"In return for my love they accuse me,
but I give myself to prayer."
Psalm 109:4 ESV
I didn't deserve such horrible treatment. I'm not perfect, but I honestly didn't provoke such mean and spiteful attacks, such abuse. I could harbor anger and resentment, seek revenge, or wallow in self pity. Or, I could give myself to prayer as David did.
Give. I spend a lot of time hurling up prayer arrows; brief, desperate pleas for help, distracted communication to be sure. But David speaks of something deeper here. He refers to authentic, wholehearted communication between me and my Father where I speak and am heard, where I pour out my all and He receives, and where He gives in return. He comforts, grants wisdom and discernment, delivers unfathomable peace.
If I am to truly give myself over to prayer, I am to sink into it, wholly engage, placing my full weight onto it's effectiveness (James 5:16). By confessing the name of God as worthy of praise and more than able to come through in a way that will blow my mind, I am to pray with thanksgiving for what I believe He is able to do, for what I know without a doubt He will accomplish, as if it has already happened. For in His realm where time is not a factor, the future is already a done deal. In a very real sense, He has already gone before me and knows exactly how He has directed my footsteps. With this in mind, I can pray a prayer of faith, giving myself over to His sovereign power.
As David beautifully demonstrated, I can give myself fully to this experience of prayer to my Father whenever I find myself as the victim of abuse.
Myself. I often ask for prayer from those I know are faithful. This is important as we are called to bear one another's burdens and lift one another up in prayer (Galatians 6:2, Ephesians 6:18). But I can't solely depend on others' prayers for me: I also have to come before the Lord myself.
When I fervently pray, something happens within me. I come into closer communion with my Father, opening up the channels of two-way communication where He changes my perspective, shows me where I'm off, softens my heart, gives me eyes to see and ears to hear. Suddenly, I am not the powerless victim anymore, but the powerful dispenser of God's supernatural love that can break down any barrier, change any heart, and give hope where there's been none. When I enter into prayer with the Almighty, His might becomes mine,but it's a gracious, merciful kind of force that can change the world, one life at a time.
As David beautifully demonstrated, I can give myself to fervent prayer to my powerful Father whenever I find myself as the victim of abuse.
Prayer. I often get into the habit of making requests. I'm good at letting God know what I need, putting in my appeals and letting it be that.
But prayer is so much more than giving Him my needs. It is communion with the Holy where I exchange my will for His. It is to be a sweet time of intimacy when I adore Him for His Beauty, standing in awe of His gentle power. It can be a time of confession, when I come clean before Him, trusting Him enough with my failings, my weaknesses, my issues, knowing I am safe in my nakedness before Him. Prayer is a constant time of looking for His work all around me and thanking Him for His attention to detail, His unique way of handling difficult situations, His sovereign power in resolving the impossible.
Prayer is so much more than me asking for what I need, putting in my order, or letting Him know what I think is necessary. While it's good to turn these over to God to fulfill, prayer goes much deeper than this. As missionary Andrew Murray said, "How many Christians look upon it as a burden and a duty and a difficulty to get alone with God! That is the great hindrance to our Christian life everywhere." Prayer is a sacred privilege, but also true intimacy with the One who completes us.
As David beautifully demonstrated, I can give myself over to the authentic communion of prayer with my loving Father whenever I find myself as the victim of abuse.
It's easy to turn unwarranted abuse into something destructive and ugly. But there is another way that can transform my life and work to change the world. I can fully give myself over to prayer when I am the target of harsh treatment, unwarranted cruelty or unjustified attacks. This is the godly response of the victim.
As I begin this day it is my prayer that I can see beyond my own hurt when treated cruelly.
How do I depend on others' prayers instead of praying for myself?
When do my prayers become superficial and redundant?
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