Territory Prayer

"Would you pray for me?"

I can feel the stress rise in my neck as it prickles to the base of my hairline.

It is not the request. It is not that I don't want to. I don't want to be the one that says, "Yes," to what I feel is an important responsibility and then fail to remember or find time to pray for that request.

There are strategies for avoiding this failure. Scroll your Facebook, Instagram, <insert current social media flavour-of-the-week here> and pray while reading. I have also rattled off a bunch of names at the end of the prayer to make sure people were covered. These strategies do not make me feel spiritually connected to God.

Today, during prayer, I listened. I trusted that God has my requests and those requests of the people I know covered. I read Jeremiah Chapter 1.

The Lord positions Jeremiah to speak to the people of Judah, who are living ungodly lives. In the passage God twice asks Jeremiah what he sees. The first time, Jeremiah sees an almond tree, a branch used in the tabernacle as a symbol of priestly divinity and their responsibilities over the people. Jeremiah is appointed to Judah. The second time, Jeremiah sees a boiling pot, facing away from the north. The boiling pot is a attack on the city of Judah, a judgment for wrong. The chapter ends with assurance that God will deliver Judah from the attack and their wrongdoings.

Jeremiah came after a period of silence. It had been 70 years since the last prophet, Nahum.

Judah is a territory to which Jeremiah was appointed. When I feel like there are too many fiery darts of oppression headed toward my territory (the prayer needs), the Bible tells me to take up the shield of faith to quench these darts (Ephesians 6:16). We are pressed, but not destroyed. We experience a delivery to death that the life of Jesus may also deliver life in us (2 Corinthians 4:8-11).

"Would you pray for me?"

Yes.

I hold the needs of my territory in faith. And, sometimes, I need not utter a word.

Story Behind the Picture

I just finished scrolling through my Instagram feed. I have 7 followers. I am following 2 people, my husband and his sister. Oh, and 0 posts. I scrolled through on my computer because I don't have the app on my phone.

I can't keep up. Too many apps, too many people and too much pressure to keep up.

I looked back on some of my previous blog posts for inspiration from these feelings of inadequacy. Thrive, don't survive. Off the grid... Why can't these messages have sunk in a little deeper?

***

After putting the kids to bed one evening, I had sunk into one of our brown lazy boy chairs (generously given to us secondhand from my parents) only to hear our eldest out of bed, thumping her feet as she turned the corner.

"Mommeee?!?!" her wanting voice pleaded. I don't even remember the request. I do remember my reply.

"I have nothing left to give tonight...."

My answer was returned with understanding and my child gave me a hug. She understood, as the preschool analogy goes, my bucket was empty and needed filling.

I am finding social media frequently leaves me with this feeling. Feeds filled with excitement or devastation, but not the monotony portion which fills part of my life.

I recently had pneumonia. It reminded me of those who are actually following my life. My real life. I never posted Josette's pregnancy on social media. No cyber announcement I was expecting. It was a social experiment of sorts. There were several surprised "friends" when the online birth announcement came.

Who am I following? Who is following me? Once I turn this concern from my online world to my real world, I suddenly feel less lacking.

Had I posted a picture of our Family Day adventures it would show a picture of us skating. Addisyn with me and Chris with Rylyn. Josette would be absent because she was at preschool. It wouldn't show the months of hunting buy and sell sites for a pair of used skates that would fit both older girls. Or picking up those skates after a bit of a snow flurry, from a home who didn't shovel their driveway, after a pedicure, in flipflops. It wouldn't show Chris returning a hockey helmet that didn't fit quite right to Canadian Tire.

That single picture would represent our whole day. Two laps of the ice each. Was it fun? Yes. Was it work? Yes. Enough work that there is no picture. Our day also held teaching the kids to play Old Maid, watching tv, cleaning some windows and laundry. Hardly picture worthy.

I endeavour to call to light the everyday routines (and even struggles) that make those snapshots worth sharing or celebrating. Maybe one day we will get a picture of all five of us on the ice at once. For now, 15 minutes on the ice at a time and no pictures is okay. God sees us. He sees the story behind the picture. He is following my life. Who am I following?

Hopefully Him. Lord, help me to live out my conviction to absorb myself in Your truth. Help me to follow You and in doing so, see and share the stories behind the pictures. Give me wisdom to avoid misleading information and the strength to resist judgment of others. May I live in Your joy. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

"Lord, you have examined me

    and know all about me.

You know when I sit down and when I get up.
    You know my thoughts before I think them...

God, examine me and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any bad thing in me.
    Lead me on the road to everlasting life."

-Psalm 139:1,2...23,24 - NCV