As the curtain was descending on the former millennium, and a spirit of renewed optimism had filled much of the world’s air, it didn’t even enter a cubic millimeter of mine. My home had broken apart and I was out of the ministry I so loved. My life had become intolerable.
I struggled every day just to crawl out of bed because I had to go to work. Like everybody else, I still had bills to pay. Sundays proved even harder because that meant going to the very place where my emotional pain was greatest. Like a dagger being plunged into my heart, I had to sit in some less-than-familiar sanctuary and attempt to worship, knowing I could no longer do what I most loved to do.
By God’s Grace, I never missed a day of work or a Sunday in corporate worship. But you know what I did miss? praying passionately, believingly, and even coherently as I was an emotional basket case. The one prayer I prayed consistently was but five terse words, “Father, please take me home.”
Obviously, God chose not to answer that prayer – at least not according to my will. He did answer it according to His; and hindsight, I’m loving my second chance at everything!
I invite you to Live Stream with us this Sunday morning at 10 am as we “dig deeper” into a passage of Scripture that reflects what my prayer life “sounded” like during those very dark days? I’ve entitled the sermon, “The Silent Prayer.”
