The Bible

Lately, I have been in some sort of funk. A rough spot. I could try to explain, but I can't make sense of it, even to myself. It is unfamiliar and unpleasant and I have been unfamiliar and unpleasant in it. Hopefully it will go away soon.

Because of the funk, or maybe to defy it, I have been spending a lot of time memorizing Scripture. I used to do this a lot when I was younger, but haven't as much in recent years. I'm making my way through Psalm 119 because it is all about God's word. The law of the Lord. Longing for it. Needing it. Walking in its ways. I figure if I get this Word and keep it inside of my head, then it will trickle down to the rest of me and I will be ok. In Psalm 1, David talks about how the person who delights in the law of the Lord is like a tree planted by rivers of water. And in Jeremiah 17, there is another tree analogy. It says a man who trusts and hopes in the Lord will be like a tree planted by rivers of water that spreads out its roots by the river. It isn't afraid of heat or anxious about drought because it is so connected to the river. I want to be like that tree. I want my roots to be in Him and in His Word so that I will be grounded, not fragile. Those roots will make this funk trivial.

I first stumbled upon those verses in Jeremiah (17:7,8) a couple of years ago. They made a mark on me. I started the lines below then. I guess its sort of a prayer.

A Tree By the River

Make me like a tree by the river
whose leaves of green will ever grow
make me like a tree by the river
who finds its strength in the river's flow

Make me like a tree by the river
who fears no loneliness or shame
make me like a tree by the river
who calls itself by the river's name

Make me like a tree by the river
who worries not about its need
make me like a tree by the river
whose roots reach down to the river's deep

Make me like a tree by the river
that stands strong in drought, wind, and rain
make me like a tree by the river
whose life began when the river came

Make me like a tree by the river
who knows from where it's glory comes
make me like a tree by the river
who shows the world what the river's done

Prayer

I have struggled with prayer for as long as I have been a pray-er. Every day, thousands of days, I have prayed and trudged through the minutes until the amen. I used to pray with worship music as my backdrop. I would pray and pace the for floor every day and most of the time I think I enjoyed it because the music helped me to feel close to God and it helped to sort of stir the passion for the subjects of my prayers. For the past several years, I have ceased with the accompaniment and more often than not, I start my day, after having spent a brief chunk of time with God, more dry and frustrated than when I woke up. Last week, as I was parking my car at work, I had a thought that I think may solve 20 years worth of problems. It's so simple.

I don't pray so that I can feel close to God. I pray because the Bible says to pray. I don't pray so that I can feel connected to Him. I pray to be obedient. I have looked at prayer as a chance to have an emotional encounter with God. The better and stronger the emotion, the more validated would be the closeness of my relationship with Him. I do think that God wants to have close and intimate relationship with us, and I'm sure there are times when that intimacy will be expressed through strong feelings, but I bet our obedience matters more to Him than our emotion.

Sometimes, the feelings may follow the prayers. Probably, they won't more than they do. This takes some pressure off. I don't need to create times of intimate connection with God every day, at least not in the way that I have been trying to. My job is to pray with an obedient and humble heart. That is all. If the close feelings come, great. If they don't, they don't. My relationship with God will not be so fragile as to fall apart in the dry or quiet days. I guess I have been going about this all wrong for most of my life. How did I miss something that was right in front of me?

Sadness

When I look at my life, and the girl at center stage, I see sadness there. I see a kid who carried a heavy load and who hoped, like all kids do, in spite of it. Eventually, the weight of the load grew too heavy for the weight of the hope and one of them had to go. Sadly, it was hope that dropped to the ground as she went on her way. As proof of the heaviness that won, she didn't even notice when hope was gone. This girl didn't always make the best choices. She preferred to walk alone as much as she could. She developed the habit of hiding her face, her feelings, and her deepest, truest self from everyone, even from herself. For years, she went on this way and she opened her heart to only two things: the pages that she wrote on and the music that she played. They knew her when she wept. They were there when she was lost. They offered friendship that was safe and comfort without cost. So she wrote and she wrote and she played and she played. The music gave hope and the pages, escape. They made her load lighter, but they could never remove it. It wasn't their job. What she really needed was something that scared her. Something she feared would make the weight of the load too heavy for her and what would she do then? How would she manage? She had found a way that seemed to work. She felt joy and hope sometimes and hardly even noticed the bricks on her back anymore. That old Truth would come and make her face the sorrow of her heart. It would tell her she was meant to stand straighter, not burdened as she was. It would tell her she was made to be brave and free and loved. It would ruin everything. So she pushed away what frightened her and she convinced herself that her way was the best way. She was wrong. What she really needed was honesty and truth from her head to her toes. From the light in her eyes to the marrow in her bones. She needed them because they would have made room for hope. They would have told her its ok to be sad. And then the sadness would have passed. And in its place, somewhere deeper than the weight of the load could reach, would have been hope that lasts. She thought she knew what was best, but she was wrong. The sadness snuck in and it latched on. Now the girl is a woman and she's fighting for a way to be free. I know she's going to find a way, because finding it is everything.