The Art of Prayer, Part 2

   "Then God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. Then he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day" and the darkness "night." And evening passed and morning came, marking the first day." Genesis 1:3-5

  Creation takes time. 

  Need I say more?

  I confess to finding it very difficult to put into words something that has evolved into an automatic pathway into my subconscious. It's hard to share how it feels to have the Holy Spirit inspire my inner creator. It's hard to explain how a Power beyond my own takes over the artistic process. It is utterly non-verbal.

  Surrender...Hmmm, that's a good word. Not in the sense of being vanquished nor is it giving up. Surrender is the act of letting go of control.

  Surrender is like a drawbridge. It's very human of me to sometimes block traffic by raising the bridge. 

  Creation doesn't only take time, it takes space.

  I have frequently shared how my kitchen table has become a sacred space. Because I am a visual person, pushing back one of the chairs is a tangible act of inviting Jesus to sit with me here. It serves as a reminder to give in to the process be it an artistic one or while writing.

  The Art of Prayer begins by preparing my heart for whatever may come.

  So, how do I do this?

  Sometimes it's using music. Sometimes it's playing a game on my phone. Sometimes it's something I have heard during Sunday's service that I want to pursue more. 

  Sometime it is an act of utter obedience to the call God places in my heart to come to the table.

  Sometimes I end up at the table because the emotions I am feeling are just too big and confusing.

  I guess the biggest element is simply having the desire to be here to hear God. 

  In the beginning of learning how to do this, I relied on many external practices to help me become still enough, to enable the bridge to be lowered. 

  In these precious moments, nothing else matters. 

  But realizing nothing else matters has taken practice, too. I have often felt guilty for sitting here, not accomplishing the day's to-do list. It took a serious examination of where and how the to-do list became more important than taking time in my sacred space. Culture, gender, history, the age of It's-gotta-be-NOW all played a role.

  The biggest breakthrough was coming to the understanding that I belong here, sitting with Jesus at my side.

  There's room here to play.

  There's room here for innocence.

  There's room here for my sinful self.

  There's room here for pride.

  And grace.

  And patience.

  But most of all, there's room here for brokenness.