with difficult people and impossible relationships. We ask for protection from tornadoes, earthquakes and other natural disasters that threaten to destroy homes and entire personal histories. We beg for healing from multiple sclerosis, addictions and other “incurables.” We plead for peace between parents, for peace in the Middle East, and for HIV orphans in Africa. We pray for simple blessings on our lives and homes, blessings on bread and wine, on babies, new beginnings and dreams.
Every day and in many ways (on our knees, in our cars, in bed at night) we pray for God’s active help and pres- ence in our lives. But through all of our praying, pleading, beseeching and begging, it’s easy to miss that perhaps a greater miracle is taking place. Is it possible that through prayer, God is doing a creative work in us?
Mary’s miracle Mary was eager to share a Mother’s Day walk with her family. It was her only request for the day: to share the beauty of her newly discovered running path with her husband and three kids. But when they woke up early that morning, ominous storm clouds hovered on the horizon. “It was 8 a.m. and I ran around the house shouting for
everyone to get dressed,” she said. “I figured if everyone hurried, we could get our two-mile walk in before getting doused. But by the time we finally hit our walking path I was feeling bent out of shape, angry, frustrated. I prayed, ‘Please, God, hold back the rain. With my crazy work schedule we don’t get many special days together and I want to enjoy this.’ ”
As Mary prayed, she noticed her breathing relax, her jaw unclench and something in her “let go.” “Prayer shifted my need to control everything, and I
entered into the moment in a new way. I soaked up the laughter of my husband and kids as they spotted an otter, tracked deer through the woods, threw rocks in the pond and listened to woodpeckers tapping on trees. When the rain held off, splattering big drops on my face only moments before we returned to the driveway, I prayed again, ‘Thank you, God, for holding off the rain. But thank you even more for lifting my worries and allowing a miracle in me.’ ”
The creative work of Christ How beautiful it is that through prayer, God takes our expressions of worry, despair, anger and fear and, like a poem, crafts them so carefully and creatively, giving them meter and meaning. Ephesians 2:10 suggests we are God’s “workmanship” created in Christ Jesus. The Greek word for workmanship (poiema) translates some- what awkwardly but beautifully as poem, from which we
derive our English word. “We are God’s poem, created in Christ Jesus to do good works.” Jesus Christ, “The Word”—the same Word that was “in the beginning,” continues to hover over our lives today with boundless artistic possibility as a poet, sculp- tor, writer, painter, artist-friend. The text of 2 Corinthians 5:17 refers to anyone in Christ as a “new creation: every- thing old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” Isaiah 64:8 reminds us: “We are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of [God’s] hand.” These Scriptures (among many) point to the truth that through Christ God remains at work in us, creatively. We approach God with our frustrations, sticky situations, fix-it-please requests, and legitimate anger about suffer- ing, oppression and injustice—all the while our Creator is shaping, creating, writing, sculpting and painting more than just the people and circumstances we pray about. A person prays, said Augustine, “that he himself may be constructed, not that God may be instructed.”
Construct me please! When the lame man (Mark 2:1-12) heard there was a miracle worker in town, perhaps his heart jumped with all the strength that had failed his paralyzed body for years. Maybe he dared to dream again that he could work in the fields, chase after his children, hold his wife. If only he could find opportunity to talk to this rabbi. Tell him exactly what had happened to him. Tell Jesus about his needs.
Knowing his desire to talk with Jesus face to face, his friends picked up his stretcher-mat and carried him to the home where Jesus was teaching. The crowds pressed in on all sides of the small building, forcing the man’s friends to get creative. They dug a hole in the roof and used ropes to lower his mat to the feet of Jesus. Jesus looked at the bold man with compassion, seem- ingly aware of his exact need. Then he stooped down, touched the man’s shoulder, and said, “My son, your sins are forgiven” (verse 5). Imagine the man’s awkward sur- prise. Forgiven? Whenever we come to God with our list of needed
“fixes,” we are given far more than we came to get. Sometimes we catch glimpses of greater spiritual reali- ties, receiving words of healing we didn’t even know we needed. Sometimes our worries are lifted, or our vision cleared. As we approach the throne of grace, we can trust that Christ is always answering our divine conversations with brushstrokes of mercy, forgiveness, grace and love. And, as author Philip Yancey says, that in and of itself may be the most significant purpose of prayer: “To let our true selves be loved by God.”
October 2011 17
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