pressing through boundaries and expecting to hear God
There it is, the hollow emptiness of silence. The slight sliding of your hand as pen scratches across a lined journal page. The pressure in your throat as you whisper silent pleas at God. Prayer can mean talking to God and then feeling only a cathartic release. You pray with expectation that God is present, but in a distant-sort-of-way. To a Lord who feels, maybe, intimidating, and a little aloof, a Lord who turns towards you because it is his duty to turn, not because he wants to.
I get it.

Praying can feel like a mighty lonely thing then. A desperate, sad affair. Because if we feel God is distant from us, but we pray anyway, it is because we are at the end of our rope and don’t know what else to do. We are in a fix; we are messed up; we need help and a sovereign Lord who will care. And we read in the Bible that he cares, he loves, he sacrifices, he is completely all-in in his love for us. But it can still feel like he is a God that stays on the pages in our Bible when we pray, when we are on our knees in our living room, when we are at the kitchen sink crying those help me prayers.
No matter how earnestly, in prayer, we choose our words; no matter how often we read the Bible; no matter how many songs we sing in worship or how dutifully we complete our homework for Bible study, God feels far away when we don’t hear him answer back when we pray.
The book of Hebrews teaches us of the faith of the persecuted, the hungry, the tired, the weak. It teaches us of the perseverance of faith, of continuing to pursue God and believe in his goodness and his presence even when it cannot be tangibly or even, readily, seen. Abel, Abraham, Enoch, Sarah, Jacob, Joseph, Moses . . . they all continued to have faith even though they, “commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect” (Hebrews 11: 39-40).
Further on in Hebrews we are reminded of the One who founds and perfects our faith. We learn that following God—believing he is with us and he loves us–is a decision. And with that decision is a desire to lay aside the sin that prevents us from living, praying, in faith.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:1-2).
And this gets me thinking: I wonder if confessing our sin precipitates the transformation of prayer life. I wonder if surrendering our sin, in faith, to God, is necessary for prayer to stop being static, rote, impersonal. I wonder if this is how prayer changes from talking to God to listening for him. I wonder if this is how prayer changes to conversation? After all, he is the Word come down.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (John 1:1).
The continually laying down our sin, letting our old self die, is neither fun nor easy. I know. But when I slow down and I get quiet. When I think about God and how I want to be more like Him, I want to confess the ways I have loved other things more than him. And when I confess, I am thinking about him, and when I think about him, I think about his demeanor and his face. I think about his character and his love. I think about how he wants to be with me, despite all that I’ve done. And that makes me want to be with him more, which prompts me to want to spend time with him and listen, and expect, because he loves me, he wants to speak.
And sometimes God’s speaking is not in words. And sometimes God’s speaking is not even a whisper I sense inside me. Sometimes his words to me–his voice–is his presence: his eyes, his arms spread out to greet me, his extended hand, his walking beside me, his catching each tear and staying with me, no matter what.
A conversation with God can be an unspoken one, for his words are more than words. They are life and light. They are beginning. The word is God (John 1:1).
So, how do we converse with God? How do we not?
His whispers to you, his presence with you, his ongoing conversation with you are ones he wants you never, ever, to forget. Are you excited to listen?
Do you think of prayer as a conversation? When you have prayed lately, has God felt close or far away?
For Loop Poetry Project, consider writing a poem on the topic of distance–distance in the physical sense or the emotional kind. Consider the topic of boundaries you place around people or ideas–borders and walls or wide-open spaces and possibilities. How do your expectations for a deeper relationship with God affect your relationships and your dreams? How do you view the world–and yourself and others–when you have a mindset of optimism and hope or one of pessimism and doubt? Or, what is it like to have both?

Share your poem below, in the comments. I can’t wait to read your words! And/or share it with the kind group of sister poets at Loop Poetry Project who are writing to heal. We would love to see you over there!
Love,
Jennifer
The Rebuilding
Who is to say how tall
the walls will be
when they crumble
around you, a steep
crashing until the sky shouts
them down. A desolate
promise to rebuild
the ruins of you until
light blankets every crumb,
every torn place pulled
from the wreckage.
You have the tools.
Pull yourself up now.
14 Comments
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Love this poem…its an encouraging one of dusting yourself off when when stumble or get pushed down, and getting back up and starting again…its never too late to start over. Especially with God on our side…
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Wow. I know that feeling. Beautiful.
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Hi Alberta, that is so true. This hasn’t been so easy for me to believe–when mistakes, for me, meant failure and shame. I am thankful He has rewritten that narrative for me.
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I never thought I would be here
In an unknown place
Where deep waters surround me
And storm clouds hover
Around every corner
Doesn’t every storm end?
Shouldn’t there be light that I can see?
You remind me that I am still
In the light
You are behind me
Beside me
And You go before me
You carry me
And You comfort me
I thought I reached a place where the light could no longer be found
But You reminded me that the light is within me
Lord, help me to carry your light into every single dark place around me
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Candice, I love the push and pull of emotions in this poem–the willingness to question. I am drawn in, feeling myself having the same questions–and then calmed and reassured by the journey of deeper understanding and hope as I read. Thank you.
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My outer eyes sees only the darkness
Which blocks the beauty of the inner eyes
The mask I wear protects me from the darkness that lurks and steals my joy
If only I can surrender to the egos desires which I know is a fight every minute
The light will break down those walls and barriers
If only… if only …
Sit silently and know thy self
All that is hidden within us …
Let go… let go… let go
It is I
I rest in this presence knowing … I was never the ego .. I was much more
Light breaks all
I breath life !!!!
Yes Yes Yes …. I am never alone!!!
Be still Know that I am God
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Beautiful poem , reminded me of this scripture Psalm 139 v , we are never alone , God has not forsaken us . We
You have searched me, Lord,
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, Lord, know it completely.
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Scharlene, I appreciate the transparency in this poem, the invitation to join with you in the wrestling. Thank you–and the conclusion of this poem is so powerful. What was it like for you to write it?
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Amen! It is NEVER too late. God redeems and he RESTORES far beyond what we could ever imagine.
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Yes!
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I know You are near,
But i feel so alone
You feel so far away
Off in a distant land
Taking care of more important things
My smallness overwhelms me
I look up
I see You , Lord!
I feel Your presence,
Little by little, I let You in
Peace overflows in me
It covers me like a warm blanket
On a cold night.
I realize it’s me
who blocks the way for You to enter
You are there for me no matter what
You love me despite my sin
My sin gets in the way all too often
Yet, You Never leave, Never
You always love
Keeping me safe and secure in Your arms
Sin is a theif – it’s a liar
It tells me I’m alone and You don’t care
But You do!
You love me oh so much
Thank You Jesus for covering me with Your blood
That protects me
Brings me back to life
Awaken my soul
Let my insecurities wither and die
Fill me wirh Your Light,
And take over my heart … My entire being
Fill me with Your ever-lasting Love.
I can make it through this day with You Lord Jesus.
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Nancy, your poem is my prayer. Thank you, sister. So good for me to read now.
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Here am I Lord – once again
It feels as though I come the same
Every day – and yet
You are the One and Only
You are the One I know hears
You are the One I know understands
You are the One I know never leaves me
You are the One I know I trust
I pray for wisdom, peace and guidance
While I may not hear you now
I know you show me in ways
That I will know when You show them to me
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Sue, I love the attitude of surrender in this poem. It is like taking a deep breath of fresh air. Thank you. What was it like for you to write it?