Healing



"I'm waiting on God for healing. Don't you do that?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. There was hesitation in her eyes after I answered.

So I'm sitting here thinking about healing and waiting and what we mean when we say such things. I realise I have never thought I needed healing. I don't have a serious illness, and I assume that's what healing is for. I pray for people with pain or with cancer, for friends after accidents and babies with congenital problems. And I prayed for this questioner, today.

Are the medications and therapies we give her the answers to my prayer (and hers)? Is it what she is waiting for? Would it be more obviously the work of God if it seemed more impossible or miraculous? Is waiting on God an active or a passive process?

We each speak a language of faith, and the words can be vague. There are a range of dialects. Because I understand her words in my own way, I cannot meet her with clarity. I cannot answer in a way that engenders trust. I became just another doctor whose faith is suspicious and doubting about the glorious, miraculous healing of God. I really want to taste her uncompromising hope, and I fear that I have bound God into my own rational, scientific paradigm. Have I forgotten that His possibility and scope far transcend my conception of Him?

But I want her to take her medication, because she has been crippled, imprisoned and gagged without it. I am responsible to engage her in this treatment and not give her a reason to doubt it. Then I find myself with deeper ties to her than I had supposed. She is my sister, and that counts. It matters if she thinks I'm her sister, too.

There is another quiet question in the room... Is she the one who sees God clearly? Is her psychosis actually ecstatic communion with God?

I know that Jesus healed a psychotic man and his mind became clear. This tells me clarity is better than psychosis. But are religious delusions really delusions or are they just a breaking through of an intense, consuming meeting with God into someone's life? If Peter described the transfiguration to me in a moment of excitement, would I think he had been hallucinating and that he was unwell?

I need to wrestle with these questions. I need to know that God is working in the rational and explainable and that he also labours in the mysterious and transcendent. Paradoxically, I can trust in medication that is the work of human hands and therapy guided by human minds, while also putting my faith in the inexplicable divine touch to bring healing.

In the midst of madness or surrounded by sanity, Jesus is present and is not overwhelmed. He knows and understands, even if I am still puzzled.

What do you think?

Learning to pray

There are times when the muscles in my throat grip. I am conscious of my scalp stretching tight across my skull and skipping thoughts get stuck to the knees in molasses.

But it happens when I read inspiring books. Or when I hear about church growth strategies. Or consider living out an authentic faith. That's right - it scares me. Deeply.

I get deep-in-my-core anxious. I hear an honest challenge to give more of myself and risk more in an attempt to love and serve people I don't yet know. And as I hear it, I briefly contemplate shutting my ears, ignoring the challenge.

Because I'm sure I can't do it. I don't know how, and I'm puzzled about where to begin. I prefigure failure as I play possibilities in my mind.

And often I don't want to go to all that trouble. What if I put myself into this sacrificial life and it doesn't work? Or its ignored?

Do you get that fluttering-bird fear, trapped in your ribcage, that you just can't do the stuff required to be a proper God-follower? That the mission that defines us is too hard? I am enthralled by a vision of the cross-bearing, Jesus-following life but I struggle to see myself in that vision - I feel too prosaic, too clumsy, too selfish to inhabit such a view. Truth is, I am. I cannot live out a life of righteousness, of sacrifice, of Jesus-shaped cross-carrying proportions on my own.

Being helpless, anxious, restless, I pray. Slowly I am learning that this is where I need to be. That God has been patiently waiting for me to ask him for help here and not just try to manage things myself.

Relieved, I pray. My humanity wishes for a more capable response but the Spirit in me sighs and groans. Let the Spirit speak.

'This is too hard, but you are the God who can do what the law cannot. I am overwhelmed but you are not. I feel helpless, but you do not. I fear failure, but you do not. You are the God who makes possibilities and opportunities and rescues my weakness. Show me what I can do today to follow Jesus.'

You can pray this prayer for anxieties, too.

Imagine a world, where we are not ruled by fear or by hopelessness, or even by the need to not fail. Where we can give grace, out of the riches of grace and comfort we receive. Where daily we pray and daily we follow.

Today's thoughts, which challenged me (that is, made me anxious), that called me to pray,


"In the incarnation, God enters fully into close relational and physical proximity to humanity in the pursuit of reconciliation. Likewise, if exiles today are to model their lives and ministries on that of the exile Jesus, they must take a stance that promotes proximity between themselves and those among whom they live……
……Christians must be prepared to go where Christ would go: to the poor, to the marginalized, to the places of suffering. They must be prepared to die to self in order to follow Jesus’ radical lifestyle of self-giving and sacrifice……
……To embrace an incarnational ministry, then, involves a willingness to relinquish our own desires and interests in the service of others. Of course, our suffering doesn’t atone for the sins of others, as Christ’s did, but our self-emptying or sacrificial love will direct people to the higher and more efficacious sacrifice of Christ…
…Pity, condescension, or paternalism misses the mark; only a compassion that acts is acceptable in incarnational ministry……
……So, if we take the incarnation seriously, we must take seriously the call to live incarnationally – right up close, near to those whom God desires to redeem. We cannot demonstrate Christ-likeness at a distance from those whom we feel called to serve. We need to get close enough to people that our lives rub up against their lives, and that they see the incarnated Christ in our values, beliefs, and practices as expressed in cultural forms that make sense and convey impact."
Michael Frost
(from Exiles: Living Missionally in Post-Christian Culture)

linking with Ann and Emily today.

I'm facing backwards as I ride. The train swings and I see clouds layered thousand-fold. It's the vastness of it all that grabs me. My bag is draped across my legs, full of 'maybe I'll need that today'.

And the God who layers clouds listens to my prayers. Mumbled, halting, inept prayers. Some forgotten in the midst. I am thankful that it doesn't rest on my shoulders to make it right.

I puzzle at the vastness (layered clouds) alongside the small (a little more breath, or a steady hand). He manages both, and does them carefully.

And I realise that we expect it will be the earthshaking, lifechanging events that will destroy us. But somehow we survive and we go on. We keep it together. Then the little incidental undoes us. A child's hand slipped in ours, a breath that faintly wheezes - the reality of that one moment brings a deep flash of emotion. Sadness that breaks us.And we can let it slip past barely noticed.

Or it can be the window to our very hearts. Sometimes a glimpse is all we can bear.

God has no such pretense. He does not need to mask his pain, nor his joy. He can bear it. He can layer clouds and soothe a breath.

Rain and Prayer

We went camping and I wondered about prayer.

Raindrops fell as we unhooked the trailer, unfolded the tent and unrolled the sleeping bags. Puddles rose and we huddled under umbrellas. My ears were stuffed full of the drum of rain on the tarpaulin roof. And we slept.

The children rode their bikes and played races and went on fish hunts. They walked through wet bush, fell in the mud, and laughed. All the clothes got wet and though they hung in the air all day, they stayed wet. Some of the tents leaked. Some of the umbrellas broke. And we got wet.

Did I pray for the rain to stop?

Regardless of whether I did or not, the rain cleared and we sat outside in the late afternoon. We talked together and laughed. The children kept playing and we marvelled at a tiny patch of blue sky. We hoped into it.

It disappeared with the light and we couldn't see the closest moon in twenty years. That was my biggest disappointment. We soothed the children to sleep in scattered tents, then gathered round a fold-out table. Rain pelted over our heads and we sat cosy. Enjoyed a game and some chocolate, then wandered off to bed.

I want to call the rain that night, a deluge. Perhaps it qualified, but who could really know. Canvas filled up with water and overflowed and I stood pyjama-soaked to pull it down. Silent dark tents silhouetted. Rain gusting and sheeting. It was so absurd that I did not wish the moment gone.

I wondered about prayer because I couldn't bring myself to pray the rain away. It felt like a convenience prayer. A prayer to "give me a carpark now, Lord".

Was there reason behind that rain? Did it rescue someone or cleanse something or bring life that was needed? Had someone else prayed fervently for it to fall? Or was it the result of recent cloud and pressure movements in the sky? Did I need that rain, although I never would have asked for it? Will it make me more of what I'm meant to be? If I let it?

So many of my prayers could be "Please don't let it rain, Lord." But what will I miss if those prayers are answered?

I smiled as I read today. He has a sense of humour.

Be glad, people of Zion, rejoice in the LORD your God,

for he has given you the autumn rains because he is faithful.

He sends you abundant showers, both autumn and spring rains, as before.

Joel 2:23.

Both the rainbow and the rain point to his faithfulness.

And I know that other prayers are desperate, that we need answers and solutions because we are not enough and cannot survive. We need his rescue, but do we need it from all the circumstances of life? The rain reminds me he is faithful. And I know that sometimes I am praying for convenience, not rescue.

O God, I beg two favors from you;

let me have them before I die.

First, help me never to tell a lie.

Second, give me neither poverty nor riches!

Give me just enough to satisfy my needs.

For if I grow rich, I may deny you and say, “Who is the Lord?”

And if I am too poor, I may steal and thus insult God’s holy name.

Proverbs 30:7-9

The prayers I need to pray to parent

They are so simple, yet I just keep losing track. This is my reminder for today...

Pray for wisdom
Pray for patience
Pray for love
Give thanks for each and all of them
Pray for them to grow, in all ways
Pray for forgiveness for all the times I am not enough
Pray that they will learn grace from my not being enough
Pray that they will find God enough

What else do you pray? (Yes, I really do want to know...)

Character

What does it mean to have character? Perhaps it's doing the right thing even when no-one is looking. Perhaps it's choosing the option that not many people would choose. Maybe it's picking yourself up from the ground, sweaty and dirt-smeared, and stumbling on to complete what you set out to do.

I've been prompted to think about this while listening to a series by Andy Stanley (Character Under Construction), which was recommended to me.

One of the pitfalls of preaching (as reported to me by those who practice the art) is reaching the culmination of your message and your listeners being left with the words "Just try harder." It's a message that's been employed by pharisees and all sorts of religious types over the centuries. It feeds guilt and creates enslavement to the law.

But isn't that what we need to pursue to have character? Be a better person. Try to be good. Do the right thing. Often that's how we pray - 'God help me to be a better me...'. I have prayed, 'God help me be more patient', through gritted teeth (which somehow ruins my 'patient' face).

I struggle with the idea that faith is about 'just try harder'. I don't think it works. Being a better me is puny and half-baked when compared with the inspiring call to be renewed in the image of Jesus.

A pastor I know, keeps reminding me that we will only really follow God and be Christ-like when we truly understand God's love for us. Guilt can't transform our hearts. But deep infiltration with sacrificial, inviting, cleansing love changes us forever.

Character grows when we are soaked in God's love.

How does it work? John talks about the branches abiding in the vine and fruit resulting (John 15). Romans talks about our minds being renewed and this leading to transformation (Romans 12).

When I know I am graciously and abundantly loved, I can see the world how God sees it. Sometimes its only momentary glances, but in those instants I have the eyes that really see. The basis of true wisdom. When I have God's vision of the world, of people around me, it becomes possible to act with grace. To see beyond myself and my needs. To see sacrifice as possible. To see purpose in serving and submitting. Then I can allow Jesus to love through me.

'Better-me' love is pale and wan compared with Jesus-shaped love.

Stanley teaches a simple prayer as part of his series of sermons. I admit I have made it a little more to my liking :).

God,

renew me with your love, 

so I can have the wisdom to know what's right,

and the courage to do what's right.

And I have started praying it.

A call to pray

What is it like to leave your home and make a new one? To travel to a new continent so that God can use you to bless other people?

Yesterday we listened to a family who shared their experience of cross-cultural mission work, in southern Africa. Stories of being evacuated by plane with a sick child, and being attacked at home. Seeing people suffering in ways that I cannot readily picture because of my easy access to healthcare and resources. I can imagine thinking 'What is going on? Why are we here?'

But Jonno didn't stop there. He told us stories filled with hope. People healed after prayer. He reminded us of John the Baptist, having seen the anointed, baptised Christ, still needing reassurance when he languished in prison. The messenger who prepared the Messiah's way still needed to hear the good news, to be refreshed...

Jesus told them, “Go back to John and tell him what you have heard and seen—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’ Matthew 11:4-6.

No matter where we live, people struggle, life can be hard. When we feel torn apart, abandoned, rejected or broken, it can be the hardest time to remember who Jesus is. Trusting God can be clinging on to a rocky outcrop with fingernails jagged and bleeding.

Jonno and Heather and their kids live among a marginalised, poor group of people. These people come to Jonno and ask him to pray when they are in need. They seek his prayer instead of going to the Moslem leaders in their villages. Prayer has resulted in miracles and people meeting Jesus. It is challenging that these people seek prayer with the same unquestioning faith that leads us to seek medical attention for sickness.

Check out Global Interaction 

Again and again, I hear God saying, "You are not helpless. You can pray."

My cousin dies, leaving a son not yet ten years old. They don't live close, I wish and wonder ways to help. There is not much that I can give to bless this boy, to care for my aunt, her children and grand-children. But I can pray.

Thanks today for,

961.  prayer
962.  people who pray persistently
963.  prayer answered with miracles
964.  a glimpse of life in Africa
965.  Jonno and Heather and their family
966.  church family meals
967.  encouraging conversation
968.  people asking for prayer
969.  a God who listens, hears and acts
970.  the mystery of answers to prayers
971.  needing to pray

Listening to God.

I liked this post by Lynne Baab, guest-posting on Godspace, that I came across the other day. I love the idea of lying in bed each morning when I wake giving time to prayer and listening to the things God might be wanting me to do. I rush out of bed most mornings my head still fuzzy and my eyes not quite open.

Sometimes I pray, first thing, but it is usually in the shower or as I spoon weet-bix into baby's mouth. My listening is to wishes expressed about sandwich toppings, and a little boy hunting for his favourite Lightning McQueen T-shirt.

There is a balance in discerning God's will. We can become so focussed on being right about it that we never get going. And then we can put it so far to the periphery that we can feel, 'as long as I'm not doing the wrong thing, it's "all good"'. The dialectic between waiting and rushing in, I suppose.

God's word and God's people really do need to shape our discernment of what God wants for us, otherwise we can go off on weird tangents. Romans 12 talks about being able to 'discern God's good, pleasing and perfect will'. The passage ties that discernment to living sacrificially and having sober judgement about ourselves. It is not going to happen easily if we are focussed on our own needs to the exclusion of others or if we are proud or arrogant. God's will becomes clearer when we can see beyond ourselves, when we give time, energy, thought and love to others.

Listening to a talk by the Dean of St Andrews Cathedral, I was struck by a comment in his reflection on 1 Corinthians 12. He spoke of the spiritual gifts finding purpose in serving the body, the church. He spoke about arrogance, when we feel we don't need other members of the body. He pointed to the cure for arrogance - serving others. We actually deeply need others at the exact moment when we disdain them. We need them to provide a place to serve, to learn again humble, sober assessment of ourselves. To have Jesus example in Philippians 2 and start to imitate it.

Discernment of God's will becomes clearer as we serve others, and as we prayerfully search for ways to do it. That's why a good day begins with prayer.

 And so, dear brothers and sisters, I plead with you to give your bodies to God because of all he has done for you. Let them be a living and holy sacrifice—the kind he will find acceptable. This is truly the way to worship him. Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.

 Because of the privilege and authority God has given me, I give each of you this warning: Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us. Just as our bodies have many parts and each part has a special function,  so it is with Christ’s body. We are many parts of one body, and we all belong to each other. Romans 12:1-5.

Faded and neglected

Walking home this afternoon, I noticed how overgrown our local creek is. It is completely obscured by weeds which are flourishing this spring. The parts where the water is visible are filled with rubbish (our kids have previously counted four discarded shopping trolleys, an old bike and a plastic rocking horse, not to mention general refuse).

Everything I looked at seemed to be overgrown, uncared for or just faded. I was momentarily overcome by decrepitude. It was reality breaking through my rose-coloured glasses.

I like where I live, and appreciate its green semi-ruralness. I am surprised how easily I can block out ugliness and neglect. There are just brief times when I see clearly. When I realise that there is so much that I could be doing to improve life.

There are two things that I can do in response to this. Too often I do the first - feel overwhelmed and paralysed and not change anything. The second is to pray, because I feel helpless.

I need to pray more for this place. The neglected landscape reflects the neglected, lost people.

Feeling helpless...

Around me, things go wrong that I cannot fix. My friend's father dies during a time when my friend and his wife are already dealing with significant loss in their lives. Someone in our community struggles with finding out their son has been sexually abused. Sick people cannot manage to live the lives they would like to, and labour under constant, chronic pain.

I wonder why some people carry such heavy burdens. Why others can seem blessed in every aspect of their lives. I cannot frame an answer that truly satisfies.

I pray irregularly and unsystematically about these things. I am so human in my lack of faith, lack of compassion and lack of perserverence. Even though I feel helpless to change things, I still cling desperately to thoughts of what I can do.

I long for a day when helplessness and sadness about the state of the world drive me desperately to prayer.

Help me Lord, to remember that you are here.

Help me see you as you weep with the hurting.

Help me ask you to change things and to bring your kingdom.

Help me to trust you.

Help me to accept my own helplessness and let you work through me.

Help me to believe that you are powerful to help.

My current dialectic -

"I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief." Mark 9:24