Shower Sanctuary
A couple of weeks ago, I was carrying a heavy burden for our kids. In addition to their struggles with mental health, they were facing tough situations at school, growing pains as they work through their teens, and moments of crisis in their faith. They were wrestling with all of it and feeling defeated. And Micah and I were wrestling with all of it in the parenting trenches, and especially in prayer.
On a Sunday morning, I stood in the shower (where I tend to do my deepest thinking and most meaningful praying), praying quietly in my mind that God would meet them in each of the places in which they were struggling. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I felt a prompting, Pray out loud. So I did. I prayed out loud that God would open their eyes to see what he was already doing in their lives. I prayed that he would bind despair, hopelessness, deceit, discouragement in their lives. I prayed that he would show them, even as we walked alongside in the physical things, that he was enough. I reminded him he'd given me those words as a promise on that Sunday all those days before. I want them to know you're enough, Lord, I cried out, You are ENOUGH.
There was a time in high school or college when I found myself praying fervently for a friend who was sick. I felt as though God whispered to me, You're in the throne room. Get down on your knees and make your request. At the time, I was in the middle of a church service. Feeling more than a little sheepish, I knelt where I was and laid my friend at God's feet. It was such a unique experience that I've never forgotten it.
That morning, in my shower sanctuary, I felt the same nudging. You're in the throne room. Get down on your knees and make your request. So I knelt down in the shower, shampoo dripping down my face and water pouring on my back, and lowered my face to the floor. I expected to kneel to continue praying for my kids, but what came out of my mouth next surprised me.
For the next several minutes, words poured almost unbidden from my lips. You are good. You are wise. You are faithful and true. You are powerful. You are merciful. You are enough. The words seemed to come from outside of me somehow, and yet at the same time, from the deepest part of me. As I heard them out loud, I was filled with the conviction that these weren't just words. I believed them. To the core of who I was, I believed them. I've never had certainty like that about any aspect of my walk with God. When I had been emptied of words of praise, I said, "I KNOW these things to be true." It was the most sincere, honest statement I think I've ever made, and I felt it coming from deep within me.
Only then, by now sobbing, I laid my request before him. I knew they were facing hard things. I knew they would face harder things still. And they would not, could not, endure them without him. I pleaded with him to open their eyes to him, to allow them to see all the ways he was already at work in their lives. I asked for deep roots that would anchor them in him through all of the future storms. I asked that they would stay close to him as he walked with them through fire. I couldn't go to all of those places with them. I couldn't protect them, or walk with them through it. But he could. He would. If only they would see him and know him fully. HE would be enough for all that they faced in their lifetime.
It's taken me a long time to process that morning. It was so unlike most experiences that I've had that I wasn't sure how to understand it. To be honest, I've often struggled to know how to worship God. Aside from singing songs, I don't understand what real worship is, or how to go about it. But I know that the Spirit intercedes for us at all times with sounds and groans we can't find a way to express ourselves. I know that everyone who enters his presence can't help but worship. I know that he says that if we are silent, even the rocks will cry out. God will be praised.
Our small group has been working through the book of Daniel together, and this week we studied Nebuchadnezzar, a pagan king whose boasting caused him to be humbled. After spending time in the wilderness, he came to realize God's power and acknowledged who God is. I told our group that it reminded me of the verse about the rocks crying out, a verse my Dad used to talk about often in rocky Spain. One way or another, God will be praised. Not because he's an ego-maniac or because he needs it, but because it's who he is. Just as a roaring waterfall or a towering mountain inspire a certain awe in us, the God who created all of it can't help but be awe-inspiring. He can't help but draw from our spirits an unbidden response of praise. It's just who he is.
Since that experience, I've come across several verses that talk about praise, and about worshiping God. I never understood them before, never really entered into them. But the shower experience changed something in me. It showed me what worship looks like, what it means for my spirit to truly cry out to him. It showed me who he is.
It also showed me who I am. It revealed my own faith. Where I felt shaky in the conviction of my beliefs, and where I felt inadequate in my ability to worship him, he left me with an experience that cemented both. I know now that I believe those things to be true of him. I know that I live in that confidence, even when I don't always feel it. I know the joy and freedom and affirmation of pouring out my praise. And, yes, I made my requests. I've had peace remembering that I laid it all down before him when I start to pick up the worry again. But he gave me something far more beautiful that morning.
And how like God to meet far more than we perceive to be our need.
