do not be afraid any longer, only believe
I always feel bad when people I pray for don't get better if they are sick. Or whatever I'm requesting in prayer doesn't happen. Like I've failed somehow. But the reality is, we give the prayers over to Jesus, we lay them at His feet. It's His call and no matter what, I trust Him. I'm just the conduit.
There are a handful of people I feel led to pray for, who God leads me to pray for very specifically. There was a time when I would have said I was "called" to pray for, but I think we are all called to pray. And there was a time I would have referred to myself as an intercessor, or even a personal intercessor. I don't that much anymore. I don't really want any identity other than Christ. He's the intercessor, and we are all called to pray.
But He does burden me to pray. I used to feel safe sharing almost everything He gives me in prayer. But I am more cautious now. I don't share so much. If we really believe in the power of prayer, if this communication is really between us and Him, there isn't much that needs to be said about it. Sometimes He gives confirmation and encouraging words through prayer. I share them if He shows me they will be heard. Sometimes I just don't know, so I don't share. It would be like casting pearls before swine. I treasure what He shares with me, I ponder it. It's a gift. I don't want to share it with others who won't treat it the same. It means that much to me.
"B" is one of our artists at Imagine Art. We are cautiously becoming friends. He is amazing and inspires me. He struggles with physical disability and some mental illness. He built out the kitchen in the Austin House of Prayer with little help. He teaches art in the projects where he lives to children. He is gruff and reminds me of my german Grandma Frahm at times. He is always right and very punctual. Soon I'm going to help him make ornaments with the kids in his apartment complex.
Today he brought me mums from his garden, that he had roughly pulled out of the ground. I could picture him doing just that. I saw him holding the flowers in our office, wondering what he was doing. "These are for you," he said, then left. "Thank you," I say but he is already gone.
I put them on my desk, next to the card another artist made me. I had asked him to make me a thank you card for someone who helped us. Instead he made me a thank you card, confused. His handwriting is shaky, like a child's. "Thank you for your touch, the touch that makes everything beautiful." A little over the top, but it means a lot to me. It has kept me going on days I have wanted to just stop.
We all have mountains in front of us everyday. Do we have the faith to believe God can move them? Do we believe God is hearing and using our prayers? Are we listening for and believing the answer when it comes?
“While He was still speaking, they came from the house of the synagogue official, saying, ‘Your daughter has died; why trouble the Teacher anymore?’
But Jesus, overhearing what was being spoken, said to the synagogue official, ‘Do not be afraid any longer, only believe.’ ” Mark 5:35-36
There are a handful of people I feel led to pray for, who God leads me to pray for very specifically. There was a time when I would have said I was "called" to pray for, but I think we are all called to pray. And there was a time I would have referred to myself as an intercessor, or even a personal intercessor. I don't that much anymore. I don't really want any identity other than Christ. He's the intercessor, and we are all called to pray.
But He does burden me to pray. I used to feel safe sharing almost everything He gives me in prayer. But I am more cautious now. I don't share so much. If we really believe in the power of prayer, if this communication is really between us and Him, there isn't much that needs to be said about it. Sometimes He gives confirmation and encouraging words through prayer. I share them if He shows me they will be heard. Sometimes I just don't know, so I don't share. It would be like casting pearls before swine. I treasure what He shares with me, I ponder it. It's a gift. I don't want to share it with others who won't treat it the same. It means that much to me.
"B" is one of our artists at Imagine Art. We are cautiously becoming friends. He is amazing and inspires me. He struggles with physical disability and some mental illness. He built out the kitchen in the Austin House of Prayer with little help. He teaches art in the projects where he lives to children. He is gruff and reminds me of my german Grandma Frahm at times. He is always right and very punctual. Soon I'm going to help him make ornaments with the kids in his apartment complex.
Today he brought me mums from his garden, that he had roughly pulled out of the ground. I could picture him doing just that. I saw him holding the flowers in our office, wondering what he was doing. "These are for you," he said, then left. "Thank you," I say but he is already gone.
I put them on my desk, next to the card another artist made me. I had asked him to make me a thank you card for someone who helped us. Instead he made me a thank you card, confused. His handwriting is shaky, like a child's. "Thank you for your touch, the touch that makes everything beautiful." A little over the top, but it means a lot to me. It has kept me going on days I have wanted to just stop.
We all have mountains in front of us everyday. Do we have the faith to believe God can move them? Do we believe God is hearing and using our prayers? Are we listening for and believing the answer when it comes?
“While He was still speaking, they came from the house of the synagogue official, saying, ‘Your daughter has died; why trouble the Teacher anymore?’
But Jesus, overhearing what was being spoken, said to the synagogue official, ‘Do not be afraid any longer, only believe.’ ” Mark 5:35-36