Tears, prayer, power, and courage (and a foot pump, too)
I remember, not long after my first son was born, someone said to me, “Karen, you used to be so cold. Since you’ve become a mother, you cry at everything!” I think she meant it as a compliment, like I’d come so far in such a short time. It stung, and obviously, 12ish years later, it has stuck with me. But, I think perhaps it is true. Was true. Whatever. I’ve never been mega-highly-emotional, at least not in the classic sense of the Emotional Woman. But, motherhood has definitely softened me.
Maybe it’s genetic. My sister, who gave birth to her first child on August 1, said in response to a friend, “It’s true, I was not the one we thought would be all about “blessed motherhood,” but here I am, and I am indeed very blessed. Not sure how that happened, exactly.” That made me so happy.
Ah, I’m getting myself off-course.
What I meant to talk about was crying about something yesterday.
Being that I’m still me, who thinks about things way too much, I’ve thought about it, and have concluded that the thing I cry most over is this: People for whom I can see freedom. I can see courage. I can see a life that God has planned for them. I can see their future. Hope for them wells up in me. Expectation, even joy over future events, or at least potential future events. It comes to me in a instant. It’s a feeling, a knowing, and I sense it very strongly. It happens to me often when I’m praying for others. I think it might be a prophetic sense of that person’s potential, given to me by the Holy Spirit, which enables me to have immense faith as I pray for them, because I can SEE what God has in mind for His dear child.
BUT, here’s where I cry: They’re not walking in it. The life I see for them, they’re not living. They are depressed. Or angry. Or discouraged. Or fearful. Or frustrated, locked up, eyes closed. Lacking in hope. Any or all of those.
I can cry right now, thinking about a few people. Weep.
I get so angry — SO ANGRY — at the enemy, angry that he’s successfully sold them a bill of goods. Angry at his deceit. Angry at his lies. Angry that he’s been able to squash that precious person under his thumb, and keep them disabled from being the person who God has called them to be, and living the life God has planned for them.
It makes me angry and sad, but I also feel that hope of what is possible, because all things — ALL THINGS — are truly possible with our mighty God, creator of the universe, of things both infinite and infinitesimal, and a happiness, joy wells up in me, a profound sense of the Father’s love, and I cry.
I pray, with a growl in my voice, a growl of conviction, of feeling, of intensity, for the power of God to come wipe out the enemy’s plans for that person, and for God’s plan, and His power, and His love, and His hope, and His peace to reign instead, that His plans would triumph, and that the enemy would be given a swift and hard boot. I pray with the thought, with the picture of me, as the intercessor, plucking things from the heart of God, and depositing it into the mind and heart of the person for whom I’m praying, pulling it from God’s heart, and placing my hand on their chest, which then fills with His heart… an impartation.
I got a picture, yesterday: It was of one of those foot air pumps, and the person for whom I was praying was like a deflated air mattress. I just asked that I be allowed to be the person who steps on the pump, and that His breath, His life, His courage would pour into the deflated person, that their life would fill with His life, and that this would bring the person to effectiveness and fulfillment in Him. (Not that anyone really longs to be an air mattress, but everyone DOES long to have purpose in their life, and to do whatever it is that they are called to do, and that their lives be meaningful and count for something — and a deflated air mattress is not doing what it was “created” to do.)
But, even as I prayed, I was aware that He created the pump (so to speak), and He created the mattress, and He gives the power to man the pump. Everything is from Him, and through Him, and to Him — to God be the glory forever.