I’ve prayed hard prayers for years and when the ground scratches dry under my feet and the dust of bitter emptiness swirls thick, some days I think I might just give up.
I know He’s always listening but when the months span and the years stretch out too long and the silence deafens, my humanness snarks that He’s not going to budge. The hiss that condemns, whips me with antiChrist words–“your prayers fall on deaf ears”.
Sylvia Plath said “I talk to God but the sky is empty” and on my worst days, I almost swallow this lie. But my heart, cracked up as it is, knows better than to subscribe to hopelessness. I tuck His truths in deep and they sustain me over the long desert of waiting.
Then, without warning, I hear thunder in the distance. It’s just a handful of words–a banner of hope strung up, flapping in the wind. It’s an unexpected phone call, a precious letter that I didn’t see coming–lightning rips through the heavens and one overwhelming droplet the size of a monsoon lands in my mailbox.
I want to measure its’ impact and set my rain guage out to determine if it’s enough, but who can measure the magnitude of answered prayers?
It’s not the deluge I’m praying for but it’s more than enough, because that’s what it always is when it slips down from heaven. Heaven and earth split for one moment and this one drip nourishes the prayers I’d nearly stopped praying. He reminds me, “never give up on Me”.
His word is good and unfailing–He moves in His time and not to the impatient time table of my own over-eager clock, He can be trusted with our hearts–I’m learning this anew daily.
The sky is anything but empty–I know this as I read and re-read the words printed there in black and white.
We pray because in praying there’s hope. We look for the unseen and trust that He not only hears but answers according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19).
He knows what you need.
The sky bulges with answers yet to come. Prayers begin to roll out of my heart–marbles let loose from a bag.