Monday, January 14, 2008

Weak of prayer, part 1: Adoration

This morning I was remembering that I introduced this blog promising "ranting, panting and praying." I think I'm delivering the first two, but the prayers seem stuck in the dead letter office, unless you count questions as abstract silent prayers. Sadly, this reflects the current reality of my prayer life: weak.

This week I'll spend a day on each of the four sections of the
ACTS prayer: adoration, confession, thanksgiving and supplication--largely from a dad's eye view. Maybe that'll help me do the Philippians 4:6 thing, shaping worries into prayers.

Day 1 - Adoration

God, you are Creator. You make soul-size miracles that begin microscopically. And then you became one.

You are creative too, finding ways to make even the craziest situations beautiful.

You are Peace-giver, even when nothing about a situation is peaceful. Your peace is offered even when I fail to receive it.

You are daring, scandalously trusting of my frail flesh to raise three of your own angels. You respect me, expect the best of me even when I don't see it. You hand me the tools and let me make a mess of things when you know you could do it better yourself, because you care more about me than what I accomplish.

You are Love, and you speak love to me in ways I never thought I had space for. You kept trying, and now you speak it through my daughters.

You are patient, willing to wait for your kids to come around, to pass through this phase, loving me as much in the midst of my tantrum as you do when I'm snuggled up close, absorbing your story.

You are humble, wiping up my most disgusting spills, my soiled clothes, the blood and tears that are your payment as Father, and your gift to me as son.

You are gentle, drawing me "with cords of human kindness, ties of love" when you have every right to play the "I'm your Daddy" card and shove me into line.

You are forgetful, mercies new every morning, giving me a chance to be seen as the kid of your dreams every day, and inviting me to see myself that way too.

You are Rest-giver, an oasis in the parenting perfectionism desert, a weekend getaway from all my stumbling labor.

You are Wisdom, uncommon sense with courage to live beyond my self-defending, interest-protecting prudence.

You are Power made perfect in my abundant weakness.

Again and again, God, You are Love--unconditional, unbelievable, unstoppable Love.

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