Humble Me (Gently)...?
Growing up, my siblings and I were always acutely aware of the contents of our freezer- that is, whether or not they contained anything remotely sugary. In the event of those anticipated nights upon whence we knew a fresh tub of Cookies-N-Cream occupied its quarters, no small effort went into our quest to attain a bowl. We would essentially huddle up in the playroom after dinner, deciding whose turn it was to ask Dad and Mom for dessert, which parent gave us better odds of a yes, and how we were to go about our appeal. Well, at least on one occasion, we actually wrote out a formal letter (as formal as a ten-year-old’s grammar and handwriting affords), attached it to our dog’s collar, and left “check yes” or “check no” boxes. I don’t know if our measures actually equated to better chances, but our motives were to avoid the direct confrontation of asking our parents. We were so scared of a “no”, or perhaps of a light rebuke to, “Go and play with your sister” that we dreaded the task.
It sounds ridiculous to put so much thought into crafting a
request for ice cream, but I would argue that we do the same thing in our
prayer life. The age-old, secular adage, “Be careful what you wish for” has
transferred into many Christian’s doctrine, damaging our view of the Father and
dodging the blessings he desires to give us.
I can still remember a guest speaker who stood before my Women’s
Discipleship class at Bible College, sharing her tragic journey with more lost
babies than any mother’s heart should have to bear. She prefaced her
story with a word of warning, advising us never to ask God for faith unless we
are braced for sorrow and trials. On another occasion, my college dean
encouraged our class to echo his prayer that God would “gently humble
us”, instilling a fear in me of what would happen if I omitted that key word
“gently”. Yet another role model in my life made a cautionary statement
that has reverberated in my mind for years: “Never ask God to humble
you.”
I’m sure, like me, you have been warned by many, even from the
pulpit, to refrain from certain, “consequential” prayers. And I don’t mean to
incriminate these individuals, who truthfully only echo the very concerns that
shape many of our prayers. We are all guilty of delicately weaving
fearful prayers, attempting to manipulate what we desire from God without
receiving a side of suffering. We spout of spiritual sounding requests,
learning to avoid certain phrases, lest we incur the wrath of God. But there is
a huge problem with this widely accepted perspective: it profoundly
misrepresents the heart of our Father. For an accurate depiction of whom
we pray to, we can look (as always) to the Bible:
“Which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him
a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then,
who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will
your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!”
(Matthew 7:9-11)
If we truly believe our Father gives good gifts, we can stop side stepping requests for faith, humility and peace. Instead of settling for mediocre spiritual walks, we can passionately pursue godly traits, trusting that “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32). We can stand on the promise that He exalts those who humble themselves (James 4:10). And we can believe that faith is a gift, enabling us to quench the fiery darts of the enemy (Ephesians 6:16). Trade in your assumptions that God delights in the suffering of his saints with the promises of his goodness.
Don’t get me wrong: God definitely uses
suffering in our life to bring us closer to him. But when we stop
believing Satan’s lie that God is just waiting to rob us of life, we can enter
into the rest of understanding that God withholds no good thing (Psalm 84:11).
For just as sure as the pain and struggle life brings, is the blessing that
accompanies prayer.
Yes, I was warned, years ago, to never pray for patience.....
ReplyDeleteWhy wouldn't I want to pray to be more like my own Father?
Nice post!
The dad bought another antiquated laptop and Frankensteined our dead one with that, so I can read your posts again! Huzzah! Love the photos!
The Mom