Friday, April 18, 2014

What happens when you cry in yoga class and the dumbest prayer I ever prayed

Ok, nothing really happens when you burst out crying in a class of twenty people all doing the pigeon pose. Other than there is a weird muffled, snot sound and you feel like a hot, embarrassed mess.
But that has been me. Feeling feelings.
I am usually a feeling stuffer. I can become disconnected emotionally. I do it to protect myself from getting so happy that  it hurts when hopes are dashed, or so sad I can not move forward. I do it to feel in control of my surroundings. Not feel.
Which is why I was taken by surprise when I began to sob in my propped-up-on-blocks pigeon pose. It is a pose I am used to. I love the hip opening burn of it. But I am so protective of my chest, that I can't fully rest with chest laying on my bended knee anymore. I don't know if that is even the real reason I cried. Maybe it was a simple release reflex, and me acknowledging that I am NOT in control (one more time out of millions of times.)

It seems like the older I get, the less I know. The less I can do. The less I understand. 
And I think this is exactly what God wants me to feel. I am and always have been out of control, and I think He wants me to feel it.
I have been reading A Praying Life by Paul Miller, (a book I highly recommend) and in it, he talks about this very thing. He quotes John of Landsburg, in his sixteenth century book, A Letter From Christ, who imagines Jesus saying to us:
"...I don't want you to rely on your own strength and abilities and plans, but to distrust them and to distrust yourself, and to trust Me and no one and nothing else. As long as you rely entirely on yourself, you are bound to come to grief. You still have a most important lesson to learn: your own strength will no more help you to stand upright than propping yourself on a broken reed. You must not despair of Me. You may hope and trust in me absolutely. My mercy is infinite."

So, my feelings of craziness, out of control, can't think, can't do, don't know, fumbling bumbling tripping speeding kamikaze, can be a GRACE designed to cause me to turn to Jesus - who IS in control. Who loves me and my family. 
Because when I am at the end of my rope, I cling to Him.

This week was my final chemotherapy treatment. How overjoyed we all are! I have felt my soul breathe a sigh of relief.
But I have to say that as hard as it has been, I have been blessed a hundred times more than the sorrow it has brought. It has proven the trustworthiness of God and put into perspective the ingredients of my life here on earth. And I don't want to lose that perspective.
I'm actually scared I will lose that perspective.
So that brings me to the dumbest prayer I ever prayed:
"Lord, don't allow me to fall into a sense of my own control, that I might turn to something other than You."

And then I told Him, "wait, I don't mean that! I need rest!"
A small voice inside me whispered the words I know to be true:

 "I (the Lord) am the one that gives rest in the middle of a storm."
 "I fight your battles, you only need to be still."

The day after I prayed my oh, so risky prayer, I begin to feel a change coming to our household. I won't go into detail about it yet, but I can sense that God is answering my desire to cling to Him.

I have to admit, even with all of His proof of faithfulness, I am still afraid!
 I still don't know.
 I still don't fully understand
But I am willing to push my quaking boots into one more step after Him. And then one more step after that.
 I think that is all it takes. 
A minute step forward, as our completely-real childlike selves, towards our God.

P.S. Happy Easter.
"He has done it!" Psalm 22:31

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