I confess that my prayers aren’t usually the most eloquent. Mine are mostly the breathless utterances of a longing spirit all throughout the day. I know that the Lord receives those prayers(Romans 8:26). However, most mornings I love borrowing the prayers of those beloved saints who have gone before–in this instance, the Puritans.
Today I’m sharing one from a book which has quickly become a favorite, Into His Presence, by Tim Chester. My dad introduced me to the Puritans back in high school, and I have been challenged and blessed by their words ever-since:
A Prayer for the Coming Day
Eternal Lord, you are the great fountain of being and of happiness. As from you my being was derived, so from you my happiness directly flows; the nearer I am to you the more delicious is the stream.
For with you is the fountain of life; in you light we see light. Psalm 36:9
To you may my waking thoughts be directed. May my first actions be consecrated to you, O God, who gives me, as it were, every morning a new life. Enable my heart to pour out itself before you with a filial reverence, freedom, and endearment. May I read your word with attention and pleasure, and may my soul be delivered into its mould. Animated by the great motives in your word, may I renew my dedication to you through Jesus Christ your beloved Son. May I derive from him new supplies of your Spirit, whose influences are the life of my soul.
Then Lord, lead me into the duties and events of the day. In the calling to which you have called me, may I abide with you, not being slothful, but fervent in spirit, as one who serves Christ. To your glory, O Lord, may my labours be pursued; and to your glory may my refreshments be sought.
May I be watchful to observe mercies from you; and may gratitude add a savour and relish to all. And when afflictions come, as in this life they must, may I remember that they come from you. Make me aware, I pray, of my own weaknesses, that my heart may be raised to you for present communications of strength. When I am in the society of others, may it be my desire to do and receive as much good as possible. And when I am alone, may I enjoy the pleasure of your presence. May I end each day with a right fear of you, Lord, and when I review my conduct, may I be impartial. May I resign myself to sleep in sweet serenity, conscious that I have lived to you in the day, and cheerfully persuaded that I am accepted by you in Christ Jesus my Lord.
The closing of the day can be a needed respite; necessary time to restore your body in preparation for a new day. However, it can also mean fresh fear for many of us. Nighttime–for some–means facing deep sorrow, or anxious, intrusive thoughts. It means fitful sleep and restless mental wandering. Ultimately, it means exhaustion–in every way possible.
As believers, we know this isn’t of the Lord.
My Help Comes from the Lord (Psalm 121)
A Song of Ascents.
121 I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? 2 My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. 4 Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. 6 The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. 8 The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.
We know–even though the terrors of night threaten to erase it–that we are kept. Our Father does not sleep, neither will harm come upon us. He holds us. He comes alongside us. He has given us precious promises by which we are sustained and upheld. Dear beloved saint of the Lord, rest.
There is a point during winter at which everything[for me, at least] feels heavy. The seeming permanence of the season weighs me down as the snow[though beautiful] continues to fall with no promise–or even glimpse–of any sign of Spring. Life in rural Vermont promises nothing less though, and I do at least appreciate its direct–though sometimes painfully blunt–nature. This is something I’ve grown to love during our time here–the consistency and resilience of the culture seeps into your soul before you have time to do anything but appreciate it.
And yet…
The days are long, cold and sometimes very[and quite literally] gray. This proves especially difficult for a highly introverted mama with tiny people who have no full way of expending energy. We have to embrace the bitterly cold days however , bundling up to spend at least some time outside, crafting, having tea time, telling stories, building tents, etc. I am endlessly grateful for our sizable, partially finished basement–perfect for racing cars, running, dancing, gymnastics, etc. These things are my saving grace on long days when I can’t seem to catch a break and my spirit feels grumpy.
Coming to Vermont I knew this weather would impact me as an INFP prone to seasonal depression. But right now this weight feels heavier than ever. The potential causes for this are numerous–depending on the day, my attitude, my expectations, etc. But mostly, I think, I’ve been discouraged because of the looming cultural darkness I’ve observed all around me. Sometimes it helps to step away from news/media/etc. and just breathe. I hope for better things. I pray for mercy, but ultimately I cannot ignore the reality that things may not get better here on earth. This is the result of living in a fallen world.
Today while sharing a beloved book(my favorite in the series) with my eldest, my heart found words which spoke into my heaviness pristinely.
The sailors on the Dawn Treader have sailed treacherous seas in search of lost lords, stumbling upon enchanted islands bearing witness to giants, monopods, treasure, dragons, magical people -and everything in between. Always hopeful at the prospect of finding Aslan’s country. And now–near the end– they find themselves surrounded by a suffocating darkness. This is a darkness uniquely known, yet never before felt, leaving everyone woefully worn and repressed to go on. It seems inescapable.
“Never get out!” he yelled. That’s it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out!
Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting-top and whispered, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now”. The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little–a very, very little–better. “After all, nothing has really happened to us yet, ” she thought.
“Look!” cried Rynelf’s voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and whilethey watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply-edged shadow.
Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong, sweet voice what seemed to be words, though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose and began to fly slowly ahead,bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, Courage, dear heart. And the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s and with the voice a delicious smell in her face.
In a few moments the darkness turned into grayness ahead, and then, almost before they dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Lewis)
Do I wonder why? Do I pray that things will change? Do I worry about the future? YES. But I was reminded that this darkness permeating the world is no news. The fact that people wounded, broken people walk the earth hurting other wounded, broken people is no surprise–not to me, and especially not to the Father.
In the weary winter days, the gloom sometimes leaves me feeling defeated. But my hope is not lost. There is always light, there is always peace. There is always a joy readily available when my gaze is transfixed on the “things above, not the things on earth”.
This week—I saw that light in the form of warmer days. The snow finally started to melt, the sun shone brightly and even though the wind whipped our bodies to and fro as we lingered outside, we could bear it. It was my heart’s personal charge to have courage; to endure. To live in remembrance of the immutable, unfading Light. And I do not take it for granted.
And so whenever these winter days envelop my spirit, feeling unbearably woeful and heavy, I want to look back and remember God’s faithful hand.
He does not leave us in our darkness, but instead pierces through with an unchanging, unshakable hope. We must watch for it. We must wait for it. For it is there all along.
To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore.
Jude 24-25
We live in a broken, fallen world. Every day, I wake up and struggle with that. As a wife and mother, most days I wrestle with feeling overwhelmed by my daily tasks. There is always something that needs to be done, but this season is precious! How do I savor the sweet moments with littles while also keeping the house clean? Sleep doesn’t feel restful, because there is too much to be done, and when I actually close my eyes it seems brief. On top of everything, there is this gnawing anxiety in my stomach regarding the future. Where will we go? What will our nation be like? What is going to happen to my children? What will their years as parents entail?
51/2 years ago, I became a mama. It was—apart from marriage—the most sobering transition I’ve faced so far. I carried this tiny baby in my womb, and suddenly, she was out in the world and we were magically parents. Did this mean I would know how to meet her needs? Not necessarily. I had to figure it out. Now, almost 6 years later, I have two more precious babes and life has been a whirlwind. I have loved every minute—even the messy, disorganized, smelly ones. But, some days, admittedly, I feel like I am barely surviving…barely hanging on by the thread of my last cup of [insert caffeine-infused drink here].
Recently, my heart has felt heavy. In just a matter of decades, this country has rapidly changed. In my heart, it feels like things continue to get worse. And I am grieved. I walk around daily wondering how we could ever move into it. But then I realized: it may not be that this world has gotten worse. Maybe I’m just noticing its fallen nature more. I remember years ago crying out to the Lord regarding my own heart:
Father, I want to do this well. Show me. I don’t want to feel drained of energy constantly, and discouraged because my heart is finding hope in the temporal. Help!
In a [rare] quiet moment that day, He whispered, I am here. I am for you. I love you. I am holding you. In every season, in every transition, whatever the circumstance, I do not change. Embrace my fearless love. Rest in my unchanging ways. Cling to me as your hope. And remember that in everything, I am God. I am in control. You are not meant to merely survive. Run to me each morning. Lay your burdens on me; I can handle it. In doing that, you will flourish.
The truth is: this world is no worse than it was after the Fall. Hurting people have–and always will–continue to hurt other people, ultimately because they have lost sight of (or never saw) their need to be whole. But the beauty of beholding brokenness is found in the grace of recognizing our need for rescue. This world and its desires will continue to deteriorate around us–and believers may suffer–but there is hope in knowing Christ! He alone is our solid Refuge and Strength(Psalm 46:1), and He is in control. No matter what happens, we can rest in His sovereign will. We can stop, fix our gaze on Him, and endure well–prayerfully engaging in opportunities to point others to Him.
Beloved friends, do not lose heart! Wherever you are this morning, however you feel, whatever you face, stop and take a moment to meditate on who God is(Psalms 103-104)! He is the Creator, the Holy One, the perfect Redeemer. As we fix our eyes on Him, the wearying circumstances of earth will surely grow strangely dim, and our hearts will press on in encouraged certainty. Oh, to have a heart fully fixed on his face! Oh, to rest in who He is! May our fickle hearts find peace in Him alone!
Other helpful avenues of encouragement:
1. Seek out community. Specifically biblical community through a local body of believers(Hebrews 10:23-24). God has not called you to live out this purpose alone. Find a friend or a group of friends to walk alongside and pray with you. It helps, I promise. Plus, you’ll meet some wonderful people. In every season, God has provided faithful friendships that have spanned our marriage, despite many life transitions. Just recently I was thanking God for providing godly and goofy friends–those people with whom I can breathe and life feels a little less lonely. It has been a rich blessing and I am grateful.
2. Pray. By yourself. With another woman. Both. You will be reminded of what God is doing and how to continue praying to that end. Plus, you’ll become more aware of your daily dependence on Christ (2 Chronicles 7:14, John 15:5) 3. Memorize the Word. Find a passage to claim over this situation and know. Chew on it daily until it is burned in your mind. That way, when the Enemy tries to attack, you can fight him with the inerrant, infallible, sufficient promises of God. Let this very word counsel your weary, restless heart. (Psalm 119:23) 4. Pour out. For me personally, when the hard days come, I ask the Lord for opportunities to serve Him—whether through checking in on a friend, writing a note, making a care package for someone, etc. I’m learning there are many ways to creatively love people even when you’re tied down by a busy schedule. Psalm 126:6 is one of my favorite promises–the Lord will be honored when we seek to invest rather than isolate. 5. Be vulnerable. Share your struggles. The more open and honest you are with others about how you have been challenged, the more opportunities you have to share about what God has done! As a dear friend and mentor once told me, “We’re all in this boat together. We just need to know we’re not alone”. And chances are(as I’ve learned) you aren’t.
What about you? What is your calling today? This week? In this season of life? Who are your “people”? What is your burden? Surrender it to the Father.
Redeeming the Mundane 