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Monday, April 29, 2013

I go to my knees…


When Solomon had finished all these prayers and supplications to the Lord, he rose from before the altar of the Lord, where he had been kneeling with his hands spread out toward heaven.
1 Kings 8:54 (NIV)

As I child, I was taught to pray on my knees. I remember the ritual; with mommy, daddy, my grandparents, when it was time for prayer, we kneeled. Even as a congregation, at altar call, we knelt. I remember being fascinated at the obedience of the aged mothers of the church, prayer warriors before I even knew the term, slowly, gingerly, sometimes with assistance, taking to their knees. It was powerful.

At some point, I stopped. Not praying, but kneeling to do so. I don’t remember when or why, but it was enough to open a dialogue, sometimes an on-going conversation. I didn’t mean any harm, and I don’t believe any was done. I prayed. My prayers were heard. I chased God and saw His Glory. 

I go to my knees. I needed a new 

means to confess my brokenness, 
to act through that brokenness to seek the Throne.
It was enough, until it wasn’t. It wasn’t about changing my prayers, it was about changing me. I needed a humbling, I needed a new means to confess my brokenness, to act through that brokenness to seek the throne. It’s an even deeper appreciation of the soundtrack to my OneWord I find that for me, the act of humbling myself is connected to my acknowledgement of my brokenness. My broken heart, even my weary body is part of my humbly proffered sacrifice, and the act alone draws me nigh.

So, twice daily, upon rising and before I take to my bed, I go to my knees. It is a beautiful thing, this humbling. There is a sacredness in the act of kneeling to pray not unlike my powering down before Sabbath rest that gives me a greater appreciation.

So, I go to my knees. Not doing so was enough, until it wasn’t. It wasn’t about changing my prayers, it was about changing me. I needed a humbling, a new manifestation of my brokenness. I embrace the change. I asked God to enlarge my territory, and perhaps this kneeling is the price of my obedience.

So, I go to my knees.  I go gratefully. I go expectantly, knowing He will meet me there. I go in the silence, I go in weariness. I go. 

What is God challenging you to do? Won't you tell me about it? Perhaps we can pray about it together?

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