’t read it) where the word invitation carries with it feelings of fun and inclusion, tension carries with it inherent feelings doesn’t it? Not nearly as good though. Tension brings to mind pain, even suffering, and pressure too. It’s unsettling (see what I did there). But just like unsettle, I don’t think the word tension doesn’t have to be a bad thing if we can lean into it well.

So why the tension? Why the hopelessness? Like so many things in my life, it is rooted in fear and pride. I am hopeless because I know that God knows better and I can’t have control. I fear what I can’t control and have pride that I know what is best. When confronted with this, I want to give up. I think I have no place in this. If God’s got this then He sure doesn’t need me. What I might call a posture of surrender sure starts to look like me washing my hands of the situation. “I left it at Jesus’ feet! He’ll take it from here. See ya!” If you don’t know me or my writing well, this is another example that most of my sentiments are full of hyperbole but are rooted in grains of truth.

This hyperbole exposes the issue at its core. Just because God doesn’t have to use us doesn’t mean He won’t. Let’s be honest, He didn’t have to send His son to die for us. Jesus didn’t have to do so much of what He did, but the thing is He did it. He did what had to be done so that He could still have a relationship with us. He could of wiped everyone out and started over. He has thought about it and even gotten close to doing it too (Reference: Old Testament – again and again and again.) At the end of the day we deserve it, but He loves us too much. He so wants to be with us. To know us, to see us, to love us.

What that has left us with is tension. A tension where God knows best, but still uses broken, everyday people like you and me. A tension where Jesus has come and we experience the Holy Spirit indwelling in us. Yet, the promises of the coming age have not yet come to pass. Some of you may recognize this as the Already/Not Yet kingdom. Jesus has already come, but He has not yet returned. His kingdom is not fully realized and restored on earth.

I need to release the hopelessness and recognize that it is actually tension. It is a discrepancy between His kingdom and the world we live in. Leaning into the tension as a thing of beauty instead of fearing it. The tension is a good thing. It means there is room for Him and the Spirit isn’t quenched. Live in the tension for what He can do with it. We long for clean lines and clear-cut prayers with answers. I prayed for this to happen and it did. God operates so much better in the messy, because it is only messy to us. To Him, it is a straight shot path of equipping, encouraging, and loving. Why? Because His goal isn’t results. His goal is relationships. His goal is you. All we can see is our temporary circumstances. He sees beyond that to setting up an eternity with His sons and daughters.

With this understanding, we can pray with authority. We can be bold. We can pray knowing that we have the Holy Spirit within us working and speaking through us. How? Because we aren’t doing it from our own strength. We are doing it from His. We pray that anything from Him will be magnified and anything from us will be muted. But we still pray. No matter what.

Father God – Sometimes I feel hopeless. Even in times of beauty and grace, I still feel hopeless. I want to pray and spread your name, but it all comes down to my fear and pride… again. Give me the ability to embrace the tension. Give me the voice to say, “Here I am!” once again to you. Where I can handle it, reveal to me your will so I can carry it forward. Where I can’t, replace my hopelessness with love of the tension. Thank you for your pursuit of me. Thank you for knowing me, seeing me, loving me. In Jesus’ Name – Amen.