When the weather station says there’s a thirty percent chance of precipitation today and it’s currently raining outside, does that mean there’s a thirty percent chance that it will continue to rain or am I simply a victim of outdated news services?
And when my muse digresses into discussion of the weather, does that mean the weather has become intensely interesting or that absolutely nothing of great interest has taken place today?
“There were tears when Lydia and I arrived without you,” Mom informed me over the phone from the S Family’s house. “Here’s someone who would like to talk to you.” “Hi Agigail,” comes the sweet, little voice from the other end. “Hello Miss S…this is S, isn’t it?” Silence. Then I hear voices in the background. “She’s vigorously nodding,” I hear Miss J giggle. S’s voice again, “You doin’ good?” I could see her earnest little eyes as she talked over play phones to me the last time I babysat and feel her warm little hand tug at my sleeve when she handed me a picture. Plain and simple it goes like this: I miss the them.
I’ve come to an important revelation. I don’t pray enough. Pray without ceasing is the command I’ve received. I pray intermittently. Infrequently. Once in a while. When something bothers me. Usually for myself. In God’s Word I keep coming across instances of intercession. God reveals something He is about to do to one of His friends—we’ll say it’s Abraham and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, this time. And what is His friend’s reaction? Immediately to plead with God, according to His character and will. God has revealed so much to me, through the pages of His Word. Soon He will destroy the whole world and judge righteousness. How often do I pray for those who still live in rebellion to Him? Every day, you think? Perhaps if I did, I might be esteemed of God, even as Daniel was.
Lord, Thou sit as King of all
Thy ears are open to my call,
The curtain has been torn asunder
It must cause Thy soul to wonder
Why I linger long without
And keep myself busied about
So that my thoughts are never free
To waft as prayers up to Thee.
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