I rolled out of bed this morning, groggy from a restless night {again}. I don’t sleep well in general, but especially when my husband is out of town. And as a pilot he is out of town often. So I wasn’t exactly surprised (only a bit perplexed) when I immediately noted my right arm and neck were sore.
First thought: Sleeping is volatile when you get old. This is clear evidence I am old.
My next thought, however, brought some semblance of relief when I remembered I had thrown a baseball in the backyard with my son for an hour yesterday. The offender wasn’t age. It was my general state of being out of shape.
What comfort.
Baseball season is nigh upon us and my son has been out of the game for about eight months due to a wonky appendix deciding to peace out and a move to a new city leaving us hunting for connections. He loves the sport, but watching him at tryouts last week I could tell he’s in need of some conditioning.
Aren’t we all in one way or another?
I wrote a post a hot minute ago about my fledgling prayer life. Prayer has been a consistent struggle of mine since I was a kid. Like, if God is sovereign then why waste the time asking for stuff? He’s gonna do the things He does. Imma just ride these waves, yo, and save my breath.
(This approach is not recommended.)
But about four months ago, I had some experiences that served as “ah-ha!” moments, spiritual epiphanies if you will, and since that time I have begun praying consistently again. And here’s what I have found:
My heart is sore and in need of conditioning.
When you’ve gone as many years as I did without exercising this area of your spiritual life, it pulls some muscles when you start back up.
It’s like when you go to the gym all gung-ho after the New Year, ready to tackle those fitness goals. You give it all you’ve got on day one… and then you can’t walk for an entire week because, while it felt empowering at the time, you for sure should not have run three miles straight after having barely done more than walk to the mailbox and back for the last six months. Diving headfirst in unbridled faith can leave a similar mark.
My heart is as sore from stretching the spiritual muscle of prayer.
I have some requests that I have brought to God and the answer is still in queue. It feels like staring at the spinny-rainbow-wheel-of-doom on your computer while it computes but you have no idea how long this could take. My instinct is to revert back to that previous mentality of, “See, this is a waste of my time.”
So I stretch the muscle and pray again.
And again.
I have some people I love deeply making decisions without ears to hear and I bring them before the Lord knowing full well they may still continue on this path and I may lose friends in the process. My instinct is to throw up my hands and say, “To each their own! I’ll just mind my own business.” Old habits die hard.
So I stretch the muscle and pray again.
And again.
My car has been in the shop for FIVE MONTHS and after two different shops running every diagnostic test known in the automotive universe, it was decided that our vehicle (that we have owned for less than two years) was in need of replacement of a small part you may have heard of called an engine. I’m not sure how familiar you are with the cost of engines these days, but it basically cost us everything except rights to our firstborn child. So, after picking up my car with said new engine and AGAIN ending up stranded on the side of the road due to lack of oil in the engine less than 80 miles later because of another undiagnosable malfunction, I found myself praying. Because throughout this mind-numbingly expensive process I have by God’s good grace and mercy maintained my cool with every twist and phone call. But I’ll be honest that my patience is about as low as the oil level on my car’s dried out dipstick at this point. My instinct is to dive head first into cynicism, “You can’t trust anyone and everything is bad.”
So I stretch the muscle and pray again.
And again.
Because sometimes answers take longer than we’d hoped and we can’t change other people’s hearts no matter how hard we wish we could and by this point these mechanics not only know me by name but they know I love Jesus and He’s been the explanation for my kindness in the midst of this highly stressful sitch. So as the trial waxing on, I find myself needing Jesus more and more to help me not completely lose my sh!t.
Prayer. Again.
Like it or not, prayer is volatile.
One minute, it’s bringing us peace as we open our hands in faith that God is in control and the next it’s provoking emotions in us we thought we had conquered long ago. It tests our patience as we wait and yet strengthens our trust that God hears. It often leads to more questions than answers and yet somehow comforts us in the conundrum of human existence.
Prayer is an arduous part of spiritual conditioning because it takes consistent practice yet rarely offers immediate results.
Yesterday, I tossed the ball with my boy child in the driveway (at a safe distance from the loaner car because I don’t know if prayer will be enough if a rogue baseball dents a bumper or shatters a windshield, Jesustakethewheel). I challenged him to chase after it. Throw harder. Be ready. Hustle. By the time we were done, he was a little closer to his old self. He was out there again today and he’ll be out there tomorrow by God’s grace. (I am not because: pulled shoulder muscle.) I would put money on it that by the end of this season, he’ll be stronger and more skilled than he was last season.
Today, I had some moments of mental overwhelm and I decided to get alone and pray. Something Ashley from a year ago would have rolled her eyes at. I prayed for hope. I prayed for peace. I prayed for God to move. And I prayed for Him to help my unbelief.
I plan to do the same thing tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
Because, as it turns out, the answer to overcoming the volatility of prayer is not quitting it all together as I had previously tried.
It’s practicing it all the more.
Really appreciate your honest and raw experience with prayer. I think more of us are where you’re at as well friend. Keep being your authentic awesome self and the joy is in the journey
I loved reading this, Ashley. Your contemplations are so relatable. May we keep praying. 🤍