***I'd like to introduce Jessica Everingham who will be guest posting on Thinking Thoughts today. Enjoy her insight into prayer and true success.***
God is far away, my life’s work is for nothing,
and I am all alone.
and I am all alone.
As a writer struggling to kick-start my career, self-doubt and discouraging thoughts come to visit me on a regular basis. This experience of waiting, along with some other disappointments, is testing my perseverance and faith.
This mental picture of prayer (below) came to me a little over six months ago, while I was at a prayer meeting for a youth outreach event. And it’s been refreshing water to a thirsty little flower:
The walls of my bedroom fall away as I step onto the dance floor. My pajamas have been replaced by the most elegant lace dress you can imagine. Fairy lights twinkle instead of stars. And He’s there. Waiting.My prayer life hasn’t been the same since that day. God meets me on the dance floor all the time. I know that He’s never far away, and I no longer picture my prayers bouncing off the ceiling like ping pong balls. It’s such a relief.
He is always there when I arrive - no matter what time of day or night. Dressed in His tux, hands outstretched, ready for me. Sometimes I’m so amazed that He wants to spend time with me, I fall on my face at the edge of the dance floor. I don’t move till He comes, picks me up and we start to dance. But other times, I fling myself at Him. He always catches me and holds me tight as I sob out my troubles. And then there are days when I just walk up to Him, step into His arms and we start to waltz.
We talk as we glide across the polished floor. I tell Him about my day, my worries, my relationships and my dreams. But the conversation isn’t the most important thing. Don’t get me wrong; I know He’s interested in what I’m saying. He smiles, He empathizes, He cries, and above all, He listens. And I’m definitely interested in what He has to say. But more than anything, I just want to be there. I just want Him to hold me. And He does.
My favorite time is when we’re slowly rocking; my face resting on his shoulder, His arms tight around me. It’s like His love soaks through my dress, my skin, into the core of my being. And it’s then that I remember.
I remember that it doesn’t matter if I’m a writer or not. It doesn’t matter if I’m successful, if I’m financially secure or if I’m popular. I don’t have to be where I expected in life; I don’t need to have everyone’s praise.
I am His. That’s all that counts. And when I remember that, that’s when my worries fade away and I have peace.
Before the dance floor, I knew in my head that God listened, saw and cared about my life. And I tried to remember that. But it’s this experience of being stretched, hanging in there and meeting with God ‘personally’ on the dance floor, that’s helping me understand that truth in my heart.
On the dance floor I know that I’m talking to a Person, not a ceiling. I see the empathy in His face, feel the squeeze of His loving hug and remember the tremendous power that lies in those arms. The dance floor takes the focus off my problems, because when I’m there I’m confronted with the reality of Him: His endless love; His enormous power; His all-seeing wisdom.
And when I see that, I can’t even remember what I was worried about.
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