Lord, you are good and I am confused.
Most of the time.
Maybe almost all of the time.
You love me.
And I love you, but mostly when I feel good.
You are filled to the brim with wonder.
So am I.
You are creative.
So am I.
You choose people.
Like Israel.
You choose people.
Like me.
Make me more like you today.
I love you.
Your friend,
TY
A friend of mine was praying. While he prayed, the word “marriage” came to him again and again. “But I am already married, Lord,” my friend said aloud. “What does this mean?” He continued to pray and then he heard a name come from God. He thought he must tell this person, but before he did, he prayed for two weeks to make sure he had heard correctly.
My friend came up to me in church. I had not seen him in a while.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said. “Something I heard from God.”
I was intrigued and admittedly a little nervous. I thought perhaps God wanted something big from me; to move to another country or become a missionary.
“God told me that you will be married,” my friend said to me.
I smiled and blinked as I stared blanky.
I have thought so many things since that moment. I’ve asked my friend if he heard the word “soon” or if another name was given. My friend smiled and said “no” to these things. This friend of mine is solid. He is a man of his word and has heard things from God before. This leads me to believe that he is not lying and that he did in fact hear something.
I am a worrier. I worry that I will die alone (it is my greatest fear). I worry that I am not stable enough for a marriage. I worry that I won’t be able to provide financial support. I worry about so many things: my lack of physical fitness, unstable mental health, struggles to start a career, but I think I worry the most about never finding love.
So in the midst of all that worry and doubt came a promise from God:
You will be married.
I struggle with deep depression. Perhaps this is God’s way of saying “hold on.” I think he knows my greatest fear and speaks against it. “I got you, even in that dark place.”
I am glad for that knowledge. I am glad for the peace that comes from it. I am going to try and believe the promise God made to me and all the other promises he has made to all of us. I am going to try and leave worry behind and pick up hope instead. It is much lighter, I’m sure.
So much respect. Pray 4 J Givens.
“It’s the feeling of power in our powerlessness. A feeling of knowing that we don’t know. A feeling of gaining strength by admitting weakness.” – Andrew W.K.
Andrew W.K. responds to a letter written to him about prayer. The sender has just learned that his brother has been diagnosed with cancer. The sender’s grandmother feels the family should pray for his brother, and he feels prayer is pointless and solves nothing. It actually makes the sender angry to even think about prayer.
Andrew W.K.’s retort is amazing:
“I want you to pray for your brother right now. As a gesture to your grandmother — who, if she didn’t exist, neither would you. I want you to pray right now, just for the sake of challenging yourself. I want you to find a place alone, and kneel down — against all your stubborn tendencies telling you not to — and close your eyes and think of one concentrated thought: your brother.”
I love that response. Asking some one to pray out of respect for their grandmother. Asking someone to pray as a challenge. We should constantly put ourselves in other people’s shoes. Because if what we believe is in fact true, then it will stand up to any challenge. As Shad says, “The truth is bulletproof.”
W.K. goes on to say that prayer is more than meditation because of humility (which means the condition of being humble or having a modest estimate of one’s own importance). Humbling ourselves before something greater than us.
I enjoyed this article, and subsequently, every article I have read that Andrew W.K. has written. I think he has a unique perspective. I don’t always agree with everything he says, but I think his voice is very important and has a meaningful place in the cultural landscape. Also, his music is rad.
Photo by Ashley Eberbach
Tyler Strittmatter 