Surrender

Last weekend eight friends from across the country joined me in the Smoky Mountains for a girls' getaway. Now, I know what you're thinking: four days of sleeping in, eating out, and hitting the outlet malls. (After all, it WAS tax-free weekend!) As tempting as that plan sounds, our weekend looked very different.

You see, these ladies came into my life over the past two years as we served side-by-side at a women's retreat in Colorado. We joke that eight days shared at this retreat equals eight years in real time (kind of like human years/dog years). We've shared our stories with one another - the good, bad, and ugly. We've worshiped, laughed, cried, and learned how to listen and pray together.

And that is exactly what this weekend was all about. We didn't go into our time together with a plan. No schedule. No expectations. Instead, we each arrived with a desire to engage, to listen, to surrender, and to intercede. It was beautiful.

On Friday, we were all set to go tubing. How better to introduce outsiders to East Tennessee (other than a trip to Dollywood, perhaps)? Just as we were finishing lunch, however, thunder rumbled and the skies opened up with rain. Instead of withdrawing for naptime, we gathered in the living room and began to listen to Karen's story. Listening turned into praying.

It was like that throughout the weekend. One by one, we would talk about our lives, our fears, our desires, and where God is (or where we don't see him) at work. And we would pray. It was as natural and easy as having a conversation with a dear friend.

For much of my life I thought that for prayer to be effective it had to follow a certain formula. If I missed a step (i.e. confession), then my words would either not reach God's ears or he would dismiss me because I'd not followed correct protocol. What I'm learning is that only one thing is required for effective prayer: surrender.

When we surrender in prayer, we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us and to provide the words. Romans 8:26-27 explains it this way: "We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God."

Prayer (or any other part of our life in Christ) isn't about method, requirement, or duty. If it is fear-based or formulaic, then I'd pose it's not Spirit led. I've found that true communion - with God and with others - comes when we lay everything else down to be present and to surrender. My weekend left me with such gratitude: for beautiful friends who are following God, fierce allies who are willing to pray, a patient God who continues to shepherd me, and the sweet experience of surrendering in prayer.

Praising

Birthdays, anniversaries, and milestones are marked in time - most honored with celebration and marked by joy; some remembered with grief and marked by tears. As March arrives each year with the blooming daffodils lining my route home, so does the memory of loss and the vacancy that resides in the place where a life should have flourished.

Andrew Peterson writes,

Michael Card’s book A Sacred Sorrow talks about the Hebrew word vav. It’s a word that means “and yet”, and is a crucial ingredient in almost every lament in scripture. Again and again, when you read the psalms, you hear the psalmist crying out against God, shaking his fist at the skies, demanding justice, wailing and abandoned, all but accusing God of being unworthy of our worship–basically, the psalmist is throwing a fit. Then, as if he’s exhausted himself, he says vav. “And yet, I will praise the Lord.” In spite of all evidence to the contrary, I believe in my bones that you are good. Your intentions for me are loving and kind. I believe in your presence though it feels like you have forsaken me. And yet. And yet. And yet. Those two desperate words may be the most faithful prayer we ever pray, and our most triumphant battle cry, though we whisper them through tears.

And yet...

A Prayer for Lent

How often have I lived through these weeks without paying much attention to penance, fasting, and prayer? How often have I missed the spiritual fruits of the season without even being aware of it? But how can I ever really celebrate Easter without observing Lent? How can I rejoice fully in your Resurrection when I have avoided participating in your death?

Yes, Lord, I have to die - with you, through you, and in you - and thus become ready to recognize you when you appear to me in your Resurrection. There is so much in me that needs to die: false attachments, greed and anger, impatience and stinginess...I see clearly now how little I have died with you, really gone your way and been faithful to it. O Lord, make this Lenten season different from the other ones. Let me find you again.

Amen.

~ Henri Nouwen, An Ash Wednesday Prayer