Breathing

We inhale, and we exhale. Breathing is so natural, so vital. What is true for our physical well-being, is also true spiritually. The spiritual breathing, of the Christian life, is prayer.

I learned this as a young mom to my preemie boys. Exhaustion and loneliness were my only companions. I was in desperate need. As a young girl I learned that prayer was a direct communication line to God; He would hear my inarticulate cries for His help and deliverance. I began to raise my heartfelt needs at almost every waking moment.

I spoke with Him about my weariness and my workload. I raised my concerns regarding Matthew emerging needs. As I washed dishes, I asked for His intervention and for Matthew’s healing. My pastor-friends on Christian radio taught solid Biblical truth, and I soaked in every drop. It was life-giving water for my parched and weary soul. God and I spoke about that truth as I folded laundry, and as I cooked, cleaned and cared for my boys. Prayer became as natural as breathing—it was like breathing—it was spiritual breathing.

As Matthew’s need increased, the hard road of long-term disability and debilitating special needs rose before me. The countless prayers I offered were not being answered as a hoped. I was confused and heartbroken. My honest questions and heartfelt laments rose in a continual stream to His throne.  

His ongoing message to me was ‘Trust me. I am doing something larger, deeper and more significant in this season. I will never leave you.’

He and my pastor-friends on Christian radio urged me deeper into Scripture. As I did so I discovered Who He is. Through His word, I inhaled the truth that my heart cries were heard in the portals of heaven. The Holy One saw me in my plight; that truth quieted and stabilized me. As I spoke with Him in prayer, I exhaled my disappointment and discouragement.

He is the One Who inhabits eternity. He existed before all things, and by Him everything came into being. It was astounding that He allowed me to speak with Him at all. However, He desired to draw me into intimate friendship in an ongoing conversation through prayer.

“For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite.” Isaiah 57:15

In this marvel we Christians call prayer, this Holy One who inhabits eternity condescended to draw me into intimate friendship.  He desired that I dwell as friend with Friend, and that I would be forever changed us in the process through this holy and ancient practice of prayer.

Gaining an audience with Him is as simple as stepping into His presence. I needn’t be in a stained-glass chapel or a pristine wilderness, the place where I stood sufficed. He was willing to listen whether I stood over a sink of dirty dishes in it the early morning or somewhere in the stillness of night. In my bedraggled state, I often spoke with the Ancient of Days in my kitchen. There, I breathed out the exhaustion and heartache, and breathed in the truth of Scripture.

 Scripture urged me to boldly present my requests to God. In no way did He disregard or dismiss my requests. Scripture says it this way:

“Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” Hebrews 4:16

The more time He and I spent together, the more my requests aligned with His heart. My requests changed from immediate relief from my harsh circumstances to requests for endurance, perseverance, and increased faith to trust His plan when it looked and felt like the wrong path. In my confusion and soul-pain, I plunged into the psalms, and found raw laments that mirrored my own. I found unvarnished questions and pleas for divine help and guidance. I identified, and took up those psalms as my soul-cry. My soul exhaled its confusion and pain, and inhaled the truth of Who He is.

Though our journey offered little in the way of answers or immediate relief, it offered ample opportunities to draw close to Him in this holy practice of prayer. It offered pain that forced me to seek comfort in His presence. It offered desperation that sent me trembling into His everlasting arms.

Along the way, He and I became inseparable. I would be a fool to walk away from One so tender, Who held me in my sadness and was so present in my pain—He refused to leave me. It was clear, He would be with me the whole journey, He was too good for anything less. In His arms, I exhaled my sadness, and breathed Him in.

He was taking me down a dark pathway where He would take my sweet boy to heaven. There, my son would not only be healed, but he would be safely held—protected— waiting for me. Matthew’s pain, seizures and struggles would end. I could trust my Redeemer to take Matthew, bear him safely over and do all He promised and more, because I knew Him. I knew His voice, His presence and His heart. I knew Him because we had dwelt together as Friend with friend the entire journey. What began with me seeking immediate relief and rescue had become a long journey fraught with steep uphill climbs. He was my ever present Companion the entire way. The Ancient of Days was my closest Friend and the Lover of my Soul—and it all happened through prayer-- breathing out my pain, and I breathed Him in.