Lord Jesus, teach me to pray unceasingly, expectantly, leaning forward to wait with my eyes wide open. I don't want to miss seeing what You do.
I often fall into praying for my will to be done. (So human of me.)
Surely what I want is good, right? It feels that way.
I can reason out that if this whatever it is were to take place, it would help. All the circumstances point to it.
Yet as I pray fervently for it to come, I'm transported through time. I'm ten, swinging my feet as I sit in the pew. I want to go play, to escape the somber grown-up world. You, my Daddy, lean forward to place a hand on my shoulder, giving me a look that firmly and lovingly says, “Wait.”
But I want it now.
Wait, You assure me. Wait.
Ten fades, the fifty-odd intervening years resume their weight of reality, and I read:
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
2 Corinthians 4:18
The here-and-now can be so persuasive. What I lack presses on my thoughts, goading me, a constantly recurring frisson of anxiety nipping at parts inside me, the not-yet-here robbing me of peace.
On the days when I perceive life as going the way I think it should, I feel happy, yet I know that happiness is time-bound. It has a shallow root—it blooms and fades in a day.
No, this isn't waiting for the other shoe to drop, it's just a fact that what is seen really is transitory.
Johnathan Edwards said, “Lord, stamp eternity on my eyeballs.” I get that. I want to view life through an eternal lens, focused on the unseen.
Why does it seem so hard?
I groan again as I realize I have to try.
Lord, self-discipline is a fruit of the Spirit. Let trying grow out of me as naturally as a plum follows the pink blossom of spring.
I will sit still on my pew, quietly trusting that today is custom made for me.
Today I have. Don't let me poison it with wanting, when I can rest beside still waters, soul restored.
Each day lean over me, placing Your hand on my shoulder again, teaching me to trust You and wait.
Remind me: Don't swing your legs, anticipating what hasn't come yet. Lean forward in prayer, yes, but abide in what is now. Today.
Your will, Lord. Done.