So today she decided to trust ❤️

This morning, as most mornings, I sipped my coffee and reached toward the Father with my heart/soul/mind in prayer. Then, as most mornings, I reached for my internet connection for a devotional reading and scripture meditation. 

The totally different devotional and readings both focused on trust.  (I've found it fascinating how unrelated areas tend to merge into cohesiveness when in God's hands...but that's a rabbit trail to follow some other time.)

And as I pondered trust, my thoughts went to our children when they were small.  How they trusted their daddy.  You know the heart-stopping trust that moms witness that cause knots in our necks.  Where, from the top of a boulder, that our 4 years old had painstaking climbed, he yells "Catch me Daddy!" and leaps. Into the air. With gravity, full force and still in effect, with screams of joy and laughter abundant, to be caught by their loving daddy and swung about, and sometimes tossed back up into the air! All the while Mom, with neck stiff, mouth open, ready to reach for the first aid kit, watches. Fears. Hurts with anticipated injury that never happens.

That kind of child-like trust has no power of its own.  Stay with me here.  I will try to explain.  The child launching himself into the air may have thought in their child mind, that they somehow had the power to turn their daddy's arms toward them to catch them safely.  They may have considered this manipulation to be their own strength mysteriously working.  Their trust in their daddy is total, yes, yet somehow originating within them, and so, as they call out, daddy turns, as they launch out, daddy reaches, as they fly, daddy catches. They call, launch and fly and daddy magically does what is needed. As if the child's call invisibly moved him. The child doesn't realize their daddy is responding in his own power not theirs.

But all it takes for that trust to be broken, is for daddy to not respond as anticipated.

Then the first aid kit is rushed, the wounds painfully tended, trust broken, while mom glares at both child and dad for thinking such a thing was wise.

Taking this thought into my view of trust and prayer, I realized that many times I reach out to Abba in imagined personal strength and power. As if my calling somehow manipulates a creator into action because I raised my tiny voice in prayer. My power sent into Heaven 'causes' our all mighty God to move. I have been taught this. Whether on purpose or not. I can 'boldly go before the throne of God' with my problems and if I bug Him enough times I can manipulate Him into catching me before I crash to the ground. If He doesn't catch me, I somehow feel I didn't yell loud enough, long enough, or maybe my God just thought I needed to hit the ground this time.

This, I realized, is.not.trust. It is my own 'power-filled' desires wanting their own way so much that I turn them toward my loving Father anticipating He will catch me because I called.  MY own power. Not His. And when He 'answers' differently than I anticipate and it hurts, I have comforting, well-meaning believers that either explain away the answer with 'sometimes God says no', or joins me in glaring at a Father that allows such a thing to happen, or shakes their head at the thought of me even thinking trying such a thing in the first place, and me sitting there feeling unworthy, weak, and confused.  And the fear sets in.

So the next time I pray, I will use my manipulative power by hedging any outcome on 'if it be Your Will'.  That way if I hit hard and hurt, the blame is on God.  Not my prayer. Because there is power in prayer, right? And if I trust in prayer, it works, right?

No.

Prayer doesn't work.

God works.

And His ways are not my ways.  His thoughts are not my thoughts. But through prayer I gently learn to trust His strange ways and thoughts.  Trust In His power.  Realize that, as I pray He IS listening to my tiny voice, and KNOWS my words before I say them.  He KNOWS my needs before I ask and He knows exactly what is to be done that will bring HIM the most glory. And He loves me with a love that cannot be comprehended. I am accepted as I am and totally understood.

Somehow in the mix of His ways, His thoughts, His power, His glory, and His love, my prayer is marinated and holy refined. My needs met in His wisdom and my struggles calmed because of a trust in Him that releases any thought of control or manipulation. 

Prayer changes me. Not my circumstances.

If I depend on the changing of my circumstances to gauge whether my prayers were effective or not, I am, by my own power, trying to control God.

If I am changed because of my prayers, however, and my life begins to reflect the love of God in my words and actions toward others, then...in His power...my prayers are effective. His power can flow through the love He gives to me. Fear is gone. Trust is total.

So today she decided to be friendly ❤️

A brain surgeon and a proctologist were very good friends. Over coffee they discussed a lot about what they have in common. Both loved helping people up and down. Both were very smart, though who was smarter depended on your point of view. Both improved the lives of their patients to the best they could and both both grieved when they could not help. This was the highs and lows that came with their jobs. They held similar educational backgrounds and could relate to each other's profession with respect, even though they were at opposite ends of the spectrum, so to speak.

Can we apply this friendship to our lives? More specific, can we apply this to the pain we feel in our lives? Hold that thought...

If I asked the question "Who out there is living with some sort of personal pain?" whose hand would not be raised?

So,  assume all hands were raised, look around. Some of us suffer physically. Some mentally. Some spiritually. Some emotionally.

If we think about it, in our pain, we have other things in common. We are all alive. We are all grieving our pain in some way, yet we are all working on relieving that pain or trying to make sense of it.  But there are differences.  Some of us are down right smart from researching pain. Some are just beginning, though. Some have learned to overcome areas of pain and others have given in, yet survive. Whatever....the common thing is we are all learning something!

But we are all working from differing spectrums, so to speak.  Still holding on to the doctor friends example? You will get it.

Being individuals with our own very personal nerves involved with pain, we each handle pain differently. Some are, like their personalities, gentle. Some are, like their general mindset, determined. Some are, honestly, exhausted. 

So when we look at another person's pain, why do we think we can fully understand them or expect them to fully understand us?

Would it not be better to meet on common ground? And lower our defensive tendencies a bit?

We are all in pain. We will all screw up dealing with others in pain. Others will screw up dealing with us in our own pain. It's just a matter of time.

Whether we suffer from depression, migraines, PTSD, church phobia, self hatred, broken arm, slipped disc, toothache, or hangnails, consider that we are all connected in this journey. 

When I sympathize with your depression from the pain in my hangnail, we may not be able to relate deeply, but if we soften our expectation of being totally understood, and turn our thoughts toward each other to extend what comfort we can to ease that pain, would that not bring about something good from our pain?  It may be small, but it is good...right?

And if we receive that sympathy without judging the other persons level of understanding our own pain, just receive it, will not a glimmer of good shine to encourage us?  It may be a little encouragement...but it is good too....right?

If each of us find a little good, and give a little good, will it make a difference?  Could it be the beginning of a friendship?

"You do not fully understand brain surgery," said the brain surgeon.

"You do not fully understand proctology," said the proctologist.

"But I know you love helping people," said the brain surgeon.

"And I know you do too," said the proctologist.

Then they finished their coffee, shook hands, smiled at each other and realized even opposite ends of the spectrum were not as far apart as they thought.