MY PRAYER FOR EASTER FESTIVAL
Burst bubbles and tattered pieces pray. . .
Today I just want to sit quietly at Your feet, Lord. Sometimes life comes and takes away one’s words for You, simply. Sometimes one gets caught up in a habitual prayer, such a back-and-forth of words. . . Dear-Jesus-soft-and-tender. . . forgive my sin . . be with all those who are sick and hurting. . . Amen. . . and then we run on through the day, sometimes so ‘fake’, right Lord?
And then one day life comes and takes away what we pray for. Yes, Lord, it’s as if there is a bubble in one’s heart. . . and in that bubble you live the perfect life, you pray the perfect pray. In that bubble there is no place for death or disease or brokenness or pain. In that bubble you think life will never happen to you.
And then life happens, Lord. . . and one’s bubble bursts. And the death of a person of heart, washes over one’s heart, over your life. Or you get sick. . . terminally ill, terminally ill . . . or you lose your job. . . your security. And the bubble bursts. And when one’s bubble bursts, Lord, the crying and the tired and the scared and the angry wash through one’s body, above your thoughts and your actions, and lie deep in your eyes. When your heart’s bubble bursts, Lord, sometimes your prayers just disappear.
That’s when one runs like Jairus past all of life’s rules, rushes into where You are working, and cries out imploringly: “Lord, come and see. . .” That’s when we grasp Your hands and say brokenly, “Come and see, Lord.” . . my child is dead Come and see, Lord, my body is broken and sick. Come and see, Lord. . . they hijacked me and left me for dead on the side of the road. Come and see, Lord. . . “And then You leave everything, and You go and see, right Lord?
When we place our broken pieces of prayer before Your feet, You immediately notice the burst bubble. The sad and broken, the defeated that will lie on our faces. . . You see it. When we lay down our broken pieces of prayer before Your feet, it is You who gently wraps Your hands around our hearts, looks quietly into our eyes and gently tells us: “I am here . . . I’m not leaving.”
Thank you, Lord, for not looking for the perfect prayer. Because perfect praying excludes you from the bubble. Thank You for knowing a burst bubble and knowing what to do with the raw pieces of prayer that come out of it. Thank you for walking through the broken bubble deep into our hearts. And there, where everything is chaos and confusion, You carefully begin to put things right again and fix them and make them whole and make them better.
Sometimes our heart’s bubble has to burst, Lord, so that You can find a place inside it too. Beyond all the ‘fake’ and the ‘pretend’ and the ‘masks’. Sometimes our heart’s bubble has to burst, so that You can pack Your peace around our hearts, one by one, like pieces of bricks. Sometimes our heart’s bubble must burst, Lord, so that we can know that we may only speak to You in broken words. . . because sometimes, Lord, just sometimes the perfect bubble prevents us from coming close to You.
Thank you that my heart’s broken bubble, paths lead to You. Thank you for reminding me every day of one day’s One Day. . . when You fold up the broken bubble in my body’s little tent, and excitedly show me my new place to live, there with You. There where bubbles don’t burst, Lord.
Thank you YAHSHUA my King. . . .
YAHVAH my Elohim