(I wrote this some time ago as more of a devotional and wanted to share it with anyone who may be able to relate.)
Psalm 5:1 “Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing.”
Have you ever been so angry frustrated or grieved that you were at a loss for words? Instead we sigh or groan or scream to God. Could emotions expressed without words be considered prayer?
There is a motivating picture of war painted for us in I Chronicles as the Reubenites, the Gadites and the half-tribe of Manasseh—44,760 able-bodied men ready for military service, war against four opposing tribes. As the war ensues, God hands their allies over to them “because they cried out to him during the battle. He answered their prayers because they trusted in him(I Chronicles 5:18-20)."
Imagine this bloody war scene with 44,760 men crying out to God -- cries in the thick of war, imploring God to come to their aid. I am convinced that their prayers were not proper, pretty prayers spoken with eloquence. They could have only been loud cries of desperation from grown men who realized their humanity and feared for their lives. As they fought, shield in one hand, sword or bow in the other, there was no denying that the only hope they had was God.
In times of great desperation, great pain, or grief, our prayers become cries, screams, groans or sighs; and sometimes complete silence or body-wrenching sobs.
In Guerillas of Grace, Ted Loder’s perspective of prayer puts it this way,
“How shall I pray?
Are tears prayers, Lord?
Are screams prayers,
Or groans
Or sighs
Or curses?
Can trembling hands be lifted to you,
Or clenched fists
Or the cold sweat that trickles down my back
Or the cramps that knot my stomach?
Will you accept my prayers, Lord,
My real prayers,
Rooted in the muck and mud and rock of my life,
And not just the pretty, cut-flower, gracefully arranged
Bouquet of words?
Will you accept me, Lord,
As I really am,
Messed up mixture of glory and grime?
As God’s children, we are not left alone in our battles and our weaknesses, “In the same way, the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express (Rom.8:26).” God hears our sighs and our groans, as the Spirit intercedes for us in accordance with God’s will.
In the messy battles of life, our cries and groans are lifted to heaven as we surrender our will to His. When the battle becomes so dark that we fear we will not be left standing, He hears us and answers our prayers. A breakthrough happens as we break down and trust God with every ounce of our being.
Even in our darkest moments, we are not alone.
We shall stand--shield in one hand, sword in the other, as God's fearless warriors.
Today’s Prayer: “Father, there are times when I pray and I have no words. The weight I carry can only be expressed with sighs and groans as I still myself in Your presence. Sometimes in silence I cry out to You. Holy Spirit, thank You for interceding with groans that words cannot express. Without You, I would be left without hope. Sometimes, in the middle of my battle, I am weak and unable to stand. In my weakness You reveal Yourself to me time and again with both strength and gentleness. Father, Your unfailing love shakes me to the core. In dark moments when I have nothing to offer, You still hold me in the arms of Your faithful love. I am truly a messed up mixture of glory and grime. May my confidence rest on Your character and not on my circumstances. I am desperate for more of You. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.”
Stay the Course...
Sheila Cote
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Nothing Left But a Memory
I awoke this morning to news from a friend about our old high school and church; the entire building collapsed due to heavy snow. The building also housed the Bible school that I attended, which is where I met my husband. We were married in that church over 25 years ago as were all three of my sisters. I looked the building up on the Alaska news channel and to my surprise the only thing remaining was a pile of rubble. So many memories were made in that building that now lay in ruins.
Ironic, the timing of this event, as it has given me words to what I have been feeling in my own life; although time is not a respecter of person, and change is inevitable, we must hold onto those memories that have helped knit us into the person that we are today. When all we have to hold onto is a memory, we must protect the memory, as we reflect back and see God’s fingerprints in each chapter of our lives.
Time has a wonderful way of helping us remember moments that we hold dear, while in actuality, the moments may have been very difficult or painful. The lessons gleaned in the thrust of life’s battles are invaluable; battle scars serve as reminders that we will never be the same having gone through the battle. In difficult times, we remember most clearly the deep feelings of the circumstance more than the actual circumstance. Did we feel loved, did we feel abandoned, did we feel cared for, did we feel despair, hope, love, etc.?
Mixed with the memory of the moment is the beauty of watching our own lives unfold as we look back and see how the pain and joy of life has impacted the condition of our own hearts. Somehow we make it through the deepest valleys to the peaks of mountains time and again; holding onto the memories of our journey. In time, our experiences and memories may be pulled to share with another who is experiencing a similar situation. Other times, the memories are ours alone to keep tucked away for our own growth.
There is nothing to prove and nothing to change from past events in our lives; each day is given but once and then it is gone. There are no guarantees, no return policies and no refunds on this tangible existence that we call life.
May God’s grace and love continue to carry us through each new day.
Just as my old church lies in an unidentifiable pile of rubble, one day we, too, shall return to dust. One day, when we are nothing more than a memory, may it be said of us that our lives were lived selflessly, full of love, in total obedience to our Father, bringing honor and glory to His name.
Stay the Course...
Sheila Cote
Ironic, the timing of this event, as it has given me words to what I have been feeling in my own life; although time is not a respecter of person, and change is inevitable, we must hold onto those memories that have helped knit us into the person that we are today. When all we have to hold onto is a memory, we must protect the memory, as we reflect back and see God’s fingerprints in each chapter of our lives.
Time has a wonderful way of helping us remember moments that we hold dear, while in actuality, the moments may have been very difficult or painful. The lessons gleaned in the thrust of life’s battles are invaluable; battle scars serve as reminders that we will never be the same having gone through the battle. In difficult times, we remember most clearly the deep feelings of the circumstance more than the actual circumstance. Did we feel loved, did we feel abandoned, did we feel cared for, did we feel despair, hope, love, etc.?
Mixed with the memory of the moment is the beauty of watching our own lives unfold as we look back and see how the pain and joy of life has impacted the condition of our own hearts. Somehow we make it through the deepest valleys to the peaks of mountains time and again; holding onto the memories of our journey. In time, our experiences and memories may be pulled to share with another who is experiencing a similar situation. Other times, the memories are ours alone to keep tucked away for our own growth.
There is nothing to prove and nothing to change from past events in our lives; each day is given but once and then it is gone. There are no guarantees, no return policies and no refunds on this tangible existence that we call life.
May God’s grace and love continue to carry us through each new day.
Just as my old church lies in an unidentifiable pile of rubble, one day we, too, shall return to dust. One day, when we are nothing more than a memory, may it be said of us that our lives were lived selflessly, full of love, in total obedience to our Father, bringing honor and glory to His name.
Stay the Course...
Sheila Cote
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Caged Lion
Wildly he paces back and forth on the worn path of his confined environment. He has room to move and stretch; but no room to do what he was created to do-- run. Time has fatigued his spirit, though memories of freedom often revisit him as he restlessly slumbers.
Passers-by stop at his man-made habitat, beholding his beauty, admiring his strength and size. Although he appears to be tame and broken; he is not. He cannot conform to the small cage and tasteless food for he knows that his identity lies beyond the boundaries of his closterphobic environment.
He attempts to rest beneath the shade of a tree amidst the clamor and commotion of the crowd. Cameras flash, shouts and whistles penetrate his space. His spirit fights within to not lash out. Though caged, he is fully able to scare even the bravest onlooker. However, the full wrath of his fury cannot be unleashed. Instead, turning his slouched body against the crowd, his sad eyes drop from view.
He remembers days of past when both his legs and his spirit thundered across the rolling plains; days when he was surrounded by those who knew him intimately. Respected within his pride, freedom was the aroma that surrounded his every breath. Fully alive, fully unleashed, fully living in the potential he was created to reach.
Dying at the jaws of an enemy would be a welcome death compared to that of his spirit dying within him. The very essence of who he was born to be slowly fades as the daily demands of his new world rape him of his identity. Although his physical needs are met, the despair and loneliness in his chest ache beyond his ability to understand. He lies listless in the afternoon sun, waiting for nothing.
I am that caged lion; sad eyes, slouched shoulders. The world closes in, suffocating my spirit, begging me to match that which I was not created to match. I pace back and forth, restless and angry. I am a foreigner in a foreign land. Sleepless nights meet me. I question my Maker as to the true purpose of my existence. He looks at me and sees me as who He created to me be; but I am unable to see past my encaged environment.
I am unable to conform to my environment, unwilling to settle for complacency, uninterested in pretension, and unbelievably restless; an angry, pacing lion.
I pray for humility. However, I also pray for boldness and courage to stay true to my God-created identity. I will not shrink back nor cower; for I and the lion are kindred-- both created to run wildly in total abandon, leaving behind no regrets. unleashing the spirit within and breaking free from the confines of our cages.
Stay the Course...
Sheila Cote
Passers-by stop at his man-made habitat, beholding his beauty, admiring his strength and size. Although he appears to be tame and broken; he is not. He cannot conform to the small cage and tasteless food for he knows that his identity lies beyond the boundaries of his closterphobic environment.
He attempts to rest beneath the shade of a tree amidst the clamor and commotion of the crowd. Cameras flash, shouts and whistles penetrate his space. His spirit fights within to not lash out. Though caged, he is fully able to scare even the bravest onlooker. However, the full wrath of his fury cannot be unleashed. Instead, turning his slouched body against the crowd, his sad eyes drop from view.
He remembers days of past when both his legs and his spirit thundered across the rolling plains; days when he was surrounded by those who knew him intimately. Respected within his pride, freedom was the aroma that surrounded his every breath. Fully alive, fully unleashed, fully living in the potential he was created to reach.
Dying at the jaws of an enemy would be a welcome death compared to that of his spirit dying within him. The very essence of who he was born to be slowly fades as the daily demands of his new world rape him of his identity. Although his physical needs are met, the despair and loneliness in his chest ache beyond his ability to understand. He lies listless in the afternoon sun, waiting for nothing.
I am that caged lion; sad eyes, slouched shoulders. The world closes in, suffocating my spirit, begging me to match that which I was not created to match. I pace back and forth, restless and angry. I am a foreigner in a foreign land. Sleepless nights meet me. I question my Maker as to the true purpose of my existence. He looks at me and sees me as who He created to me be; but I am unable to see past my encaged environment.
I am unable to conform to my environment, unwilling to settle for complacency, uninterested in pretension, and unbelievably restless; an angry, pacing lion.
I pray for humility. However, I also pray for boldness and courage to stay true to my God-created identity. I will not shrink back nor cower; for I and the lion are kindred-- both created to run wildly in total abandon, leaving behind no regrets. unleashing the spirit within and breaking free from the confines of our cages.
Stay the Course...
Sheila Cote
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