Kneeling in Prayer

 “Come let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.” Psalm 95:6-7

Two wives were mending trousers, each mending her preacher-husband’s pants. One said, “My poor James. He is so discouraged in his work. He’s thinking about resigning and finding a regular job. It seems nothing goes right for him.”

            The other wife said, “My husband says just the opposite. He is enthused. It seems like the Lord is closer to him than ever before.” A hushed silence fell as they continued to mend the trousers—one patching the seat and the other repairing the knees.

            My parents knelt with my sister and me at bedtime and we said goodnight to God, and we learned bowing by example. My mother often prayed on her knees through the day, too, behind a closed door. We lived in one of those houses that had an old fashioned key latch, with key hole. When she went in and closed the door, I peeked in and saw her kneeling in front of the toilet, hands clasped in prayer, no doubt pleading to make it through another day with her four little rascals.

            It's one of my most vivid memories of sneaking peeks at her through the keyhole of that old-fashioned doorplate, the kind unlocked by a skeleton key. God provided my mother with rest and re-creation and will also help any praying mother err on the side of sanity and love. My mother has a new home as of yesterday morning. Dad and three children were with her as she took her last breath. What a privilege to have been there at that moment and to have been her child.  

            The postures of prayer mentioned in the Bible are numerous — standing, lying face down on the ground, kneeling, hands lifted toward the heavens, eyes turned heavenward, and more. In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians he mentions his prayer posture, “I kneel before the Father” (3:14).

            Our culture is an ocean and several centuries removed from bowing before monarchs. A bow or curtsy indicated that the performer would defer to the person of higher rank, whether they wanted to or not. In private, when knees are bowed to God, there’s more involved than coerced obedience.

            A story of a father and son demonstrates forced compliance. Before seat belt laws, a traveling dad said to his pre-school son who was standing in the seat of their car, “Sit down, son.”

            The child didn’t sit down, but after several more verbal commands he did. Finally seated, the boy looked at his dad and said, “But I’m still standing on the inside.”

            In private, when knees are bent in prayer, it’s a voluntary act. When I was a teenager, I strayed from kneeling, but later on in life, I began praying on my knees again.

            The first few weeks of adopting that prayer pose were difficult. For me, it meant allowing God to look into all the rooms in my heart, including the locked ones that had skeleton keys.

            When kneeling, we’re physically closer to the earth, but somehow our hearts move to the courts of heaven. Try kneeling in prayer this week. Of course, you just might have to patch pant-knees but meanwhile God will be tailoring your life from above.

            Index card verse for week 34: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

            Contact Cathy at www.cathymessecar.com  

    

Pardon My Wrinkles

Annnnnnd the book winner for May is KAREN, notified at her blog and here.

Leave a comment or send an email to [writecat at consolidated dot net] and I’ll enter you name into the June drawing for either The Stained Glass Pickup ~ Glimpses of God’s Uncommon Wisdom or A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts ~ Stories to Warm Your Heart and Tips to Simplify Your Holiday

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“Discipleship Journal” reported that the “Oxford Junior Dictionary” cut a few words out of the current edition, to reflect Britain’s “modern, multicultural, and multi-faith society.” They cut religious and historical words such as: sin, Bishop, empire, and nun. Some of the modern words that replaced them were: blog, broadband, MP3 player, voicemail, and celebrity.

“Sin is out, celebrity is in,” DJ magazine’s lead words touted. That concept reflects the mindset of some of the world. Much of what God deems sinful is celebrated in society. Sin wrinkles lives, lives that can be pardoned only by the perfect Jesus Christ.

I ordered new sheers for my guest bedroom double windows, and when I opened the package out slid the long, filmy panels. They were remarkably smooth, with the only creases being along the folds due to packaging.

A slip of paper floated to the floor as I looped the sheers over my arms, readying to thread them onto the curtain rods. I thought the manufacturer’s note might contain washing instructions. Written in bold print across the top of the paper was “PARDON MY WRINKLES.”

I’ve been thinking about those words since then and about all the wrinkles folk get as they pass through life, wrinkles caused by poor judgments and giving into selfish desires. Those happenings make dents, folds, and impressions on a person. All of us sin, and none of us are without resulting wrinkles.

I think about the folk Jesus’ holy character attracted. Like us, they had a variety of sin-issues, past and present. In Jesus’ immediate group of disciples was tax collector, Matthew, who had cheated citizens, and Judas, known to steal from the love offerings.

Others were drawn to the purity and joy seen in Jesus, and sought to have the creases smoothed out, to be done with sin. Immoral women and men sought Jesus’ forgiveness and received a permanent pressing — forever relief from wrongs done and help to avoid future wrongs.

People near Jesus also had subtle sins, too. James and John were called Sons of Thunder because of quick tempers. Martha put protocol before people. Thomas struggled with doubt. Peter wanted to correct situations with a sword.

The “Oxford Junior Dictionary” is wrong. Sin is here to stay because it infects people with alarming regularity. The only thing that changed about sin happened over 2,000 years ago, when a perfect Savior came to save a fallen world.

You can’t just take “sin” out of the dictionary and hope it goes away. It can only be removed because, “God so loved the world that he sent his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall never perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

If only the whole world could earnestly plead to God, “Pardon my wrinkles,” then sin could disappear from dictionaries.

The Foggy Cross

On a journey from New Mexico, my husband and I watched for Christmas décor at homes and businesses. Most of our travel took place during the day, and 400 miles of the trip we were surrounded by fog, a mix thick as clouds or at other times thin as tea kettle steam.

When night fell, one display glowed high above the interstate. As we neared a radio tower the hazy outline of a cross appeared. Even parallel with the lighted cross, it did not emerge “midnight-clear.” The cross remained shrouded by fog.

The fogged in cross made me think of the mystery that often accompanied The Christ on his earth-journey. Wonder surrounded Jesus’ birth. Born of a virgin, who conceived by the Holy Spirit, Jesus came into the world through God’s plan, not man’s desire.

Luke told how Mary treasured the events of Jesus’ birth and “pondered them in her heart” (2:19). Prophet Simon said to Mary that Jesus would cause the “thoughts of many hearts to be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul, too” (Luke 2:35)? Was she ever unsure, uncertain?

Choreographed by God, Jesus’ birth announcement filled a nighttime sky. The Bethlehem welcoming committee hurried to town from a pasture not a palace. God’s Son didn’t have a silver rattle. Instead, he rested in a hay-manger.

The forecast didn’t clear much when Jesus began his ministry. A corrupt government had caused Jewish citizens to long for a political deliverer. Office holders didn’t want a newbie-leader in government or synagogue. Jesus cleared the air a little when he said, “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36).

By the time of Jesus’ crucifixion, a small group began to comprehend, to see in Jesus, a soul-savior. He didn’t want a signet ring and purple robe. He stepped into everyday life to assist the neediest.

This king of hearts touched foul flesh, sat in fishing boats, rebuked the haughty and cradled children on his lap. He washed feet, forgave murderous sins, and healed bad reputations. For believers, the fog began to lift.

Jesus was not what we expected.

Jesus was what we needed.

Christmas-signs say “Believe.” I’m pretty sure the red glittery messages refer to Santa, a figment of imaginations, but the word can remind of an ultimate belief.

When Nicodemus sought to understand Jesus better, Jesus told about a key ingredient for clearer understanding, “God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).

From heaven’s porch, God’s plan for salvation could be seen with clarity. From earth’s footstool, things looked a bit foggy as to the outcome. But, through the biblical account, this blessed generation has a more complete picture of prophecy and promises fulfilled. On the trail—from manger to cross—belief that Jesus is the Son of God has caused the fog to lift.

Merry Christmas!