Well, I spent three days in the belly of the great fish, and I've now been urped onto the shore. My circumstances haven't changed, in fact, by earthly perspectives they may have even deteriorated, but I'm not going there. My prayer perspective has changed, and that is good.
The biggest change has been in my perspective of to whom I am praying. At times in our adoption process, I have literally BEGGED and pleaded for God to do something. I was doing this earlier this week. During my fast, God revealed to me that when I was begging, I was approaching him like a distant king, one who does not really know what his subjects are going through, or necessarily cares. It was like I was groveling for mercy at the feet of one who could care less what happens to me. This is what I was doing, this was the God I was praying to in certain moments. God told me, "Why don't you talk to me like I'm your friend who has influence and ability to help you in your need? Stop begging me like I don't care, and talk to me like you would a friend who can help you."
That's not all he had to say about this approach. He also told me, "Come crawl on your father's lap and tell me what you want." My relationship with God has always been based on him being my father. I have fully embraced that type of relationship with him. But I realized that I often hold back telling him things I want, because I don't really have the faith that he's willing to give what I ask. He said to me, "Come here and tell me exactly what you want, because it could be that I want to give you what you ask for, and I can't give it if you don't ask." The feeling was like a Christmas list - I want to give you exactly what you want because I love you, so tell me what you want.
So I told him. Everything. I specifically asked for the whole kit and kaboodle. I prayed for perfection. No holds barred. I told my influential friend, my loving father who wants to give, I told him everything. I made every request. I even complained. And argued. And questioned. And pleaded - to my close friend, not a distant king. And I cried. And I expressed every concern, confusion, frustration, and disappointment I thought of, and I laid it all on the line. And I continue to hear my friend and father ask me, "Will you wait here with me? Will you be here with me? Even when it seems impossible, will you remain in my hope, trust in my goodness, believe in my power? Will you stay?"
Even as I type this I'm hearing the verses, "if you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be given you." (John 15:7) See, I think he's calling me to be a true fan, not a bandwagon believer. As a Cubs fan, I've experienced heartbreak and frustration, but I'm always faithful to cheer for them above all others. There is no other team for me. It drives me crazy when these bandwagon Cubs fans come out of the woodwork during their good years, and bash them in the off years. How much can those fans possibly mean to the team? I guarantee not even remotely as much as the faithful who have stood through the dry spells and the disappointment.
He wants me to remain, to trust, to hope, to dream, to believe in his goodness, to be his fan above all others, whether it feels, looks, or sounds good or not. And you know, at the end of this week, after my fast was over, sitting on the bathroom floor in our bedroom, after crying and praying for about an hour, I realized something - I'm there.
As hard as it is to do, and as ridiculous as it might seem, I'm choosing to believe that he will do this miracle. Nothing on this earth right now tells me to do this. In fact, this earth does nothing but speak death to this place. But Jesus is life, not death. His kingdom is not of this world. His ways are higher than my ways. He is hope for the hopeless. And he tells me, why not try this out? Why not ask me for a miracle and then stick around to see if I do it?
The challenge is overcoming my flesh. My fleshly brain has trouble wrapping my head around the miraculous. But Jesus is my friend and he understands this (he himself came here and used a fleshly brain). So he's going to help me. The other challenge is overcoming my pride. I don't like to fail and I don't like to look foolish. I'm afraid to say "God's going to do a miracle" because what if he doesn't. Well, to say the least, I just have to get over that fear and that pride. I have to give it over to Jesus, because how can he do miraculous things for those who have too much fear and pride to ask for them?
So, here's hoping for a miracle. From where I sit right now, God has until February 1, 2009, to change everything
(eta - this is the date our postponement contract expires). I'm believing and mostly REALLY REALLY hoping, he will do it (I have NO DOUBT he is able!). In all this I know that on February 2, 2009, I could end up devasted, flat on my face, and grieving. But so what? I may look like a fool, but I'll be a fool for Christ, and that I will count as a privilege. There will be no regrets, only resolve. Resolve to believe that he is still good, he is still loving, and he is still for us. Resolve to continue following him to the sweet end. Resolve to continue asking for miracles and to still believe he will answer prayer.
I will remain. With no regrets. Only resolve.
