A question was posed for discussion online recently about prayer, it ended with “….Is He incapable of moving with out man’s prayers?”
I know that we have been given prayer as a gift, a way to communicate with God, but I’ve learned a lot about prayer over the years.
And my views have shifted as I have learned to view God as “Father”.
What I do know is that God’s love for me and His ability to intervene in my life, to lead and guide, to help and care for me, is NOT dependent on the length of time I am able to devote to prayer, how spiritual my prayers are, or if I even have a clue what to say to Him. I have had seasons where prayer was active and alive in my life, where I was able to devote large chunks of time to prayer; and I have had seasons where my prayers are more like a breath or a groan, occasionally a “Help, God.”
He is a Father and He loves like a Father. He moves in our lives like a Father.
If one of my children trips at the playground and falls, followed by tears and that familiar grasp of the knee, I don’t sit by and wait for them to come to me. I don’t sit there for 5 minutes to see if they will cry out for me an appropriate amount of time before I respond. I leap up at the first cry. I leap up at the first sign of a fall.
It’s simple. That’s what any mother or father would do.
I’ve tripped and fallen, my knees are battered and bruised. They are bleeding and I am in pain.
Many of you have fallen in your own way. Many of you are hurting and in pain.
Guess what? We have a Father who comes running right away.
The minute we utter the first groan, the minute He sees our body hit the pavement.
Today God is not waiting for me to get up out of the dirt and drag my hurting self to Him.
He has come down into the dirt with me.
He is not asking me to talk, He is just here.
He is not waiting for me to explain to Him how much I need Him to rescue me, carry me, hold on tight to me.
He is just there, being a Father.
This healing isn’t going to be a quick one. I’m bleeding still.
I know He is there, even though it’s kind of quiet.
He lets me yell at him and tell Him the pain is too much.
He is familiar with my pain.
I know God loves to hear from us, loves to have us express our hearts and ask Him questions. But as a parent (and since He is a Father), I also know that sometimes children don’t have words. Sometimes children just need us to be there.
Sometimes this child just needs her Father to be present in the pain.
Grief can’t be fixed. Grief must be felt.
So here I am with my skinned knees.
And He is here.