Posts Tagged ‘prayer’

How Then Shall We Pray?

Because life seems complicated, it’s easy to assume our relationship with God–the creator of the universe — would be complicated, too.

But the beauty of the gospel is its simplicity.

The gospels teach us to “Seek and you will find” (Matthew 7:7)

The disciples’ relationship with Jesus illustrates this lesson beautifully.

After witnessing the power Jesus found through praying to His father, they made a very childlike request — teach us how to do that, too!

The gospels of Matthew and Luke depict Jesus’ patient response to His seeking friends. Rather than lecturing them on theology or burying them in details, Jesus taught them this simple prayer:

Our Father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Forgive us our sins, as we forgive our those who sin against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever.

Amen.

In fact, it’s so simple that it’s estimated to take a person, on average, just  21 seconds to pray it.

21 Seconds to Change Your World…

Awhile back I read a little book called 21 Seconds to Change Your World. I was encouraged to realize the power in this seemingly simple prayer.

It’s so simple that we teach it to very young children. I was five or six when I learned the Lord’s Prayer, huddled with a friend under a blanket, flashlight illuminating the words, laughing and giggling as we memorized this prayer together to meet a challenge given to us by a Sunday school teacher.

Yet Jesus himself prayed this very prayer.

After reading the book, I took Rutland up on his challenge to pray the Lord’s Prayer at least twice a day.

And here’s what I learned.  

The Lord’s Prayer is simple. So simple I can drop my mind into it as soon as I wake up in the morning — before I can make sense of any other thought of my own. Yet it is so full — it’s new every time I pray it.

Here is How You Should Pray…

“Our Father, who art in heaven . . .”

First, we remind ourselves of the nature of our relationship to God — He is our Father.

“Hallowed be Thy name.”

Next, we are reminded that He is holy — even just the sound of His name has power.


“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done On earth as it is in heaven.”

Here, we invite our Father to come into our world, into our lives.

Some translations ask “Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven,” implying an invitation for God to come into our world.  Because we ourselves are made of “earth,” many argue that this request not only asks God to have His will in our world or on our planet, but also to bring His will about in our earthly bodies and in our very selves. In this way, I’m asking Him to change me, to guide my actions; I’m asking my Father to accomplish His purpose in and through me.

Meet Our Needs…

“Give us this day our daily bread.”

This request asks for God’s provision which often extends beyond our physical needs. When I ask for my “daily bread,” sometimes I am asking for resources to meet the needs of my family, but most often the “daily bread” I find myself asking for is strength for the day, knowledge and insight to solve problems, the ability to manage life’s demands.

And don’t miss this: daily bread implies that He will give us what we need for now, but that He expects us to return tomorrow to ask again. Jesus doesn’t pray the way I might:  “give us enough bread to store up for the future . . .” He wants us to depend on Him and keep returning to Him as our source for all we need.

And by asking for daily bread,” and not a “daily feast” the phrase also reminds me that I am asking my Father to meet my NEEDS, not to do things my way and fulfill all my wants.

I’ve noticed that the majority of my prayers are of the “daily bread” variety. My prayers are often rushed and tossed up desperately toward God in moments of need, with little recognition of who He is as my Father or a sincere invitation for Him to probe my life with His Holy Spirit and bring His kingdom to life in me. But the prayer Jesus taught us to pray devotes only one short sentence to this request, illuminating the importance of the many other ways we can relate to our heavenly Father.

Next, Jesus prayed,

Forgiveness…Offered…Received…

“Forgive our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.”

I’m reminded that my Father cares about the state of my relationships. I will be forgiven in the same way that I forgive others.

Here I am asking God to keep the channel of grace and mercy open in my life — so that I can offer grace and forgiveness as abundantly and readily to others as my Father offers it to me. I can bring specific relationships to Him and ask for Him to show me how to forgive like Him and then also give me the ability to do it. I can confess my own sins and ask for His forgiveness.

By keeping these two things together in my mind — my willingness to forgive others and my absolute dependence upon His forgiveness for me — He is daily reminding me that this is how the free flow of grace works in our lives: I am not forgiven for myself only; I am forgiven so that I may also extend forgiveness and mercy in all my interactions with others.

Deliver Us…

“And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil.”

The first part of this request has often seemed strange to me. It seemed to imply that we need to ask God not to lead us straight into temptation — as if He would.

But the Message translation says here:

Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.”

This translation makes great sense to me. I often feel a need to be protected from my own tendency to choose actions that end up hurting myself and those around me.

Maybe the most important part of this request is the fact that we are asking God to lead us.

This request shows that I am prepared to follow, that I am ready to follow His guidance and do what He teaches.

Praying this phrase, I am declaring that following God is the way to avoid temptation. His leading will actually take me another way altogether — freeing me from my tendency to walk toward temptation and leading me a different way.  

“But deliver me from evil.”

Again, The Message translation is helpful: “Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.

This is a prayer that recognizes that the injuries I sustain in spiritual battle are not always my doing. Sometimes the trouble is simply the result of the presence of evil in the world. This request acknowledges the nature of the spiritual struggle taking place within me.

Early in the prayer, I asked God to come in to my world and to come intimately into my very life. In this request, I’m asking God to completely break my chains, to bring me out of the clutches of evil and bring me into the safety of following Him.

It All Belongs To You…

“For thine is the kingdom . . .”

Thefor here explains why we are making these requests of Him.

Everything is His — it all belongs to Him  — and because it all belongs to Him, He is in charge of it. He is my authority, so it is to Him I bring my requests.


“ . . . and the power . . .”

I am asking all these things BECAUSE I believe that my Father has the ability to make these things so. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe He could answer. He has the power to grant these requests and meet these needs.


“ . . . and the glory forever.”

Here I am recognizing that I understand WHY He will meet these needs — to bring glory and honor back to Himself.  In my gratitude, I can point back to Him, showing HIm and myself and the watching world that I recognize the reality that I am free because of my Father, and I am fully dependent on Him. I am rescued by Him and saved for His purposes.

Yes…Jesus…

“Amen.”

The Message translation says “Yes. Yes. Yes.” By lining up my heart with this prayer — this model prayer that Jesus is teaching — I am saying “yes” to all that God is and all that He gives me. I am in full agreement with His plans for me and inviting Him to make those plans reality.

He listens to hear us offer that “yes” — He wants us to line up our desires with His desires. Remember, Jesus himself prayed this way. These are things the Father certainly already desired to do in and through the life of Jesus.  But just as He does with us, God wanted Jesus to align his heart with the Father’s plan.

Then He brings His power into our lives and makes it happen as He has designed it to happen from the beginning.

Through this prayer, Jesus found the strength and provision He needed to accomplish — not only through His spirit, but also in and through His physical body — the greatest mission and highest purpose that could ever exist — the salvation of every person created by God.

The Simplicity of Prayer…

Jesus gave us this simple prayer — not because He thought we were too “simple” ourselves to understand more, but knowing that God’s plan, His intentions and willingness to come into my life and make it His kingdom, is a beautifully straightforward plan.

But Jesus also teaches us this prayer because it works. It aligns with the ways God wants to work in our lives.

Jesus is a good teacher; He is showing us how to pray most effectively. These are the prayers our Father stands ready to answer. This is the way His kingdom works and the way He brings it to life in us.

When and  if I start praying in other ways (“give us bread for a month, help me rise above others in power, make things go my way, let me flirt with temptation by stay safe from harm”), I will not receive the answers I am hoping for.  Those prayers seem to say “here, God, I have this all figured out. Just do things my way, please.” Those prayers proclaim “For MINE is the kingdom, power, and glory,” pushing me out front, leaving me alone and vulnerable rather than standing in my rightful place as a child of God, my Father.

I am thankful for this simple prayer — the promise that when we pray this way, God is ready and waiting to answer us.

I challenge you to make this prayer a part of your conversation with God each day. Ask Him to open your mind and imagination to each part. And enjoy the exciting knowledge that this is a prayer that is never a waste of your time.

This is a prayer that Jesus himself prayed in order to fulfill the most important, most meaningful, and most difficult of tasks –obtaining our salvation and securing our eternity with Him.  

If it was good for Jesus to pray this way, then I believe it is also good for me.

 

 

Briana McDonough
“I’m a wife, mommy, teacher, writer, reader, and child of God.”

 

 

 

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Lessons From The Frazzled Mom

Why Mother’s Day Was Difficult…

On Mother’s Day, people tend to talk a lot about how wonderful mothers are and how accomplished they are at doing All. The. Things.

My first couple of Mother’s Days were difficult because of this.

I spent most of my time back then thinking about all the ways I wasn’t winning in this game of motherhood. Having spent a good deal of my life up to that point working toward and achieving goals, I was finding this task of motherhood to be a different beast altogether.

The rules seemed difficult to discern, and the expectations for what it meant to be a “good mother” depended entirely on who you asked.

I longed to find that sense of accomplishment I remembered from a task well done, but I was finding it difficult to even complete a task.

I could start the day with a clearly outlined to-do list but find myself at the end of the day looking around at a mess of laundry and dishes and projects left undone.

I remember thinking to myself that I had imagined somehow a magic transformation would overtake me some time during pregnancy and labor and delivery — that somehow or other I would be equipped to figure out my child’s every need and have an intuitive sense of how to meet those needs.

But my baby boy was baffling. As beautiful as he was, and as much as my heart treasures those early days, most of my memories of his newborn weeks are of the frustration of trying to get him to eat.

The nature of the struggle seemed, to me, to be absurd. Though I’d anticipated some challenges, I couldn’t believe that I was stuck so soon out of the gate. I was rapidly failing the very first test of motherhood.

I had believed that a mother would have answers about how to care for her child, and within those first several days as a mother, I was confronted with all the things I didn’t know how to do.

I couldn’t make him eat. I couldn’t get him to sleep. I couldn’t seem to comfort him when he cried, and I felt inadequate in ways I’d never felt before.

While I still often long for those early days of motherhood when my children would hunt me down in any room of our house just for my company, when they would snuggle sweetly in my arms, I’ll tell you what I feel marked those days more than any other sensation — the sense that I was in over my head, that I didn’t know how to do this thing well, the fear that I would somehow mess up the most important task and challenge of my life — mothering my children. Everyone else seemed convinced I could do this; my husband and family were so supportive and encouraging. But somehow behind their words I continued to hear the lies over and over again, and I continued to let my heart agree with them.

This was the mood my fourth Mother’s Day. With a four-year-old little boy clinging to my hand and an 8-month-old baby girl snuggled in my arms — two little ones I loved more than I’d ever known I could love — and a strangling sense deep in my gut that I’d been had this time. I had somehow convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough to be their mom.

I enjoyed the celebration, but I also harbored a lot of secret doubts and worries deep down inside. Somehow, the praise heaped on mothers at Mother’s Day — the sweet messages inside the cards and the families in the commercials — just made me feel even less capable by contrast. The sentiments of Mother’s Day seemed to poke deliberate and mocking fun at the wound deep inside me — the fear planted like a weed inside my mind and taking root there — isolating me in my anxiety and shame.

Disney World The Happiest Place on Earth…

A month after my fourth Mother’s Day, we took a family vacation to the happiest place on earth: Disney World.  By all accounts, (and perfectly in line with my generally trumped up expectations about all moments our family spent at Disney World), we should have been having the absolute time of our lives. Like everything else, I’d set this week up in my mind like a series of tasks to successfully accomplish in order to prove to myself that I was fit for the job.

And we did have lots of fun.

But mostly we were exhausted and hot and doing our very best to connect all the dots and see all the cool things and ride all the rides and find all the diaper changing stations and avoid all the friendly, giant costumed characters relentlessly stalking us through the park because we knew they would send our little boy into fearful hysterics. And meal times were a puzzle because our baby girl would need a high chair, our boy would only eat chicken nuggets, and the mathematical calculations required to decide how much of our life’s savings to invest in said overpriced chicken nuggets was exhausting.

I know those of you with more than two children might shake your head, chuckle and call these lightweight concerns. And it wasn’t lost on me that this situation should not have had me tied up in knots. But the reality that I still hadn’t figured out how to care for my family without a fuss and struggle still had me convinced that I was inept.

Pizza Planet Fiasco…

So, the situation was this:

We were at Pizza Planet, a restaurant, incidentally, that our little guy had eagerly anticipated visiting since it was based on one of his favorite movies, Toy Story.

But there was a hitch.

My boy had never liked pizza.

He had never pretended to like pizza.

But somehow, on this day, I dug in and decided that THIS was the exact moment to engage this battle. THIS was important and right and necessary, and because my identity as a “capable” mother was on the line, I made this threat:

We were at Disney World, at Pizza Planet, a restaurant which served only pizza. He was four years old and hungry and WOULD eat his lunch.

Or, he would not set foot in the next room . . . an arcade so glorious and larger-than-life that we could hear the beeps and trills, feel the glow of the colorful lights, and absorb the moving, flashing, dancing stimulation through our peripheral vision . . .

The arcade was beckoning my little boy. All that stood between him and the time of his life was that pizza.

Heaven for a four-year-old boy, just out of reach.

Lines had been drawn.

The stage was set.

And somehow, I believed the magic of Disney World would supernaturally override the reality of four years of relational history — more of these battles had ended in ugly retreat on my part than had ever resulted in the triumph of parental victory.

In plain English — my boy never backed down.

And as badly as he wanted to run into that arcade and play and explore with his daddy, he could not, would not, eat one bite of pizza.

I’d taken the situation from bad to worse in record time, and now our child’s heartbroken sobs drowned out all the merriment of the arcade and quickly drew the attention of everyone around us trying to enjoy the air conditioning and the pizza.

I had created a mess for myself and I knew it.

I was upset and frustrated with my little boy, but I was more angry at myself for putting us in this impossible stand-off.

In those moments, all I could do was stand in the restaurant and feel shame from head to toe.

Ashamed that my son was crying, and everyone was looking.

Ashamed that strangers were watching my apparent parenting failure in a drama unfolding before them and judging me —

Ashamed that my husband and in-laws were seeing me at my worst — choosing to engage in a battle with my four-year-old son over a slice of pizza.

I was ashamed that I couldn’t solve this problem and ashamed that every attempt I had made to “handle it” had made the whole situation worse.

There was nothing to do but disappear.

So, I grabbed my boy’s little hand, marched both of us outside, sought refuge in a corner, and sat us both down. I put the two of us in a time out.

There we were, knees drawn to our chests, heads down, both of us crying into our folded arms.

A Light in the Chaos…

After just a few minutes like this, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

When I looked up, I saw the face of a stranger. This lady had apparently seen us in our distress, made her way over to us, and taken the time and braved the crowd to intervene. Her words to me were simple:

“I’m a mom, too. It’s hard. I know. Can I pray with you?”

Something in me shifted then and there. This person I’d never even met disrupted the spiritual storm raging inside me. I choked out a yes, put my head down, and gratefully soaked in every word of that prayer, sent up by a stranger on my behalf.

As much as I wish I did, I simply don’t recall the words of her prayer. It’s something I wish I could write down and remember forever.  But my mind was a fog of exhaustion and emotion.

All I could do was breathe, and every time the kind lady said the name “Jesus” my heart eased, my breath came more freely, and my shoulders lowered.

I felt my little boy shudder as his tears subsided, felt his breathing even and slow beside me, and I eased up on my grip of his hand.

At amen, she kissed the top of my bowed head. I tried to squeak out “thank you,” my throat still tight. When I looked up, my eyes still blurry with tears, I saw only her back as she walked away, melting back into the crowd moving along –a sea of people making their way to their next happy Disney moment.

I looked over at my boy. I kissed him on top of his head. I said “Buddy, I’m so sorry.” We hugged and sat together in silence, awash in relief and wonder.

A Stranger’s Gift…

In just a couple of moments, a kind stranger had handed me a treasured gift that not only blessed me then but also lives on and continues to bless me and guide me today.

In that critical moment, when I was prepared to give up on myself once again and willing to accept the lie that I couldn’t do this, she did something for me that I think we can all do for one another if we’re willing

  • She interrupted my isolation. Her hand on my shoulder awoke me to the reality that a world existed outside my pain and confusion.
  • She spoke words of acceptance. “It’s hard. I know.” It wasn’t until later that day that the enemy of my soul sensed what was up, that freedom was stirring, and condemnation once again tried to regain the upper hand. I questioned my own recall of the moment with the kind stranger and began to over analyze.

She didn’t even know that it was all my fault. I demanded too much, insisted on my way, and created a terrible scene, probably scarring my child for life.

If she would have known THAT, she wouldn’t have been so kind.

But the longer I thought about it, the more important it seemed that she hadn’t asked.

She didn’t ask to know the details. She wasn’t interested in acting as judge or jury.

And because her judgment did not keep her away from me, she offered the best gift of all:

  • She pointed my eyes to Jesus.

She didn’t just give me her acceptance. She brought me to Jesus and reminded me of his acceptance. Her prayer pulled the love of Jesus down around me and held it there. She had grace to give, saw someone who needed it, and freely gave.

Almost as important as what she did give was what she didn’t.

  • She didn’t give me advice.
  • She didn’t make suggestions.
  • She didn’t try to distract me from my troubles by telling me about this one time when her kids were young . . .

The kind stranger’s interaction with me that day was zero percent condemnation and one hundred percent unconditional acceptance and grace.

I wish I could say I learned a few things about parenting that day and never again engaged in a senseless battle or lost my temper or drew the wrong line in the sand. But a few moments of foolishness (or more) come to mind that prove otherwise.

What I did learn that day was who I want to be in this world, and who Christ and his gospel compel me to be . . .

A Vessel For Grace…

It’s what every heart needs, and I believe it is what every mother needs in extra measure. Not just in the early days of her motherhood journey, but all along the way.

Like the kind stranger who reached out to me in my lonely, shame filled corner outside Pizza Planet:

Could we . . .

  • Destroy the lie of isolation? Could we come around one another, offering our confessions of “I know” and “It’s hard,” and breathing with relief to realize we don’t carry this weight alone?
  • Could we forget to judge, ignore the urge to give unsolicited advice, resist the desire to “one up” and compare by turning someone else’s struggle into a backdrop for our own dramas?
  • Could we point one another to Jesus, whisper his name into one another’s ears, believing in his authority over our lives and the power of the promises he has made to us? Could we share our faith with one another and remind each other of the truth that we already possess his acceptance?

Sometimes I think of the kind stranger who dared to offer her prayer to my child and I on that hot summer day. I wonder what experience she had along the way that emboldened her to share her grace with me. I imagine all the other kind ones who might have huddled over her in her own times of doubt and pointed her to Jesus.

And I am grateful.

This Mother’s Day let us truly celebrate motherhood. Rather than allowing our trumped-up expectations to lead us into doubt and fear, let’s huddle up alongside the mothers nearby and remind them of their worth and their place with Jesus.

 

Briana McDonough
“I’m a wife, mommy, teacher, writer, reader, and child of God.”

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Don’t Go It Alone

I sat in a men’s meeting last week, and as we were taking prayer requests, I realized that all of us have a lot going on in our lives. I had selfishly been thinking about me and all that I had going on. But as I sat there and listened to these men share what they were feeling and facing in different situations, I was reminded that everyone is facing something that could either make them or break them. When this simple thought dawned on me, I felt encouraged, but also challenged.

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