Prayer isn’t easy or happy-go-lucky or a wishlist of ponies and pixies and faerie dust.
It’s a fight.
A full on mental, emotional, and (most importantly) spiritual battle that you have to choose to enter into and give your all to.
Prayer is hard.
It means picking up a sword and running headlong into the enemy lines, screaming at the top of your lungs. It’s courage and hope and love and strength. It’s standing up for others and protecting them when they can’t stand on their own.
Not the sweet, flitty-eyelashes, top-of-the-world, I’ll hold your hand and make you giggle kind of “love” our world sings about and obsesses over. Not a silly feeling that fades away, leaving people empty in search of it, quick to throw away a marriage cuz it’s just not there anymore.
No. It means loving. Really loving. Loving so hard it hurts you.
It’s watching your brother’s back. It’s carrying him when he’s wounded. It’s taking his fight for him and not daring to let go, because you know he can make it, with a little extra strength. It’s giving up your own safety, making yourself vulnerable for the sake of another. It’s hard work. It drains you. It’s needed.
And it’s worth it. Every tear.
You don’t need your own strength. God’s got that.
You don’t have to worry about your safety. God’s got that, too.
It’s just a letting go, a giving up, a selfless sacrifice for the sake of another, for the sake of God’s Kingdom.
Did I mention it’s hard?
(I, for one, suck at it. No, really. If I’ve got a sword, I obviously haven’t mastered it yet; I can just see myself flailing around chopping awkwardly at air. But I’d like to call myself a warrioress in training, if you will. Perhaps I can send the bad guys running for fear of the vicious air chopping, at the least – seriously, who wants their head caught up in that madness?)
That parenthesis enclosed insert was an irrelevant taste of Nessa’s brain that doesn’t have much to do with anything. Except that I’m saying: it’s hard and I’m far from handling it properly, but I’m trying. God’s teaching me. And I’ve been so very, very blessed as to have great and amazing warriors and warrioresses fighting all of my battles with me since the beginning of my meager existence.
Thank God, or I wouldn’t be here, happily humming away my days.
That’s the happy thought, though! We are not alone.
We don’t run on our own strength!
Even the worst of air flailers can be a medieval hero and save the day. Cuz we’re not controlling our own fights, we’re just saying, “Hey, God. Use me.”
…and if you say that, and mean it, and let yourself hurt?
Well then, He will.
Note: I’m referring specifically to intercessory prayer here. There is much, much more to prayer, obviously: praise, thanksgiving, simply… being with God etc, etc, etc! I was just having a random rant about praying for others, as I feel like it’s so overlooked as a general rule, and we need to stand up and FIGHT!
Anyway. That’s all, fer naaaooo. Have a jolly liife.