Highway for God

One of my favorite things to do during the Christmas season is listen again to my CD of Handel’s Messiah.  I used to sing it in college with the College/Community choir and I love listening to the different parts and solos, singing along with the anthems. It amazes me how the music speaks, how it enhances and supplements the words themselves.

The other day I was listening to Every Valley Shall Be Exalted and following along with the words in Isaiah 40. “Prepare ye the way of the Lord”. Advent is a time to spiritually prepare for the celebration of the birth of Christ. What does it mean to prepare? Isaiah talks about a straight highway for God to arrive on. To prepare the road, the valleys must be filled in, the hills flattened down, the crooked places made straight, and the rough places made smooth.  I don’t think God has ever actually needed a physical road, straight or otherwise, but since the Kingdom of God is within us, it must be a highway of the heart.

How does my heart need to be prepared for the coming of the Messiah? What valleys need to be filled in? What do I lack, that I need to receive from him? Patience, peace, joy. What hills, or even mountains, need to be ground down? What stands up too high in my life, blocking my view of the coming King? Maybe pride, or my anxious thoughts. What crooked places in me need to be made straight? What rough places need to be smoothed out? My impatience, my busyness, the way I speak to my kids.

The voice cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way for the Lord.” But I need him to help me prepare, to raise up my valleys and grind down my hills, to smooth and straighten. And then, guess what amazing thing comes next:

“Then the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together! The Lord has spoken!”

When our hearts are prepared, he will come to us in a new way, shine his glory into us, and it will be obvious to everyone. That’s what I want. Let’s get ready!

The Things I Don't Pray About

There are some things I don’t pray about.  Weather. Mild family illnesses. Getting to sleep. I used to pray about these things. In the middle of the night, trying to get a fussy baby to sleep. The week before a camping trip, when the forecast calls for rain all weekend. When a head cold sneaks in at the most inconvenient of times. I used to beg God to intervene, to make the child go to sleep, stop the rain, and banish the cold. And He usually didn’t. Then I would be frustrated, mad at Him for not changing the situation, as I knew He could if He wanted to. So rather than be disappointed, rather than be angry, I stopped praying about those sorts of things. I wasn’t sulking, not resentful. I plainly told God I would not be asking Him to change those situations anymore, except in the most undemanding of ways—“If it’s okay with You, if You don’t mind,  if it doesn’t mess up any of your other plans. . . . “

Until a couple of weeks ago. I was up all night with Noah and a ruthless stomach virus. If you’ve ever been up with a miserably sick child, you know what that’s like. What I wanted to do was to pray for God to stop it, to make it end, to take it away. Immediately. But I found myself praying differently this time. I prayed for His strength to make it through the night, for Him to help us, to be with us. And His answer, whispered to my heart, was always, “I Am”. His presence was there. He did give strength. Throughout the night, during and after each new episode of misery, and as I lay trying to rest between them, I asked Him to help us and be with us. And each time: “I Am.”

As a parent, if my children are miserable and I have the power to change the situation for them, I would do it. I don’t understand why, with the ability to change things, He chooses not to. But I’m not as wise as He is.  And I do see, in the middle of what’s happening, He does not abandon us.  He is there.  And that, actually, is enough.

It’s not like this idea is new to me. I’ve heard it before. Read it before. But it hasn’t really changed the way I pray. Until now. Now there’s nothing I won’t pray about. Because, although I don’t understand, although I may not agree with His choices, I know He’s with me. And it’s enough.