Daring to be Restless

In the midst of lavish promises of a beautiful future and restoration, Isaiah 62:6 stands out with the glaring ferocity of a warrior in a ballet class.   Verse five is frilly, beautiful, bubbly and sweet, ending with the words “As a man rejoices over his new wife, so your God will rejoice over you” (NCV), summoning with it memories of all the festive wedding celebrations we’ve been to over the years.   So, why then, without warning, does verse six warn, in a quiet and sterling voice, with a knobby finger pointed in our face and a steely penetrating gaze: “Jerusalem, I have put guards on the walls to watch .   They must not be silent day or night.   You people who remind the Lord of your needs in prayer should never be quiet?”   Or, as the Good News Bible has it, “On your walls, Jerusalem, I have placed sentries ; they must never be silent day or night.   They must remind the Lord of His promises and never let him forget them?”   Why, after promises of a wedding festival, should su

I have to admit that prayer has been a struggle for me in recent months, more like a year really.   As I’ve studied the Word and worked to really believe more of what I am, I’ve been challenged not to doubt when I pray, to quit asking for things that God has already said are mine (how annoying is that, to have someone ask you for something six times when you’ve already given it to them?); I’ve learned that prayer is supposed to be filled with longing and desire (for Mark 11:24 says, “Whatsoever things you desire when you pray …”), and that after I pray, it is my responsibility to believe that I have received and to celebrate – even if I can’t see the answer yet.   That’s what faith is.   Throughout this journey of painful reevaluation, I’ve found myself so convicted of all the unscriptural ways I’ve prayed in my life that my routine devotional prayer times have kind of fallen by the wayside.   Despite this discouragement, God continues to teach me.   This week, it was quite by “a

I have to admit that prayer has been a struggle for me in recent months, more like a year really.   As I’ve studied the Word and worked to really believe more of what I am, I’ve been challenged not to doubt when I pray, to quit asking for things that God has already said are mine (how annoying is that, to have someone ask you for something six times when you’ve already given it to them?); I’ve learned that prayer is supposed to be filled with longing and desire (for Mark 11:24 says, “Whatsoever things you desire when you pray …”), and that after I pray, it is my responsibility to believe that I have received and to celebrate – even if I can’t see the answer yet.   That’s what faith is.   Throughout this journey of painful reevaluation, I’ve found myself so convicted of all the unscriptural ways I’ve prayed in my life that my routine devotional prayer times have kind of fallen by the wayside.   Despite this discouragement, God continues to teach me.   This week, it was quite by “a

                As we’ve drawn closer to Christmas this year, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about Matthew 25:31-46, the parable of the sheep and the goats.   I’ve been haunted by the words that Jesus says in verses 41-43, “Go away from me.   You will be punished.   Go into the fire that burns forever that was prepared for the devil and his angels.   I was hungry, and you gave me nothing to eat.   I was thirsty, and you gave me nothing to drink.   I was alone and away from home, and you did not invite me into your house.   I was without clothes, and you gave me nothing to wear.   I was sick and in prison, and you did not care for me … (verse 45) I tell you the truth, anything you refused to do for even the least of my people here, you refused to do for me.”   And then, perhaps more chilling, the words of Ezekiel 16:49-50a, which, talking about the people of Soddom and Gomorrah, say, “They were arrogant and spoiled; they had everything they needed and still refused to help