With Arms Wide Open

"Then the Lord asked him, 'What do you have there in your hand?'"
(Exodus 4:2)

I have always struggled with prayer. With my prayer life. Praying into the air. What to say. How to say it. How to just talk, not give a speech. Speaking from the heart, not Christianese. Can I do it anytime, anywhere or do I have to be kneeling at the side of my bed in order for God to hear? What constitutes a prayer? How does prayer even work? Wanting to pray out of desire for relationship, for conversation...not out of duty. Or worse, out of fear of consequence.

Does God even hear prayer? I have asked that many times.

I have more questions than answers.

But I have come to believe that prayer can, does and should happen anywhere. Anytime. Prayer is word. Thought. Image. Vision. Laughter. Tears. A sigh.

Anne Lamott wrote about two of the most powerful prayers. Help me, help me, help me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I'm with her.

Lately, I have connected with the idea of praying in pictures, images, visions. I have started to recognize that as the language that God most clearly speaks to me. And so I have started to use the same language to speak back. I picture Jesus sitting by the water. Waiting for me. He hears me coming, turns, smiles, and motions for me to come closer.

"What do you have there in your hand?"

I carry in my hands, my prayer. A presentation, an offering, even in all it's mess and brokenness. My empty womb. A wounded and bruised heart. I picture myself, literally carrying those physical parts of me in my hands, showing Jesus what He already knows. Sometimes, I hold the hand of someone else, bringing them to the water. As a surrogate, I bring forth the bruised and broken parts of others.

While I was on missions recently, I had the privilege of praying for many women. The pain was palpable. But I did not speak the language. And I didn't always know their story. And so, in my mind, I took each woman by the hand and walked with her to the water. Bringing her to Him. Knowing He knew, even when I didn't, and that He was waiting.

Right now, I am bringing Jesus my brain. Racing. Broken. Disconnected. Wires crossed. Fuses blown. My mind.

I feel freedom in praying this way. Sometimes there are no words to really describe what is happening in me and around me. And more than that, I am learning that there is a sacredness in the silence, in the stillness. I have felt it. And in that, I have felt God.

What do you have there in your hand?