My prayer life is average at best. I pray daily, but it's not a significantly meaningful experience. I spend more time writing emails or scribing little notes to my boyfriend than I do in prayer.
I wish that wasn't true.
But that can change.
This morning, I interviewed a man who would literally pause our conversation to pray. Sometimes I wouldn't know if he was talking to me or the Lord. Maybe both at times. But he would apologize to God during a prayer to ask me a question, or ask me to pause so he could pray for God to guide his next answer.
It was like nothing I had ever experienced. It was a life totally focused on the fact that we were created to glorify and worship a holy God and for him to know us and for us to know him. That only comes through prayer. And I've known strong prayer warriors in my life. But Colin was like no one else I had ever met.
He was so in tune with Christ, so aware of what the Lord was telling him. It was unreal. Where I am always hesitant to even ask for something because I'm scared of the word "no," Colin treats Jesus like they're best friends. And, frankly, they probably are. How could you not be when you spoke that often?
It's mind blowing.
And I want it.
What if we all lived like that? Not just an emphasis on prayer, but totally revolved our minds and hearts around the idea that we are in constant communication with Christ? What would that even look like?
Insane. Totally abnormal. In a world that moves too fast, cares too little about others, and focuses too much on ourselves, a switch to constantly and fearlessly communicating with someone who may not respond quickly or with what we want is less than ideal.
But I've found that the waiting is an answer, and the more you try to listen, the more you hear. I am confident that this is a life that I want. To be closer with Christ in a way that I've only ever heard about but never seen firsthand. Prayer is vital to knowing the Creator. And knowing him brings me closer to him, and being closer to him helps me reflect him.
And that's what we were made for.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Monday, June 8, 2015
Finding something to lean on
Great news, everyone: Keurig's are remarkably easy to use, and I have only spilled coffee out of my travel cup once in the last three weeks. I would say that's a pretty good track record.
And while mornings are still the worst, I'm quickly learning the value of getting up and getting the day started. That's not to say that I even remotely like mornings, but they aren't the blindingly miserable experiences I held them to be in my undergrad years.
Because I'm just so far past those four years. Right.
The wear and tear of waking up early, not living with my best friends, my boyfriend being across the ocean, and my body's recent requirement of going to bed at ten have sharply reminded me that my physical, emotional, and spiritual needs were wrapped up in my circumstances.
College Station, as wonderful as it is, was a nicely packaged deal for me where I was taken care of and people were always available and no one was more than 5 minutes away (three of the most important ones either shared a room or a house with me). But that is a rarity. Something that I absolutely took for granted, and will inevitably take for granted again when I move back in the fall.
My reliance on Rachel, Myles, Joy, and Hayden was never more keenly felt than when they were in Austin, Mexico, New York, and Greece. Myles is the only one I'll be able to see somewhat often this summer--and we're still a 30 minute drive from each other.
And I know that this time is a teaching one. I am prone to being swayed and moved, my steps unsteady and my balance off. I've never been confident in my ability to stand on my own two feet, but the beauty of the unsteadiness is that I don't have to stand alone.
Leaning more into the Lord is the only option. And while I could wish all day for me to be able to do this summer, this next year, this next lifetime only relying on my own abilities, I know that isn't plausible. So it's with a good dose of humility that I accept the hand reached out to me, and go from there.
And while mornings are still the worst, I'm quickly learning the value of getting up and getting the day started. That's not to say that I even remotely like mornings, but they aren't the blindingly miserable experiences I held them to be in my undergrad years.
Because I'm just so far past those four years. Right.
The wear and tear of waking up early, not living with my best friends, my boyfriend being across the ocean, and my body's recent requirement of going to bed at ten have sharply reminded me that my physical, emotional, and spiritual needs were wrapped up in my circumstances.
College Station, as wonderful as it is, was a nicely packaged deal for me where I was taken care of and people were always available and no one was more than 5 minutes away (three of the most important ones either shared a room or a house with me). But that is a rarity. Something that I absolutely took for granted, and will inevitably take for granted again when I move back in the fall.
My reliance on Rachel, Myles, Joy, and Hayden was never more keenly felt than when they were in Austin, Mexico, New York, and Greece. Myles is the only one I'll be able to see somewhat often this summer--and we're still a 30 minute drive from each other.
And I know that this time is a teaching one. I am prone to being swayed and moved, my steps unsteady and my balance off. I've never been confident in my ability to stand on my own two feet, but the beauty of the unsteadiness is that I don't have to stand alone.
Leaning more into the Lord is the only option. And while I could wish all day for me to be able to do this summer, this next year, this next lifetime only relying on my own abilities, I know that isn't plausible. So it's with a good dose of humility that I accept the hand reached out to me, and go from there.
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