We all have many prayers prayed over and over, the divine utterances of hearts in longing for something that often cannot be put into words, and sometimes are the only words we can find. The things perhaps only you and He knows of. I am no different. These are not the corporate prayers, the prayer requests sent out. These are the things that rest in your heart, and commune with Him over and through the seasons and years.
Many times my prayers are not even words, they are the breaths in and out in hunger, longing, desire, and ache, and often there are so many words I don’t know when to silence them. Over the years I have found these quiet and sometimes silent utterances tell of me, more than anything, through them I know something of my story. And yet, this ‘knowing’ can leave us in a vulnerable place of waiting, of desire, because we are aware, convicted, entwined in desire and our story yet we do not, can not demand the finale, outcomes to our longings. This is part of the yielding of devotion, the life of love, for desire and demand are opposing in love, and to love is to surrender.
I know I am made perfectly and uniquely to fit in His domain, His kingdom, I was fashioned with perfection for a family of love that entwines itself in the presence of our Father, evoking a child like response moment by moment of devotion and surrender, with a voice that moves heaven more and more and moulds Earth at its frequency, to be affected by it.
I have prayed for many hours for my home, my spaces to be an embassy of Heaven, to be land occupied by the Kings domain. I have visioned that over it’s boundary lines, personal, family, National, cultures would be left behind as they yield and apprehend the culture of Heaven. I have groaned for awakenings, renewals and revivals in my heart, home, my tribes, community and lands. I have held my hand up in offering wholeheartedly to be an ambassador on earth of something I still have not fully explored nor fully ‘know’, but ‘see’, sense and taste and ‘know’ with unshakable confidence is more real that anything. With all that’s within me I am zealous to live for that which is far greater, far more glorious and good than I can even imagine, dream or put into words, as a mother I’m an explorer on earth trying to find more of these treasures for my son to possess. I am happy to not fit in or look like I make sense, I feel confident that my steps and faith make sense in a way that may ever remain a mystery to me, and thus to many. I am happy to build in simplicity and to surrender my right to build, I am able to see when I attempt to build my life it’s like mere wooden blocks, easy to topple, fail, and fall, I am trusting in a builder who’s bricks are eternal and made in the fabric of my laid down life’s affection and meagre offerings. I play with my blocks and there is delight and pleasure in my fathers heart as I do. I play with creativity and expression as a gift given to me, I am naive in my play and I’m not able to make it in the grown up world so well, I have not yet learnt how to grow a career or role out of the gifts I get to play with. Perhaps I am maturing, perhaps I never will. I am able to imagine more than I can create, but perhaps that’s because my heart is entwined in the knowledge that this is all temporary and one day, as things fade, and all things become new I will feel more at home.
I seek to live in rest, but I am also restless and strive towards covenants that I feel fuelled to see manifest. I am a narrator of this adventure, I am putting together small chapters yet I know I am not really the writer of my story, there is an author who is greater. His words craft me, and when I lose sight or am hard of hearing I feel the emptiness of my pages, and I am vulnerable to other scripts, thankfully cords of love are strong and faithfully I am challenged, healed in my impairment . I am running towards a prize and I am often eager for the end to some of the many narratives that are being read out in my being, I look to the finish, sometimes even at the beginning and I forget the journey, the footsteps, and many pages before, and so I forget that I am not the finisher but I can rest assured I know the One who is, even in my impatience. I believe I am, and can create an outpost of heaven, it’s my life’s passion, excitement and joy, I am charged with the dream of it, in all its beautiful and multifaceted ways. I believe I am preparing a place for others, a place of encounter and belonging, it is around my table, it by the fire, it is in worship, song and story, sound, and tastes. It is in moments, profound and simple; in wild places and at home. It’s being awake to the One. It is learning to engage with love, with a response of all my thoughts and imaginings, intellect and ideas, all my heart, its desires, emotion and integrity and all my movement and physical presence to the One who is Worthy of all of me. Remembering that i am part of the ‘all things’ that live and breathe and have my being in and through him, and so my all is, with humility and joy His.
And as I breath and move and turn up in all the seasons, as I let my story be authored, my canvas be painted, my melody orchestrated, my moves choreographed I learn to find peace that great is His faithfulness ever remaining. Because what we pray over and over, the groans, thirsts passions of our heart, the silent laments and the word filled decrees and requests tell us of who we are and how we were made to be and so we can be confident explorers in wonder at that, and know the One who fashioned, formed, dreamt, and dreams of and for you is in your very breathe and being working out His glory. Because in our desire he broods over us and forms life, even when we don’t realise it to be so.