By Anne Umscheid. It seemed like life was piling up on me. All it took was one more challenge–and the veneer of my life cracked. It happened on a particularly cold, windy December morning. As I gingerly made my way down the stairs in the pre-morning darkness, taking care not to wake our three children and to protect the toe that I had stubbed the night before, I was making mental note of the grievances I was going to present to God.
My husband and I had recently relocated, the seventh move in 10 years of marriage. The birth of our third child two weeks after the move had added to the stress. Then, there was the problem with the strips of vinyl siding that had been ripped almost completely off the house by the fierce wind. They banged against the house, frightening our baby. Because I had to attend to her, I had allowed the boys to take their evening baths together. A big mistake!
The boys had turned the bathtub into a submarine base, splashing and plunging under water. Soon the bathroom became a disaster area. Water had continued to flow from the open faucet over the side of the tub as I rushed into the room–slipping, crashing, and stubbing my toe.
I had put the boys to bed in great anger and without their usual Bible story. I knew what I wanted God to do about changing their behavior.
Then there was my husband: always gone when I needed him! This time his business had taken him to the Middle East for two weeks. To make matters worse, he had forgotten to leave me the checkbook. Since I had no cash or credit cards, I couldn’t imagine how I was going to buy groceries and gas for the car. Shame and anger had flooded me as I thought of having to borrow from my new neighbors. I had reminded God that at least He could make my husband more considerate!
As my foot hit the last stair I had completed my grievance list, at least temporarily. I stopped for a moment. The unmistakable sound of dripping water had demanded my attention. I had turned on the light only to find another disaster. There in the middle of the family room floor, on newly installed carpeting, lay a large portion of the ceiling, the ceiling that was directly below the flooded bathroom. Water still dripped from the gaping hole.
My tears could not be contained. I had always prided myself on my pioneer spirit, but with all my family far away in the west and good friends far away in the north, I could not escape my grief. I felt so alone, so alone.
I didn’t really know God well enough; certainly not well enough to sustain me through the inevitable crises of life. Where was He when I needed help with real problems and stresses? How was I supposed to get in touch with Him in prayer?
One day soon after this episode, during my afternoon prayer time, I pondered two verses from my morning readings: “Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God” (Mt. 5:8); and the promise that whoever believes in Jesus would experience the flow of living waters from within (Jn. 7:38). I began to tell the Lord how much I wanted that living water to flow from within my heart. I finally became so tired that I just rested my head in my hands.
I was quiet for a long time trying to picture what my heart looked like. Then in my mind’s eye I saw an oddly shaped vessel, perhaps clay, deep within me. Water was flowing into it but never reaching the top. Then I saw the reason: it was cracked, lots of cracks. And it was dirty inside, like a stained vase that needed scrubbing. I knew it was my heart–dry, brittle, cracked, stained. Anger, resentment, and unforgiveness were making it so.
How sad, I thought. Could that heart ever be cleaned and repaired?
Deep within my spirit a quiet confidence came, a knowing. It was as if I heard a voice saying that Love heals the heart, Love purifies the heart. I was very still. Listening. Then, there was a challenge: to love the people in my life, even the difficult people who put up barriers to that love. But I wanted to be loved, too! Then, in that moment, I knew I was loved beyond words, beyond my understanding. I was God’s child and He loved me.
I felt overwhelmed, but I had a tremendous sense of peace. Resting quietly, I knew that my search for the Lord was not in vain. I desired to continue to seek Him, to read in the morning and to pray in the afternoon.
When I read, I found that the words of Scripture were speaking to my heart in a new way. Many times the silence became alive. I had a deeper understanding of “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10).
As the weeks and months passed I found Scriptures that were very important in shaping the pattern of my prayer life. I began to return to verses such as “I trust in your unfailing love” (Ps. 13:5), or “Show me your ways, O LORD, teach me your paths” (Ps. 25:4), or “For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light” (Ps. 36:9), and “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Ps. 51:10). These started out as memorizations in the mornings, became a prayer on my lips during the day, and then the prayer of my heart as I sat quietly in the afternoon in my prayer place.
It was difficult and painful to discover how far away from His paths I often wandered, how self-centered my life and even my prayers sometimes were. As I disciplined myself to sit in God’s presence every day, I came to see the darkness in my heart and to realize how my overdemanding needs for power, control, self-esteem, affection, and security drove the decisions that I made or my reactions to those around me.
For example, when my children’s antics led to results that were inconvenient or disruptive, I punished and reacted in anger. Wouldn’t it be better to instruct, to discipline, to love? How would Jesus have handled that situation the night the boys flooded the bathroom? Surely He would have helped them dry off, instructing them in a loving parental manner on the error of their ways. Perhaps He would have engaged their help in cleaning up the mess, tucking them into bed with the assurance that they were loved in spite of their foolishness.
Would Jesus judge my husband inconsiderate and thoughtless? Or would He be compassionate, knowing that frequent trips of 15,000 miles away can cause forgetfulness and what appears to be lack of concern, when truly it is exhaustion and stress. I had judged without compassion or love.
I could only ask for forgiveness and grace to surrender my needs to the Lord, and to trust that He would put them into balance for me, teach me wisdom, heal my emotions, and give me the rest that is found in Him alone.
Before His ministry began, Jesus was led into the desert by the Spirit to pray and fast. In that solitude and quiet, He received the guidance and fullness of the Holy Spirit that the Father intended for Him (Mt. 4:1-11).
During His ministry Jesus always prayed to the Father to seek His will, often going to a solitary place even before sunrise (Mk. 4:35, Lk. 22:39).
Jesus constantly spoke of His union with the Father and promised to be with us and in us and to send His Spirit to guide us (Jn. 14:15-28), to speak to us, to tell us what is to come (Jn. 16:13).
By His words and actions Jesus has revealed to us how to pray.
This level of prayer, the prayer of quiet listening, is not meant to replace other levels of prayer, but to lead us in our spiritual journey to the union with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit that Jesus desires for us. When Jesus invites us into spiritual rest with Him, He asks us to stop trying to prove ourselves. He asks us to shut out the voices of the world, often internalized, that would judge, deride, and confuse us. We are invited to listen for God’s voice for love and direction.
ANNE UMSCHEID’s favorite verse in the Bible is Ps. 37:4. “When we delight in the Lord, He often responds by bringing about more than we could hope or ask for, beyond our knowledge of what is needed–truly fulfilling the desires of our hearts.