Category: prayer

Christian, Where is Your Umbrella?

Sometime ago there was a town which had experienced a prolonged and difficult drought. There was no water to be found for crops and livestock, and hardly enough for the people of this once prosperous village.

There was nothing to be done, and is often the case the town fathers finally turned to the churches for help. This usually happens when no other solution can be found.

 The pastors met and after much discussion came to a decision on a course of action. They decided to call together the people of faith to come in one place and beseech God to send rain. The thinking was if they could get all the people in a single spot, and if all of them combined their prayer, God might move, and turn on the spigots of heaven.

 A time was set and promptly announced throughout the town. The pastors requested that everyone who gathered at the town square should bring with them some item of devotion. When everyone gathered–en masse, they filled the square to overflowing. The pastors were amazed and blessed, not only by the great turnout but by all the crosses and crucifixes, the icons, the rosaries and Bibles that the people brought with them.

 At the appointed end of this gathering, the speaker implored the Lord for mercy. In that very moment, it started to thunder. All of a sudden, it began to rain. The people shouted, and waved their crosses and beads, and their holy books. Some danced and leaped for joy. In the middle of the crowd, one item held up by a nine year old boy gripped the attention of everyone. He lifted up his umbrella.

………………

 I honestly don’t know if this story actually happened. But I do know faith is a powerful thing. It is that utter confidence that God is going to do something, and then being rewarded when it actually happens.

As people who struggle with mental disorders or other chronic illnesses, we need to know that our God is alive and that he wants to get involved in our lives. Those family and friends who support us also need that assurance.

 We must approach God by faith (Hebrews 11:1) and believe is going to reward us (v. 6). Being a person of faith is to be audacious and daring. It is to live life as if it were an adventure of faith. You may continue to be ill and struggle, but you will live life bold and free.

ybic, Bryan

 

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Pain and Prayer in Poetry

This poem is an acrostic of sorts. When I originally wrote it I titled it Prayer, but the acrostic letters that begin each stanza spell PAIN. It was written at a time I was in a lot of physical and emotional pain, and found that prayer was the best way to find relief, if not physically at least mentally and emotionally.

Prayer

Prayer finds me
seeking You for
comfort and healing
here on my knees

As I come to You
my mind is turned
to others who need
what I seek for me

Immanuel, You
are with me now
as I focus on You
instead of my pain

Never to forsake me
You have promised
I find it is true
when You I seek

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Prayer for Protection

by Patrick, (c. 387 – March 17, 493)

I arise today,
Through God’s strength to pilot me;

God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s hosts to save me
From snares of the devil,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who desires me ill,
Afar and near,
Alone or in a multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,

Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul.
Christ shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

Amen.

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Broken Prayers From the Edge

I lock the doors.  Close the curtains.  And let God have it.

I clinch my fists in a maddening rage as my hands tremble violently.  Within moments, my fingers ache from the intense, white-knuckle tightness.  And my forearms cramp up.  The blood rushes to my head.  And my eyes burn and burn and burn from the tears.

I speak, then shout — and scream.

My voice becomes raspy as I rant.  And soon, my throat burns.  My heart is aflame with grief and rage, so much so that my ears can no longer understand the words coming out of my mouth.  Before it’s over, I will blow my nose several times and wipe my eyes often and much.

I am broken — and I am praying.

I start with the loss of my friend, JD, a man taken far, far too soon.  A man who left behind a wife and two children.  I tell God that I do not think it is fair for his children to grow up without a father.  And then, I ask God why He didn’t take me instead, that I want to be with my children, that I don’t have any here for me.

“All I do is suffer and I am sick to death of it!!!”

And then, I rant about all the believers — never the broken — who paint a picture of life with Christ as a portrait of perfection.  Their grandiose testimonies have made me feel like God has something against me, like grace is a joke for people like me because my life has been so hard.  My brokenness is not the result of one trial, nor one tragedy — but a lifetime of unbearable loss.

“And it just keeps happening!!!”

I rattle off the names of those I’ve lost in just the past five years:  Jerry, Britany, Virginia, Rob, Terry, Nancy, Leroy, Art, Kim, Greg, Melody — and now JD.  I tell God that I am the anti-Midas.  Everything King Midas touched turned to gold, but I feel like everything I touch turns to dirt.  I am cursed.  “God has raised His fist against me.”

“How am I supposed to go on?  How?”

And then, in that moment, all of my rage and all of my grief and all that I am burns and burns and burns for The Almighty.  I am a man of faith — and, even in the midst of this monstrous mess my life has become, I know that He could end every ounce of this despair with a simple whisper.  A sign.  A something.  Anything.

“If You would just speak, this madness would end!”

With the last tissue, I tell God that I am convinced He wants me to suffer — alone, in this maddening agony.  I tell Him that I have given up on Him, that I cannot take any of this any more.  That I am broken.  And my heart is dead.  My pain is too great, my anguish too deep.  And that I will never serve God again for as long as I live.

“I can’t do it!  I can’t do it!  I just can’t do it!”

Three days later, God spoke to me through a dream.

“In my dream, I had a vision…”

To learn more, read “Safe in the Mouth of Danger.”

 

Love,

The NorEaster

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