echoes of redemption

A couple weeks ago my mom, Sharon, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Today is her lumpectomy.

And so we pray.

Because we believe that prayer changes things.

Because we believe that when we pray we somehow find ourselves closer to God. More aware of him.

And in him we find strength.

And hope.

No doubt the journey ahead will be long, but when you ask my mother about it there is a sense of peace. So many people are praying. So many people supporting her through this moment in her journey.

And she feels it.

And so we pray.

Last night I took a short cut that wound through one of the more affluent neighborhoods in our city. As I drove I passed a house that had a huge brick wall and a steel gate. The wall had a name inscribed on it – apparently the house was massive enough to warrant a name.

The house was called Blessing.

More interesting to me was the fact that this wall said blessing on it. A wall that says blessing.

Walls keep people out.

And they keep people in.

They isolate.

I have no doubt that all good things come from God – and a house is a good thing. But this house had a wall that they wanted to be a symbol, so they inscribed it. But all walls are symbols, even before they’re inscribed.

Once the gates of Blessing closed, no one could get to this person. And, likewise, they could get to no one.

This person saw their isolation as a blessing.

Maybe they prayed they would get cut off from the world. Maybe they didn’t want to get hurt by it anymore. Maybe they just don’t care about the needs of others.

Whatever the cause, what they perceive as blessing actually disconnects them from the way God designed us to live.

Which is why I think there are times I pray for blessings that God never gives me.

We have to realize that we interpret our world through a lens. It was formed as we grew up, by the media we intake and by the relationships and experiences we pour ourselves into. When we come to God and restrict him to operating within the assigned views of success and failure that we see in our limited experience we fail to take part in either his greatness nor his revolutionary plan for this world.

When Jesus prayed in the garden before his death, not my will, but yours be done, he was admitting the way he saw things as a human was through his lens. That he was in a set time and set place and had a way of looking with things that came from that. And his was said there was no need to die on a cross.

But he yielded his lens to a greater picture. It was the opportunity to be a blessing far beyond what one man should be capable of. It was the opportunity to take part in God’s redemptive plan for this world.

So I have to ask myself, how do I want to ask to be blessed? Does I want to further my way of life and in doing so risk cutting myself off from God’s plan?

Or do I really yield my view of what this world is – what success and failure look like – and ask for God to bless me in ways beyond which I could ever imagine.

There is this image in Genesis that I’ve never really been sure what to do with: Adam and God walking together in the garden.

Just a man and his creator, working their way through the day together. And it seems like this image has transferred through time to become a driving metaphor for our faith today – to have a walk with God.

Walks are boring to me.

Walks require slowing down the pace of things for me. And I don’t often do that.

Walks require enjoying the journey and not just the destination.

Walks give time to talk about what’s right in front – the present moment. And my mind is rarely in the moment.

Walks will tell you a lot about who you’re walking with if you let them take the lead.

But walks aren’t on my top 10 amazing things to do on a Friday night list.

And honestly, neither is prayer.

Which is why I think prayer is where we find ourselves deepest in this metaphor – walking with God.

When we pray, we have to slow down the pace of things long enough to have a conversation with God.

When we pray, we realize that life isn’t just about the destination, but that God is shaping us through the journey.

When we pray, we get to talk to God about what we’re going through – in the present moment. And much of life in America is designed to numb ourselves from thinking too much about the present moment. It’s just easier to self-medicate with TV, escape with the next project, drown the moment with the internet.

When we pray, we let God take the lead and sometimes we learn things about him that challenge us deeply and call us to change profoundly.

So “going on a walk” may never be the most compelling faith metaphor for me. But what I find when I take the time to walk with God is so deeply profound, challenging, disturbing, encouraging and moving, that I find myself wanting to live life differently and dive into a prayer experience with God that could only be described as… well, walking with him.