So, I talked about how I had a prayer journal last time. I’ve been continuing with it now. It’s really nice to do. It forces me to really think about how I’m feeling because I’m seeing it right before my eyes. I end up erasing sentences that don’t make sense or that don’t reflect what I mean them too. I refine them and make sure that they are what I mean and then I pray them.

We talked about prayer in bible study this summer dealing with Nehemiah and how he spent a lot of time preparing for his prayer to God. Nehemiah 1:4 “When I heard these things, I sat down and wept. For some days I mourned and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven.”

Nehemiah put a lot into his prayer, combining it with mourning and fasting. In bible study, I referred to a prayer being a like a poem. This really hit me. I spend some time with my poetry and refine it until i get it to say exactly what I mean. I find that I don’t really do that with many of my prayers. They are often quick or immediate and I usually end up saying, “ugh, you know what I mean, Lord.” I don’t really sculpt my prayer into something that is beautiful before God. I usually just blab on about who knows what.

Perhaps prayers, too, can be offerings to God. I realize that there are still times where prayer can’t be refined. Even Nehemiah makes a quick prayer before answering the King. But why can’t I take the time to make a prayer or two beautiful?

I found this in a prayer journal from awhile ago. July 23rd of some year…

A Friend. Jesus.

Lord,

Thank you for friends. They give me so much hope. They push me and encourage me to do things that I would never do on my own. They’re an amazing gift, and when they put their trust in you my spirit grows as well. Today God, I ask you to be here as our friend. Backing us up, encouraging our steps, and never giving up on us. Lord I love your power, your wisdom, and your love. Throw your grace, your eternal grace, down upon each and everyone of our lives. Let us be The Way today. Let each sole on earth know that we are disciples of you Jesus, and let them see the love you offer so willingly today.

In Christ Jesus’ name,

Amen

I should write a few more prayers down…

Part I

Simon was a young boy a long while ago. He was a skinny lad with unfixed hair and his auntie would never miss out on a chance to tell him so. He accomplished what many only dreamed about. He was at the top of his game with school work. Every assignment came back to him marked with an A. He hung out with the right people, in the right places, and never did the wrong things. No drugs, no alcohol, no bad grades, no violations, just… no trouble. Yet, this is all anyway had seen. Simon was unhappy. It seems his story, even though it included many accomplishments, paralleled the tragic state of everyone else.

The hallways filled as the last bell rang. The multitude of students rejoiced over the conclusion of another hellish day of school, but Simon’s heart sank. He attempted to delay the end by hanging out with his friends in the school lobby after hours, but one by one they left until Simon eventually had to make his way home. The dread that filled his sole was unbearable. The further away from school he walked the more Simon wore away, until all that remained was fearful mass named Thomas.

As Thomas opened the door to the house he could already hear the screams and shouts from inside. Building up what little energy was left inside him, Thomas swiftly entered and jetted towards his quarters. It wasn’t long before the Scream reached Thomas’ isolated chamber. The damp room turned to ice as the Scream entered commanding him to work.

The Scream was terrifying almost three times the size of Thomas. No one stood up to the Scream without suffering severe consequences. Yet for months now, Thomas had been undermining the Scream, lashing back at him without him knowing. He had been plotting a way to escape the dominion of the Scream.

Thomas began his work and the Scream went to relax on his throne. It wasn’t the work that bothered him, or perhaps not even the Scream, there seemed to be something else bothering Thomas’.

After Thomas completed his daily requirements from the Scream, he slid into his moldy covers trying to rest before the next day. Sleep was nearly impossible, for the Scream entered his dreams each night waking him. What little rest Thomas got was uncomfortable; he woke every morning with a racing heart and sweaty brow. The whistle blew at dawn and Thomas, without delay, readied himself to be Simon again. But something was going to be different about this day. Simon had developed a plan to murder Thomas.

to be continued…