Tag Archives: prayer

Wait on the Lord…but in the Meantime

Psalm 27:14 Wait on the LordAt times, my husband, Sandy, grows weary of my writing process. Wait on the Lord…but in the MeantimeWait on the Lord

Morning Convo:

ME: “I’m stuck. I don’t know where to go from here. It’s  all gobbledygook!”

SANDY: “God always shows you. Don’t worry about it.”

Afternoon Convo:

ME: You won’t believe what God showed me. Remember that guy, the drunk? I had to pick his false teeth up off the sidewalk? It’s the perfect lead-in for where we need to go. Right? I’m so happy.” Wait on the Lord

SANDY:  “Me too.”

Evening Convo:

SANDY: “What’s wrong? You look upset?” Wait on the Lord

ME: “I don’t know what to do. There’s nowhere to go from here. It’s all garbled.”

SANDY: God always gives you direction. It will be okay.”

He has a point (“sigh”). And, (long “sigh”), he’s right. Our book is built; word by word, paragraph by paragraph, chapter by chapter, page by page, one prayer at a time. I know that. Wait on the Lord

But then…

At 10,000 words, I start to pray for the ending to our story. The big finish. Where do you place a period in God’s story? After all, He’s still writing. My thoughts wander… What if I drop dead, mid-sentence, without ever finishing our story? Wait on the Lord

Wait…

Trust. Wait on the Lord. Remember, if this book is meant to be, I won’t fall face-first onto the keyboard before it’s complete. Keep clicking away at the keys, trusting His signs and landmarks. Listen and follow God’s GPS signals. Wait for Him to whisper: “You have reached your destination.”

But then… Wait on the Lord

At 40,000 words, WORRY creeps back in alongside its buddy DOUBT.  I feel like I’m writing with a big rubber plunger, attempting to unclog the words, retrieving merely a hairball destined for the trash. Striving reaps one reward; pressing me to my knees, head raised in fervent prayer. The result? Words gushing forth, and hubby dear echoing his beloved, “I told you so.” Wait on the Lord

Scrolling the pages, through 80,000 words, I’m grateful for each character, and hope for reaching the “THE END,” is flashing like a beacon from that clichéd tunnel. God has provided; the means; time, content, energy, patience, hope, drive, perseverance, wisdom. Yet the prayer, requesting a stop sign, remains unanswered. I feel the journey’s climax, but I’ve no clue of the destination.

I picture my petition in heaven’s inbox, buried under a mound of others, awaiting attention. Before long, I slip into that lonely seat behind the control panel. I’ll just get things rolling while I wait on God. Help out with the creative process. It seems the book needs a big finish to compete with other popular books. Like surviving a bloody shark attack! And we should save hordes of souls! Proof we deserve all He has done for us. Wait on the Lord

Oh, but wait…

This is non-fiction. And we, nor anyone, deserve the Sacrifice made for us. That’s the whole point of our story! We are the ordinary, the mundane everyday sinners, trudging through the ant farm tunnels. We are the least of the least. Yet He loves us, through it all.

Back to prayer.

 “Lord please show me how best to bring glory to You.”

Meanwhile, back at the pages….

I often write in the car on my laptop while Sandy evaluates the driving skills of all within his range. Clicking away at the keys keeps me occupied and, therefore, both of us happy. On the way to the beach, for a two-day needed get-away, I finish the first draft of the second to the last chapter of our book. It leads the reader straight to the sweet spot begging satisfaction.

“Sandy, we’re at the end. I still don’t know how…”

“(Groan) Wait for it. He’ll give you the end. You know it.”

In prayerful memory, I took time recognizing His faithfulness thus far. Closing the lid on my laptop, I let go. I walked…snuggled… read…prayed… worshiped… listened. The book with no end took a seat in the back of the brain bus.

Wearing headlights atop our hooded sweatshirts, we took a late night walk on the beach, savoring the mist, the waves, and each other. Nearly 25 years ago, we strolled this same beach, as honeymooners.

To our right, we eye a seagull confidently holding its spot on the beach. Nodding agreement, we rush the bird, in honor of our deceased 110-pound lab, Gabe. His mantra? Never let a gull go unchased. Thoughts of Gabe, stir a nest of memories. In the midst of recollecting tears and guffaws, I realize we  are performing the end of our book. God is showing me, providing a detailed script, a live scene, like I’m watching a play.

I wrote the end, in the form of an epilogue on the drive home, like a court reporter transcribing a trial. It’s the easiest writing session I’ve ever experienced. I won’t be a spoiler, telling more of the end. I will say, although the book ends on the beach, there are no sharks in our story. Even so, lives are saved and the Hero wins.

God was not late in giving his answer… he was perfect.

See below to read a sample chapter of our book in progress.

New Christian Author Preview Chapter: In Spite of Us – Stalked by a Loving God

Prayer – The First and Last Tool You’ll Ever Need

 A red tool box with the letters TOOLS.

A heart of solid stone… that’s what it would take to survive if I did not have PRAYER in my toolbox. For all the times past, present and future when I could not, would not or did not DO anything. When I stepped over the vomit sopped drunk asleep in the alley… kept quiet when gossip sprayed across a room like a sneeze… or daily, doing my thing, ignoring what I read or heard on the news.

One seemingly standard-issue day, a woman stood across the counter at my Antiques store holding a new, cheaply made, necklace spinning a story of ancient history and real gold. I wasn’t listening much to what she was saying, I’d heard the yarn many times. Instead, I looked into her dead eyes desperately seeking a sign of life. There was a hint of youth despite her cadaverous persona.

 When I explained the necklace was neither gold nor old, a new lie snaked out between decayed teeth, something about needing $10 to catch a bus because she was stranded. Again, I knew the story. I wasn’t really listening. My mind spun like a Rolodex searching for solutions. I want to help but know I do not hold that kind of power. Part of me wants her to disappear so I can return to the bliss of denying the world around me. Bad ideas exhausted, I remember where my help comes fromPlease God… help me know what to do.

“I don’t want the necklace. You need help. I can see that. I’ll give you the money. You’ll run to the nearest drug dealer. We both know that. First, would you let me pray with you?”

She agreed.

Ordinarily I pray eyes shut intently listening, this time I kept them open, revealing a momentary glimpse of light, a peek at youth, a trace of a softening heart. The dark hollows holding the dead eyes, damp from tears. My senses heightened, I heard a tear hit the glass on the counter, one of mine. We shared a smile in another world. She looked away, but not before I saw childlike innocence. With amen, the glow on her face drained, leaving a desperate look of “where’s the cash?”

I ignored her demanding stature, going on about my church, suggesting ways she could get help until finally succumbing to her outstretched hand. With the ten dollar bill in hand, she raced for the door, stopped at the stoop, turned my way…

“I’ll be okay. Really. I’ll look for you at your church, Vineyard… right?”

That was several years ago. I think of her often, and pray. I wonder, did God answer our prayer? Is she living a full and vital life today, free from the bondage of drugs? Yet, it’s hard to picture her anything but dead. Maybe it was ME God healed that day, a progressive miracle, kneading my heart.

Helpless? Yes. Without hope? Never. One tool, prayer, keeps me sane. Without it, I’m an idiot. A busy, frantic, destructive action figure believing the delusion that I can fix things like a self-help, handyman, super hero.

I don’t know about you, but some days I am not able to ignore the dead bodies piling up just beyond the sanctity of my white picket fence. My eyes open to see the child hiding behind the gang tattoos, the loneliness around the widow in the supermarket, the daily news of tragedies, near and far, now and soon to come. I try not to dwell there and sometimes prefer a blindfold to a prayer, admittedly because when I feel helpless I forget that prayer is a verb.

Still… how do you stand by and watch a proverbial scene of man repeatedly beating himself with a stick? You ask them to quit? Yes, but they won’t stop. What then? We watched a friend toss 14 years of sobriety as simply as crumpling a sheet of paper, hurled into the waste basket. He lived in a small house directly in front of our kitchen window. A close friend to my husband, a new acquaintance of mine. We stood at our kitchen window, washing dishes, witness to the deterioration of a hearty, vital, vivacious man, morphing into a soulless human shell. All the schemes and well wishes of kings could not have brought him back. We, like many others, prayed… and prayed some more. He clearly wanted nothing more than to get life over with as fast as possible. I remember many prayers that he would experience God’s grace.

After two years of warring with himself, stopping periodically to gain enough strength to return to the battle of self-destruction, he miraculously “got it.” No earthly explanation. Today he lives, that’s a big deal in itself. Cooler yet, he’s living out the miracle as a generous, boisterous, fun-loving character searching for ways to show Grace to others; volunteering time and energy to anyone in need.

I’m grateful for the prayer tool in my otherwise empty toolbox. As an insomniac, I’ve learned to embrace this time as an opportunity to listen through the ears of my heart as God whispers the names of those I should pray for. It’s a special time cuddling with Father God. More often than not, sleep returns before I can finish the prayer list; waking with the remaining names on my heart ready for a fresh pre-dawn prayer session.

Honestly, I prefer the secret intercessory times than face to face prayers. Though that’s not completely true. Better to say I shy away from it, humbled when the Holy Spirit conducts, orchestrates and completes, leaving me aware of my lack of necessity in the scheme. I may be standing there, but the “me” of the moment, is obliterated from the equation.

I try to remember those times when I am tempted to ignore the still small voice prompting me to pray with someone. Shamefully, I remember asking a woman I respected at a retreat “how are you doing?” Expecting to hear “great” or “fine” she responds with “not so good.” I heard my heart say “May I pray with you,” but out of my mouth came, “I’ve a funny story that will cheer you up.” It didn’t. I walked away, head down.

The desire to provide a quick fix like slapping on a band-aid, giving lame advice, side swiping with a compliment (great shoes), or telling a joke must be hereditary. My dear, loving, funny, best-ever Na-na could make me madder than a wet cat (one of her terms). With perfect timing… like right after a skinned knee or whacked elbow, she’d say, “just think how much better it will feel when it quits hurting.”

AAAAAAAAAAGGGH! It still gets me to think about it.

 We all have times in our life when we need more than a funny story or flippant remark. Likewise, there are times when we need to GIVE something more than a slapstick distraction. Many times, most times for me, prayer will be the only tool clanking around in the empty tool box. A funny thing I’ve learned is that when I use this tool to help another, something broken inside myself gets repaired as well.

In Spite of Us - Chapter Previewhttps://debpalmerauthor.wordpress.com/2014/11/13/christian-author-preview-chapter-in-spite-of-us-stalked-by-a-loving-god/

The Christian’s Secret To Winning The Weight Loss Battle – Free No Risk Plan

boxer

“Imprisoned in every fat man a thin one is wildly signalling to be let out.”

 We’ve all heard versions of this quote by old English writer Cyril Connolly.   Days past, when thin, I met the sister who’s louder, more persistent and nasty. Thus the adjusted quote: “Inside every thin woman is a fat broad insisting to be let out.”

Truth be told, both voices duel bipolar style, in a constant battle to be heard, duking it out in the arena of my mind.

In this corner in the black trunks with tummy control panel, weighing in at sad pounds we have defending heavyweight champion… Fat Broad Deb. In the white trunks, the contender, weighing in at happy pounds, former lightweight champion… Skinny Broad Deb.

They argue nonstop…

Skinny voice: Tomorrow I will do 50 crunches, jog, eat all green foods. I will be healthy, fit and full of energy.

ice creamFat voice: If I can’t even have an ice cream cone with my grandchildren, what’s there to live for? What if I put green food dye on my ice cream?

Skinny voice: Food is for energy. I will use it like fuel saladand not eat what my body does not need. I am not hungry. I am satisfied.

Fat voice:  I’m starving and will surely die soon if I don’t have something decent to eat. I need satisfaction like fries, chocolate, cheese-cake. Without such pleasures, why get out of bed?

I promise, I do have a secret weapon that’s worked in the past and promises to work every time. I’ll get to that, really. But for now, back to the Whine Fest along with a short rant.

Now, can I honestly stare you in the computer screen and say “I don’t care what I look like?” No. But I can say, “healthy is the new hot, ” at least at my age. Lucky for me my hubby’s a dear, saying “ you’re just fat between fat3the ears.” Funny thing, ears are not what’s popping over my belt.

Speaking of acute belly abundance, every time I suck and stuff I think about the people who pay to have their fat removed via liposuction. Why? Have you ever thought about it? Duh! It’s a fuel source. People should be vying for my fat. It could provide heat through several winters, or, better yet, transform into a usable source of biofuel. We could take a road trip with a map tracking miles driven on our own fat. I can see the headlines now – WOMAN’S FLAB FUELS CROSS COUNTRY TRIP. Instead, we pay tons of cash to doctors who remove it with a beefed up Hoover vacuum. We don’t even get to take it home in a baggie. Just what do you think happens to those hefty bags of fat? Just saying. Rant over!

Jesting aside, both voices are liars and both speak some truth. It’s easy to find a healthy diet and exercise routine – they’re out there… pick one already. The problem is actually doing it. I talk a great diet and can chat about jogging while in the Yoga Lotus Pose. But the only times I have ever been successful at losing a significant amount of weight… God helps me. And, when I falter and the weight returns? He helps me again. No matter how many times I gain and lose like an accordion, He responds to my call for help.

That’s right. The secret is prayer. It works. I’ve tried to lose weight on my own for years, then I finally bring God on board and He transforms my thinking. I just can’t seem to go it alone. I still have to do the work, but He gives me the strength. prayer

If you were hoping for an easy fix, you just got it. Rest in Him. Pray. Trust. Have faith. He will encourage you even when there’s a sneaky inner voice whispering defeat in your ear while placing a heavy foot on the scale.

Praying through weight loss is certainly not a new concept. To help get you started I’ve posted a couple of great articles in agreement. I encourage you to check them out. Just remember, this is between you and God. He knows your relationship with food, what needs to change, where you are weak. Who better to have as a personal trainer?

Here is a good prayer to start.

A Prayer to Lose Weight (author unknown)

Guide me lord, as I strive to lose weight You are my light and my anchor, and with you I know all things are possible.

Help me this day to make healthy choices and give me the strength to fight against destructive cravings that negatively affect my health.

You said, “The LORD upholdeth all that fall, and raiseth up all those that be bowed down. As I bow before you today, raise me up help me towards my goals.

I have been taught that anything that replaces God is an idol. Help me to reject any unhealthy habit in which I seek false comfort. For you are my one true comfort and salvation.

In your name I pray, Amen.

http://thecovenantdiet.com/day-734-you-gotta-pray-through-for-a-break-through/

http://www.takebackyourtemple.com/supernatural-weight-loss-prayer/