On the Rock

It had been a hard year, and it felt like there was more to come.

The recession was merciless on our small business.

We had bills we didn't know how to pay.

The president seemed bound and determined to ruin both the public and private sectors.

The United Nation was looking at ratifying the "Rights of the Child."

It just felt like everywhere we turned, there was only bad news.

So, Brett and I started to pray.

We have learned through many challenges over the years, that hard times are God's tool for reshaping us, for conforming us to His image.

And when His sheep have hearts of stone, I can see why.

Only the constant drip of Water

or the catastrophe of searing Heat

or the intensity of incredible Pressure

is able to change the form of stone,

to wear it smooth

and transform it from a sharp-edged stumbling block

to a heart God can use.

And having learned that lesson about our Maker,

Brett opened with his now usual, "Thank you for today and all the troubles it brings."

It wasn't a sarcastic statement.

Neither was it fatalistic.

It was a humble statement from an honest sheep who has bowed to the sovereign work of his father's hand.

It was the honest rest in tribulation by a man who has wrestled with counting it all joy.

But as Brett began to make his appeal to God for all the cares that were weighing us down,

a picture began to form in my mind....

I saw the black thunderheads swirling. They were low and dark and ominous.

I saw the wind-whipped waves and the white caps.

I saw my whole family, all twelve of us, standing together in this storm.

We were huddled together for protection and warmth.

Our hair was whipping across our faces.

And I said, "Yes, Lord, this is an accurate picture of what I feel today.

But where are YOU in this picture?!"

And He said, "I am the Rock you are standing on."

In my mind's eye, the camera panned back. Suddenly I could see our feet.

And we were all standing on a

huge rock.

The waves crashed about us...

...and our feet weren't even wet.

And as Brett continued to pray, I kept my focus on that Rock.

That's what prayer does.

It reminds us that we are small and God is big.

And He is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine.

Prayer works the dual miracle of softening the rock that is my heart

and drawing me back to stand on The Rock.

Later in the year, we snapped a family photo to stick in the Christmas cards. We had tried all kinds of settings, and getting a picture of twelve people to turn out is no small feat.

Imagine my surprise when we got home to look over the proofs...

and the best shot had us all positioned on and around a huge rock.

I smiled as I realized that God had given me a very tangible expression of the vision in my mind.

And every time I see it,

And when I labor in prayer,

I am reminded that

we are a family on The Rock.

Standing in the Gap: A Family Affair

He was just a fourteen-year-old boy.

He had arrived in the land of opportunity, alone, all the way from the village of Katowice, Poland, to make a new life for himself.

Could be that Lady Liberty was the first thing he saw.

Or it could be that he was so caught up in his own plight that he barely paid her any mind.

No matter.

It was a new start for this poor, young Pole.

Later, he would meet the love of his life, playing in a wedding band. They would marry and raise four children.

He was Dzadzi (Juj-ee), my great-grandfather.

And somewhere along the way, Dzadzi met THE Love of his life: Jesus.

My mom tells me stories of her visits to Dzadzi and Bapci (Bup-shee). And one of her vivid memories was him on his knees. Dzadzi was an intercessor, especially for his family. Specifically, he labored in prayer for years, burdened for the salvation o f the next four generations.

I am that fourth generation.

My own grandfather, Dzadzi's son, gave me similar memories. When I would spend the night with my grandparents, Grandma and I would stay up late playing games and consuming munchies.

But Grandpap would quietly excuse himself early.

And that's when he would go to his knees at his bedside in prayer.

Like his father before him, Grandpap was an intercessor, too.

Grandpap's daughter is my mother. And I have memories of her (from the time I was a child all the way into my adulthood) sitting on the porch with her Bible and her coffee, her eyebrows knit together, sometimes in fervent prayer with silently moving lips, sometimes in quiet meditation. And it was common to see my dad in the early morning hours pacing in the living room, conversing with the Lord. Unlike my great-grandfather and my grandfather, who were quiet and reverent on their knees, my father's prayers were upright, out loud, passionate and bold.

Even today, my parents still have 'the white board' kept in a discreet place where they keep their prayer requests for their children and grandchildren and close friends. They are not only intercessors; they are a team of intercessors.

So, it's probably not surprising that I, too, find myself drawn to intercession. I distinctly remember when I was twelve years old, asking my dad to start waking me up in the morning so that I could read and pray. And, over the years, the Lord has gradually added specific burdens, turning my prayer time largely to intercession.

Dzadzi.

Grandpap.

Dad and Mom.

Me.

Seems that intercession has become a family calling...

one that the generations before me have walked in faithfully...

one that I hope the generations after me will walk in faithfully.

Prayer is labor.

It is a labor of the soul.

And whether on their knees or on their feet, my family demonstrated to me both the power of prayer and the privilege of coming before the Throne of Grace.

"I searched for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand in the gap before Me for the land, so that I would not destroy it; but I found no one." Ezekiel 23:20