praying for the weather.

Let me tell you something-- God works that field. He works it. Like an inappropriate reference. Works. it. We have got to start doing more field-praying as a church.

Last night was another ILA prayer-walk over the Springfield Underground. I am so enthusiastically a fan of the last one that I was worried that tonight wouldn't pan. That I'd get back out there, and get warmed up on the weather, cruising towards salvations, only to find that it was just a special thing, last Saturday. Just a one-hit wonder in the prayer-walkin' world. A powerful moment is all.

Again, I began in a smile. I didn't mention this about Saturday, but the sight of so many people heading out in prayer makes me smile. It's weird, yeah. Goofy. Something other than normal, to have people lifting their arms to heaven, pacing a giant snake bed. But my heart feels its goodness. Where my mind says, "What the h are these people doing?", my heart says "Yes, Lord, this is good." So I smiled, and began to pray.

Prayer and I have a funky relationship. I've struggled heavily with prayer, for years, and the last ten months have been no exception. For awhile, I felt as though I was forcing prayer. That I was creating a God in my mind, through prayer. I gave that up, realizing that I cannot "create" Him, He exists. Done. Then I stopped praying for specific things at all, and just gave really short prayers. "Your will be done." Then I thought maybe I could view prayer as a casual conversation. Which is fine, and maybe good in ways, but resulted in a lot of prayers like this: "Look, God, I know you're going to do what you want to do, but I would really like it if you could..." I've come to more-or-less okay prayers over the last few weeks, but have still felt odd asking for the basics, and the specifics. James River has no such qualms.

As I sat out there, trusting God that I'd not be eaten by a cottonmouth, something changed. I began to pray, and heard the familiar refrain, "...but I know you might not do that, and if so, that's cool too..." and got interrupted, "There's obedience in the asking."

There's obedience in the asking.

I've always buffered my prayers with "you might not," and "whatever you want to do," and "but if it doesn't turn out," thinking that I'm the smarter for recognizing that sometimes, things don't go as we pray. As though these people don't know that. Like they are ignorant to the fact that though they pray in belief, God chooses otherwise sometimes. Of course, they know. And they've known what I haven't. There's obedience in the asking. So I began to ask.

Only...I'm not used to asking for things. Big, immeasurable, diffuse things, like wisdom, and love, and grace--certainly. Small things, like sunny skies, and traffic, and test grades--no, not really. So I started to ask, but quickly found myself in the same pattern. "Father, please touch hearts regardless of the weather." No, wait. What do you really want? Wait, what do I really want? Does God care?

My mind drifted to a half-dozen scriptural references to God's attention to prayer, and I realized...He wants to know what I want. I don't often pray for the specifics because those prayers aren't always answered, but there's obedience in the asking, and I have a God who cares to know. There's love in the asking. I don't understand the entirety of His plan. I don't know why He lets some people fall into financial ruin, and others die terrible deaths, and others live happily ever after. But He cares. So, I sat in that field, and took freedom in what I really wanted for the people I was praying for. It felt good.

Yet, even as I stepped forward, I felt resistance. The weight of my habits sat over my prayers, and I had to fight the urge to back down, to say, "Well, God, regardless of the weather..." I felt doubt in my heart. I felt silly for asking. And I realized.

My reticence to pray for the "small stuff" has been a power grab. In dismissing His call to pray over the details of my life, instead deciding that He might not answer this, and might not answer that, so I'd best not bring it--I've been choosing. I've been holding on to things, deciding that I know better. That I'm too smart to ask. As though He can't see the cards I'm holding.

To ask, knowing that His plan is bigger, and better, is humbling. To ask, knowing that whatever He gives will be perfect eternally, is awe-inspiring. To ask, without doubt and fear, is freeing.

So I asked. Smiling, I asked for 82 degrees, with a slight wind out of whichever direction these people like their wind coming from, and no rain.