Sifted Prayers

In my mind there are two types of desperate prayers.

There are those that come from a place of fear and anxiety, as if to say “God, if I don’t get this I don’t know how I will live.” And then there are those that I’ve coined “sifted prayers”. Unfortunately I know the former all too well.

As vivid as if it happened yesterday–I had a moment this past winter where the curtain was pulled back a bit on my motives.

I was at our church — which I must say is one of the most fertile little stomping grounds I’ve ever seen! (Baby boutiques, here is your market). Anyone who has struggled with delay in their dreams could admit to the allure of sin in the form of jealousy when confronted with others who have that very thing for which they long. What is very real and natural pain–that creeps up when I’m reminded of the family I don’t yet have–can, on occasion, turn green with envy.

I hate that.

On this particular Sunday, my heart felt as if I’d just pulled it out of the rinse cycle, soaking with the heaviness of delay. Sometimes it’s the seemingly forever-long adoption process that triggers this … and other times, it’s just the desire to engage in the “rite-of-passage” of pregnancy leading to motherhood.

So as my lips went through the motions of reciting the songs on the screen, the Lord brought a vision before my eyes. I saw a picture of the cross and on that cross was nailed the word “family.”

Although I don’t remember the exact words He spoke, the gist was His inquiry: will you follow Me even if I never give you a family? Will you surrender your life to me even if these dreams never come to fruition? The sobering reality was my response:

As much as I wanted to say “yes”, I just wasn’t there.

Instead the bitterness of gall rose up in me. While I was saddened by my response I knew this wasn’t a time to just give the right answer. Essentially He was saying Sara, it’s time to lay it down.

The days that followed required much from me. I laid out my testimony of grief before Him … and really before myself. I realized what had ensued as a result of this “clinging” to the promise, initially, was that first kind of desperate prayer. I played the scenarios out in my mind … if the adoption had fallen through (as so many times I’d feared it would)… if we’d never have biological children…if we’d watched our friends not only pass through parenthood, but then also onto grandparenthood–while we were sidelined… Could I still follow God? Could I still live a surrendered life? Could I still worship Him? Could I still say, as Job did, “blessed be your name”?

This is where the Holy Spirit came in. After a few days of sitting in these questions He had asked of me, a response came from within me that was so “other”. I knew this wasn’t just the right answer. It was the real answer.

YES.

Yes, Lord, I will follow you unto to death even if I never see the promise. I will live a life solely unto you, even if I never taste the sweetness of holding so close a child that is mine, even if I never know intimately the joys of being a parent.

It was as if a bridge was set out before me on the day that “YES” came. I got an invitation. No longer did I need to stay in the place of desperate-out-of-fear prayer …He had given me a sieve. Or maybe He was the sieve.

It may have been easy to end the journey of prayer right there. Knowing that this question of God had prompted a soul searching that led me to say He was all I wanted…and that I would be satisfied if all I had was Him was by no means insignificant and was an end in itself. However, I couldn’t — and still can’t — deny what came out of that.

Sifted prayers. Desperate prayers. His prayers.

No longer did I need to pray out of a place of fear. My vision got clearer. A partnered heart — trusting, resting in God’s ultimate sovereignty, yet unrelenting in prayer for His promises to come to fruition is powerful.

Why am I writing about this now?

Cause I’m here again.

We’re so close and now we have real identities on the other end of the wait. Any of you parents reading this — imagine the thought of your child, half-way around the world under care that you aren’t overseeing. It’s maddening. I want them home.

But this morning as I prayed it was as if that sieve was rolled out from a corner of the room, circling round-and-round to a stop right in front me.

His questions came again. Will I trust Him to be sovereign if we don’t pass court? Will I still follow Him whole-heartedly if the delay continues and my children have to spend more time in an orphanage?

The wrestling wasn’t as long this time — but I wrestled before my YES came forward.

And then, what I think was the sifted prayers …

Will I pray before June 12th, day-and-night, for God to bring justice for these orphans? Will I not relent in the face of discouraging facts on the ground (more cases not passing court, more children waiting lengthier times for their homecoming)? Will I pray God’s word back to Him that He promises to put the lonely in families and give the barren women a home, “like a joyful mother of children”?

You better believe it.

No time for shrinking back. Lord, bring them home.