Dangerous Prayers

I feel it stirring within me. This troubling thing that haunts my thoughts and keeps me awake at night. A weight of darkness and sadness that invades me. It makes my insides squirm with discomfort. You should know that I am thankful for it. The reminder that not all is well in this world keeps me praying, keeps me in the place of knowing that I am incapable to change anything on my own.

The reality of my impotence solidifies each day. Every challenge, every mistake, every horrible thing I see and say and hear and think reminds me of the depravity of humanity. We are all lost in the dark without the light saving grace of Jesus Christ.

I am desperate for the love of Christ to change me. I am desperate for it to change you too. It burdens me. It burns in me. This has brought me to the point of praying with a heart of surrender. This has brought me to the place of uttering dangerous prayers.

Dangerous are the prayers that plead for God’s will to be done in my life and the lives of others. And the heart behind such pleadings holds no stipulations of how that request will be answered. To whatever extreme God needs to use for those prayers to be answered, I am not only in agreement, but I am petitioning God to make it come to pass.

I see in this a sacred and intimate worship where the God of heaven and earth takes his rightful place in our lives. I see a heart that cries, “God I love you first and I trust you most with the these precious parts of me. Your will God, not mine. Your ways God, too high for me to comprehend, not the limits of mine.’

Jesus himself prayed that the cup of suffering would pass by him, but he also prayed for God’s will to be done in his life. His prayer was both human and heavenly. No one desires to go through suffering for the sake of going through suffering, but a heart surrendered to the will of God welcomes the means by which he answers our prayers. And as Jesus took his last breath on the cross, I can imagine it felt a lot like hopeless defeat. But in the losing of life the victory of the world was won.

Fear. Fear is what always keeps me from praying dangerous prayers. Fear that I won’t like the methods God uses. Fear that I will end up hurting, losing, or dying in the end. But Jesus says, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me.” Follow me to the garden of surrender, follow me to the hill of death. Lay down your life, lay down your comfort and your pleasure and your job. Lay down your convenience and your dreams and your desires and your money and your success. Lay it down, pick up that cross and follow me.

I don’t want to be lukewarm. I don’t want to be satisfied with the casual Christianity that has taken over the American church. I don’t want to be okay with being a good person, as if there is such a thing. I don’t want to miss out on seeing the faithfulness and glory of God that comes through the realization that I am completely dependent on him, and he alone is worthy of my worship. I want my prayers to reflect that.

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” Open my eyes to your power, increase the awareness of my lack.

When the end result of our prayer is in line with God’s word, then we can TRUST him to fulfill the promise of his goodness. And he will answer our prayer for the glory of his name. Our lives were made for his pleasure and his worship, not for ours. Paul writes in Romans, “For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen.” Our lives, our prayers are wasted breath if they do not speak of the one who created them. Our lives, our prayers reveal what we love first, what we love most.

Is it you, God? Do I love you most?

We must want what God wants for us more than what we want for ourselves. And that may not feel good, this answering. It may look very much like the opposite of what we are asking. It may feel a lot like losing or dying, and we all know how it hurts to crucify the things we hope and dream and desire. But we don’t have to be afraid to ask. We don’t have to fight for control over the ways our God will answer. Our fear is found in the moments that we do not trust that God’s goodness is good enough for us.

Grow our faith, God. Teach us who you are. Let our lives speak of a God who is good and faithful, kind and loving, just and merciful, powerful and wise. Make us brave enough to trust your wisdom in answering our prayers. We are weak and fearful people, but we want to be a generation known for our strong and courageous devotion to you. Don’t let us be warm. Light us on fire! Let us burst into flame so the world can see how we burn with the hope of you. Let it be true of us, God. For your glory alone. Amen.