Prayer. Keeping up a consistent prayer life has always been a struggle. I’ve always found myself attempting different things – prayer journals, iPhone note prayers, prayer meetings, prayer requests written in a notebook. The Apostle Paul, in I Thessalonians 5:17, calls us to “pray without ceasing,” as if it’s supposed to be natural, like breathing.
Then there’s parenting, a struggle to say the least, but at the same time a natural instinct that has always existed in nature. Nurturing and protecting your own almost seems like a moral obligation and common sense, yet this is not what we always see, either, in both humans and animals.
Prayer and parenting – the former being something that sustains the life of a Christian and the latter an instinct that seemingly accompanies reproductive ability.
What’s my point?
I have a family now, which has only been the case for the last 14 months. I have a husband and a 9-year-old daughter, who are on my mind daily and constantly creep into my thoughts when I’m grocery shopping or cooking food or cleaning the house or plotting out the next few weeks on the calendar. And with this new life, I am finding myself increasingly challenged to pray. To put it more directly, I find myself gasping for air – often.
My lack of oxygen correlates conveniently with my need to pray – pray for my husband, pray for my daughter, pray for strength and wisdom and patience to care for them and, most importantly – point them to Jesus.
During the first half of this last year, I largely depended on knowledge and experience to deal with my daughter. When methodologies failed, I tweaked, revised, and changed them and tried again. I created order through structure, routine, and schedules. It was madness.
Then, like an unexpected whoosh of unpleasantly cold water dumped over my head, conviction took hold, and I realized I was doing too much. Too much everything – thinking, planning, strategizing, organizing, worrying. I simply needed to pray.
Commitment to prayer changes your life. It alters attitudes, perspectives and priorities. It brings you and those around you closer to Jesus.
But I didn’t need to just to pray more by myself, proverbially kneeling by my bed before tucking in for the night. I needed to pray with my family, actively, intentionally, and consistently. I needed to pray with and for my daughter more than lecture her about the endless things parents feel like they need to lecture their children about. I needed to pray for and with my husband more than air out my complaints and frustrations to him.
I needed to stop cutting off the oxygen supply to my family and PRAY, not because the life of my family depends on it but because my own life as a Christian depends on it.
So this is what I’ve started to do, and the pitfalls of self-righteousness are everywhere. It sounds simple enough to merely advise my daughter to say a prayer every time she has a problem and then walk away and continue loading the dishwasher. But am I saying a prayer every time I have a problem? I could check it off my list every time I prayed for my husband’s devotional life, but am I being faithful in studying the Word every day?
In closing, I am going to share with you all just a snapshot of what I’ve begun to experience as a parent.
Wednesdays are our home school day, since my daughter’s school is a home school extension academy that only has classes four days a week. Suffice it to say that I deal with a child who’s emotions and attention span are akin to a roller coaster or a bipolar mood storm. Things today were off to a rough start, so I decided that we were going to start with prayer before going over the plan for the day.
My daughter began to pray, adhering to my request. I bowed my head with her. She began thanking God for all the things that he’s given us, for her little sister, for her family, for dying for us – and that’s where her words became tears.
(I saw myself right then. Just another soul struggling to accept God’s love, a struggle I was personally familiar with. Another soul coming up against the difficulties we all face.)
I prayed for her silently. After a few minutes, she finished her prayer. We looked at each other, tears in both of our eyes. She came over to me and we hugged. When she finally pulled away, I sent her to clean out her nose and then got out the white board with the day’s agenda.
That was how our day began. No lectures or inspirational quotes or motivational speeches about being positive and confident in ourselves. Just prayer. And whatever happened in my girl’s heart that altered her mood was beyond any parenting trick I could ever invent.
It’s in these moments that I remember I do not have the power to give my children what they truly need. God does.