prayer coach

I marked this daily reading from John Eldredge’s as something I wanted to share. With the last two posts on fear (Jesus not having fear and We are not to be afraid), I thought this would be a nice place to add this angle on fear. Fear can come in many ways, and as Eldredge himself admits here, this is not one we typically think. Enjoy

Embracing the Glory
4/10/2011

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?” Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us . . . And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. (Marianne Williamson)

When I first read this quote, I thought, No, that’s not true. We don’t fear our glory. We fear we are not glorious at all. We fear that at bottom, we are going to be revealed as . . . disappointments. Mandela is just trying to make a nice speech, like a sermon, to buoy us up for a day or two. But as I thought about it more, I realized we do fear our glory. We fear even heading this direction because, for one thing, it seems prideful. Now pride is a bad thing, to be sure, but it’s not prideful to embrace the truth that you bear the image of God. Paul says it brings glory to God. We walk in humility because we know it is a glory bestowed. It reflects something of the Lord’s glory.

John Eldredge’s newsletter from this morning reiterated the thought from the previous post regarding how much Father God loves you. I have included the email text below.

God’s Heart Bursts With Longing For You!
11/15/2010

Oh! Ephraim is my dear, dear son,
my child in whom I take pleasure!
Every time I mention his name, my heart bursts with longing for him!
Everything in me cries out for him. Softly and tenderly I wait for him.
(Jer. 31:20 The Message)

Put your own name in this verse, in the place of “Ephraim” (a name for God’s people, and that includes you). Imagine that God’s heart bursts with longing for you. This is the message of Jesus: there is a good and loving father who cares so deeply and passionately for you. He yearns to be your Father now. He will draw near, if you’ll let him. No matter how old we are, our true Father wants us to experience being his Beloved Sons, and all the joys of boyhood that go with it. But it requires opening our hearts, which will take us back into some of our deepest wounds, and the cynicism and resignation that shut our hearts down a long time ago. God does this so that he might bring his love and healing to the fatherless boy within us, the boy that still needs to know he is the Beloved Son.

And so, to begin with, you might ask yourself, “Did I have a father with whom I felt safe?” and, “Did I know I was prized by my father?” “Was I invited to be a boy, did I get to live a boy’s life as it was meant to be?” You might even want to write out your answers to those questions, especially the follow-up question, “Why . . . or why not?” Tell your story, at least to yourself, and to God.

I received this newsletter in the mail this weekend from John Eldredge‘s Ransomed Heart Ministry. I wanted to share it hear because of his comments about not wanting to pray for his friend. I think they are common doubts for believers and common hindrances to prayer. Enjoy.

September 2010

Dear Friends of Ransomed Heart,

I just had a pretty remarkable conversation with Jesus, around a very disappointing event, the fruit of which is so important I wanted to share it with you.

First, some back story, I’ve been an elk hunter for fifteen years. (This is not a hunting story ladies, so hang with me.) Over the course of those years I’ve had so many phenomenal disappointments, you’d wonder why in the world I keep at it. But hey, I’m not alone in that. Golfers do this. And people who date. Diet. Invest money. Lead a church. Heck, we all have arenas where we experience more setback and disappointment than we do triumph. That’s why this story is so important.

Last weekend I was out in the woods, bow hunting but mostly just hanging out with God, and I thought my day had finally come. After fifteen years, I was going to get the Big One. An enormous bull elk appeared 150 yards away from me on a mountain I knew no one else was hunting. I wasn’t even looking for him. The opportunity came so serendipitously, I thought it was God for sure. My years of waiting were over. This was going to redeem everything.

I prayed. Hard. I did it all right. I even thought I was following that inner voice of the Holy Spirit as carefully as I could. Did I mention I was praying hard?

This morning I got John Eldredge’s newsletter in my email. I felt it went along with the post yesterday on hope: An Anchor for the Soul, so I have included the email text below.

Things Are Not What They Seem
3/17/2010

What do all the great stories and myths tell us? What do they have in common? What are they trying to get across? Wherever they may come from, whatever their shape might be, they nearly always speak to us Three Eternal Truths. First, these stories are trying to remind us that things are not what they seem. There is a whole lot more going on here than meets the eye. Much more. After the tornado sets her down, Dorothy wakes and steps out of her old farmhouse to find herself in a strange new world, a land of Munchkins and fairies and wicked witches. The Land of Oz. How brilliant for the filmmakers to have waited for this moment to introduce color in the movie. Up till now the story has been told in black and white; when Dorothy steps out of the house, the screen explodes in color, and she whispers to her little friend, “Toto . . . I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

Isn’t this the very lesson of the Emmaus Road? You recall the story—two followers of Christ are headed out of town after the Crucifixion, as dejected as two people can be, with every reason in their minds to be so and more. Their hopes have been shattered. They staked it all on the Nazarene, and now he’s dead. As they slump back toward their homes, Jesus sort of sneaks up alongside, very much alive but incognito, and joins their conversation, feigning ignorance—and they not seeing it is him.

John Eldredge’s newsletter from the other morning reiterated the thought from the previous post regarding what we are afraid to ask God for. I have included the email text below.

Do You Want to Get Well?
2/17/2010

The shriveled figure lay in the sun like a pile of rags dumped there by accident. It hardly appeared to be human. But those who used the gate to go in and out of Jerusalem recognized him. He was disabled, dropped off there every morning by someone in his family, and picked up again at the end of the day. A rumor was going around that sometimes (no one really knew when) an angel would stir the waters, and the first one in would be healed. Sort of a lottery, if you will. And as with every lottery, the desperate gathered round, hoping for a miracle.

It had been so long since anyone had actually spoken to him, he thought the question was meant for someone else. Squinting upward into the sun, he didn’t recognize the figure standing above him. The misshapen man asked the fellow to repeat himself; perhaps he had misheard. Although the voice was kind, the question felt harsh, even cruel.

“Do you want to get well?”

He sat speechless, blinking into the sun. Slowly, the words seeped into his consciousness, like a voice calling him out of a dream. Do I want to get well? Slowly, like a wheel long rusted, his mind began to turn over. What kind of question is that? Why else would I be lying here? Why else would I have spent every day for the past thirty-eight seasons lying here? He is mocking me. But now that his vision had adjusted to the glare, he could see the inquisitor’s face, his eyes. The face was as kind as the voice he heard. Apparently, the man meant what he said, and he was waiting for an answer. “Do you want to get well? What is it that you want?”

I have enjoyed John Eldredge’s writings for almost 10 years. This morning I received one his daily newsletters that I feel speaks right to the heart of some people’s issue with prayer: God’s silence. Eldredge says that most people assume the issue is either with their unworthiness or God’s lack of love for them (although very few will admit this out loud). Why is God silent?

I hope you enjoy today’s newsletter as much as I did.  If you want to subscribe to Eldredge’s daily email, create a profile at www.ransomedheart.com/myprofile.

We Are At War
10/7/2009

In the third year of Cyrus king of Persia, a revelation was given to Daniel (who was called Belteshazzar). Its message was true and it concerned a great war. The understanding of the message came to him in a vision. At that time I, Daniel, mourned for three weeks. I ate no choice food; no meat or wine touched my lips; and I used no lotions at all until the three weeks were over (Daniel 10:1-3).

Something has happened that Daniel doesn’t understand. I think we can all relate to that. We don’t understand about 90% of what happens to us, either. Daniel is troubled. He sets out to get an answer. But three weeks of prayer and fasting produce no results. What is he to conclude? If Daniel were like most people, by this point he’d probably be headed towards one of two conclusions: I’m blowing it, or, God is holding out on me. He might try confessing every sin and petty offense, in hopes of opening up the lines of communication with God. Or, he might withdraw into a sort of disappointed resignation, drop the fast, and turn on the television. In an effort to hang onto his faith, he might embrace the difficulty as part of “God’s will for his life.” He might read a book on “the silence of God.” That’s the way the people I know handle this sort of thing.