Embracing My DNA

For me, prayer has always been wrapped up in condemnation.
Not that it was a conscious thought, but it was always there… underlying my foundational beliefs about prayer. And about myself.
While I’ve never been one to pray for very long, everyday but not hours at a time. my mom, on the other hand, was known for her hours-long prayer times. And in a way, it became a measure of spirituality in the brand of Christianity I was raised in.
A measure I fell very short of.
I’ve been made to feel like a “bad Christian” because of my prayer habits (or non-habits).
I’ve been told that I’m not spiritual enough because I don’t pray for long periods of time. (Along with my insufficient Scripture usage and lack of structured “quiet times”…)
Prayer became yet another area that I’m simply “not enough” in. The guilt always gave birth to shame in my failed attempts to try harder.
So it’s something I’ve had to realign my thinking on. And I find myself still needing to. Often. Because I still feel the weight of those lies.
I want depth and realness in my prayer life to stem from desire, not judgment.
I’m tired of trying to pray more/better/longer/eloquentlier because I’m “supposed to”. I’m done should-ing on myself, and I’m done with others should-ing on me too.
Because, let’s be honest… Guilt, disapproval, and judgment have only caused me to pray less, not more.
Ironic how condemnation works. Even when it’s self-inflicted.
I digress.
There is significant freedom in remembering that God created me as I am, on purpose.
He’s not surprised by my “oooooh! shiny!” tendencies when I’m talking to Him. He’s not baffled by my inability to sit still for extended periods of time. He’s not confused when I pray in short one-liners spread throughout the day.
He knows what I’m like. He’s the One who knit me together for God’s sake! (No blasphemy intended. He really did create me for His sake.)
And He hardwired me exactly as I am. Intentionally.
I think He loves when I relate to Him out of the uniqueness of my own DNA rather than out of some mass-produced version of how Christians “should” pray.
So today I’m choosing to shake off the shackles of should and supposed to. And I’m giving myself the freedom to discover how God wants to relate to me.
And how He created me to relate to Him.
Which is as individual and unparalleled as my fingerprint.
What are some of the unique ways you can relate to God?
Do you feel freedom to connect with Him like that?

Who Touched Me

The woman bled for 12 years straight.Physician after physician shrugged his shoulders. She’d given up all hope of ever getting better. But then she heard about Jesus: the miracle worker. Desperate, she knew she had to get to Him.
As she clawed her way through the crowd on her hands and knees, she carried with her much more than her illness. She carried shame. As if in a bag over her shoulder, she dragged along a heavy burden of rejection and fear. She’s referred to as the “woman with the issue of blood”, but her issues ran much deeper than that. Her physical ailment made her an outcast in her own culture.Her emotional hurts and scars were far worse than her physical ones.
Finally catching up to Jesus, she reached out and frantically, yet faintly, grabbed the hem of His robe. Immediately, she was healed. Jesus turned around and faced the crowd.“Who touched Me?”
Shetold Him the whole truth.She told why she had touched Him and how she had been instantly healed.Jesus cared enough to listen to her story. Thelongversion.He just let her talk.He was on His way to heal a dying girl. People were rushing Him. Pressing Him. Insisting He keep going before it’s too late. He silenced them long enough for her to tell her story.
When she finished talking, He responded by calling herDaughter. It’s the only time recorded that He addressed someone that way. The love she felt in that one simple word must have been overwhelming. After pouring out her heart, He’d responded with pure affection. Gentle but aggressive love.
If Jesus’ aim was simply to heal her, He would have kept walking after she touched Him, for she was healed instantly. If that was all He was concerned about, He wouldn’t have stopped, turned around, asked the question. He wouldn’t have looked straight at her, talked to her, listened. But He did all those things. He wanted to let her talk. To tell her story.He wanted to call herDaughter.
For that is when her heart was healed.
He wanted to heal more than her body. His aim all along was to heal her heart.
I can picture Him looking her in the eyes as He talked to her. And making her look into His. The healing began as, face-to-face, His love was visible, and it resonated within her soul. It broke down walls. Shattered barriers. Smashed through the defenses she’d lived behind for so long. His love broke through with a simple gaze, a listening ear, and undivided attention.
It wouldn’t have helped if He healed her physically, but left her to still carry the hurt from her 12 years of rejection and disgrace. Despite her physical healing, she probably would have continued to stay holed up in her house. She would have been the same cowering little girl she always was, still dragging her bag of shame behind her. But as Jesus looked into her eyes, He saw the woman He created her to be, and He wasn’t content to leave her drowning in her pain.
The greatest healing isn’t the miraculous cure of her incurable disease. It is the passionate healing of her heart.
God’s primary concern is still the condition of hearts. Physical health and a blessed life pale in comparison with a restored soul. God’s heart hurts for our hurting hearts.
He still brings love, grace, and healing through a touch of the hem of His robe.
And we are the hem of His robe.