On breaking and bending
A dear friend commented on my last blog post and noticed how the last post before I broke finger included this line: "What if is brokenness is an opportunity to experience healing?" Wow. Moral of the story? Be careful what you write. But of course there are way bigger morals to the story- such as God loves to heal. He will take care of my every need. He will never leave of forsake me.
It is bright, sunny and warm outside. Spring is announcing itself with unfurling leaves, swaying branches, and chirping bird making sweet morning melodies. Six weeks ago there was an ice storm and a new dog. To this day, six weeks ago, on the first day of Lent, I broke my finger chasing that new dog through the snow. Now all that remains is a tiny, red knob where the bone grew back, some very minimal swelling, and stiff muscles.
I have learned so many things throughout the last six weeks and probably will have to keep relearning so many of them, but the beauty and difficulty of healing has opened my eyes to other places of need for healing in my life.
The other day the Lord showed me how I treat the healing of my broken finger very much the same way I treat prayer in my life. I am reading probably the most inspiration book on prayer I have ever read called The Circle Maker. It will not tell you how to pray and what to pray, but it will inspire you to pray and believe. That is what good art and good writing will do- not instruct, but inspire.
About two weeks ago, I took the splint off my finger, got my last x-ray, and was told to start slowly bending and exercising it even though the bone part was not completely healed. After four weeks of learning to type, write, cut food, tie my shoes, wash my hair, put gel in my hair, turn the key in the ignition, and so many other things I have learned very well how to not use that finger in each of those activities without even thinking about it. Now, I am having to relearn how to do things correctly. It is not coming naturally. When I wake up in the morning, I have to lay there in bed exercising and moving that finger so that I use it more readily throughout the day.
I am finding that my prayers are like my broken finger. I have spent so much of my life trying to do things on my own. Fixing problems, finding solutions, coming up with answers myself that I don't pray near as often as I would like to. I want prayer to come as naturally as breathing, but it doesn't yet. While reading this book, I have been challenged and simultaneously encouraged and discouraged at the number of big things I want to pray for and how the actual prayers for those things escape me most of the day.
I know I need to keep bending my finger. I know I need to keep praying. But it doesn't come naturally. I have to think about it over and over and over again until slowly but surely it becomes a natural part of me again. And it will. That is the way the body works. That is the way the soul works.
I will keep bending my finger. I will keep bending my knees in prayer.
I will give thanks for the healing that has already taken place. I will give thanks in advance for the full healing that will take place. I will give thanks that Jesus is preparing a place for us in heaven where there is no brokenness and hurt and pain.
It is bright, sunny and warm outside. Spring is announcing itself with unfurling leaves, swaying branches, and chirping bird making sweet morning melodies. Six weeks ago there was an ice storm and a new dog. To this day, six weeks ago, on the first day of Lent, I broke my finger chasing that new dog through the snow. Now all that remains is a tiny, red knob where the bone grew back, some very minimal swelling, and stiff muscles.
I have learned so many things throughout the last six weeks and probably will have to keep relearning so many of them, but the beauty and difficulty of healing has opened my eyes to other places of need for healing in my life.
The other day the Lord showed me how I treat the healing of my broken finger very much the same way I treat prayer in my life. I am reading probably the most inspiration book on prayer I have ever read called The Circle Maker. It will not tell you how to pray and what to pray, but it will inspire you to pray and believe. That is what good art and good writing will do- not instruct, but inspire.
About two weeks ago, I took the splint off my finger, got my last x-ray, and was told to start slowly bending and exercising it even though the bone part was not completely healed. After four weeks of learning to type, write, cut food, tie my shoes, wash my hair, put gel in my hair, turn the key in the ignition, and so many other things I have learned very well how to not use that finger in each of those activities without even thinking about it. Now, I am having to relearn how to do things correctly. It is not coming naturally. When I wake up in the morning, I have to lay there in bed exercising and moving that finger so that I use it more readily throughout the day.
I am finding that my prayers are like my broken finger. I have spent so much of my life trying to do things on my own. Fixing problems, finding solutions, coming up with answers myself that I don't pray near as often as I would like to. I want prayer to come as naturally as breathing, but it doesn't yet. While reading this book, I have been challenged and simultaneously encouraged and discouraged at the number of big things I want to pray for and how the actual prayers for those things escape me most of the day.
I know I need to keep bending my finger. I know I need to keep praying. But it doesn't come naturally. I have to think about it over and over and over again until slowly but surely it becomes a natural part of me again. And it will. That is the way the body works. That is the way the soul works.
I will keep bending my finger. I will keep bending my knees in prayer.
I will give thanks for the healing that has already taken place. I will give thanks in advance for the full healing that will take place. I will give thanks that Jesus is preparing a place for us in heaven where there is no brokenness and hurt and pain.
Comments
Post a Comment