Sunday, December 30, 2018

A New Year's prayer, one year later

Yesterday, I stood and worshiped in the same church where I'd stood and worshiped 364 days ago on New Year's Eve. We sang, "Blessed be your name in the land that is plentiful... and blessed be your name when I'm found in the desert place..." and I remembered this Sunday last year. 

That day, I sat with my teammates, Carole and Victor. Before the first song, they whispered to me the news they'd just learned: their entire ministry, a Cambodian teacher training program, had to stop immediately following an unexpected new government decree. ("Private institutions may not train teachers.") It wasn't aimed at the school where they taught, or even at foreigners/Christians/nonprofits in general, but they were still collateral damage. And I thought to myself, What in the world does the coming year hold? 

I thought I knew what I came back to Cambodia to do. Suddenly I hadn't a clue. 

Earlier that day, I'd written this prayer:

Throughout 2018, would You please produce in me...
  • More concern about how well I'm loving others, and less concern about how well they're loving me
  • More reliance on the Holy Spirit who indwells me, and less reliance on my to-do list
  • More stable joy, and less pursuit of fleeting happiness
  • More awe of Your image in others, and less comparison of myself to them
  • More time in the Good Book, and less time on Facebook
  • More generous hospitality, and less fear of man
  • More fervent intercession, and less fruitless worry
  • More diligence in language practice, and less arrogance about the undeserved gift You've given me
  • More liberty, and less license or legalism
  • More godliness with contentment (which is great gain), and less striving for meaningless gain
  • More wholehearted worship, and less adulterous idolatry
  • More words of encouragement, and fewer words of advice
Jesus, you promise that whatever I ask in Your Name according to Your will, the Father will give me. When I bear much fruit, I'm revealed as Your disciple, and the Father is glorified (John 15:8). That's what You want for my life, and that's what I want too. 


It felt like too many things, but I wasn't sure which ones to take out, so I just left them all in. I taped the prayer above my bed. I wish I could say I'd read it and prayed through it weekly, or that I'd had a concrete action plan to help me form new habits. But I did occasionally revisit it, and it always reoriented me toward truth.

And you know what? These are some of the key areas I've been growing in this year. This prayer trickled into a lot of other prayers on my balcony and on my moto, in my kitchen and in the classroom. One means of growth came within hours, as I digested the whispered news from Carole and Victor. Others came through new friendships that went from surface-y to glimpses of someone's inner heart. Others came through friends and loved ones carrying much heavier burdens than mine, where I was powerless to do anything but cry out to God with them. Still others came through seemingly unchanging situations that changed me over time.

For some points on the list, I think, "Oof! Did I grow at all?" For others, I'm not where I used to be, but I'm still so far from where I could be. It's OK. I can celebrate my progress even while longing for more. On December 31, 2018, I'm not who I was on December 31, 2017. I can see God's faithfulness so clearly in the way He's provided opportunities and challenges to abandon my plans and embrace His, to scoff at my broken cisterns (like self-importance and people-pleasing) and take deep gulps of His springs of living water (Jeremiah 2:13). 

Pastor Daren preached last New Year's Eve, and I wrote down one of his comments. "One of the greatest temptations that will face us in 2018 is discontentment - an affront to God's goodness and sovereignty." Hmm, maybe that was the key to understanding my vanishing ministry plans and a couple other situations that I was less than thrilled about. Maybe the battle was less about finding the right thing to do, and more about embracing a right heart attitude. Inspired by that comment, I went home and started singing the Oh Hellos' "Exeunt," addressing it to self-pity and grumbling.

Now, I am not the fool I was when I was younger
Crocodile eyes, I have seen how you hunger
Fluttering your lashes, like ashes and embers
Warm and bright as fire devouring timber
No, I cannot trust what you say when you're grieving
So, my love, I'm sorry, but still: I am leaving

Even when you hunt me with ire, relentless
Batter down my door when you find me defenseless
I will not abide all your raging and reaving
I have set my mind and my will: I am leaving

I wouldn't say I've left grumbling behind yet. But as a language nerd, I like that the song ends with the present continuous tense: I am leaving. It's ongoing.

For 2019, I don't have a new list. I think I'll keep going with this one. But in reflecting yesterday, I was reminded of a post by special needs mom and gifted writer Kara Dedert that I read last year shortly after writing this prayer, a post I liked so much that I saved it to revisit now:

I don't have a list of resolutions for the new year to better myself or my life. I've tried that, maybe made a few small changes, but the real change comes from someone else - Jesus. So I want my focus to be all wrapped up in Him. 

I want my feet to walk on purposely thru dark nights when faith seems pointless. 
My hands to reach out to those around me, carrying each other along the way and inviting others to walk the way of the cross with us. 
My eyes quick to see the weight of glory that is coming. 
Whether I'm enjoying art, writing or music - may it whisper His name. 
When investing in friendships - may it lead to eternal bonds in Christ. 
When I read, fellowship, pray and worship - may it be water to a living faith that is growing in Christ. 
When I clean my home and spend oodles of time with my kids - may it be the setting where Christ is rooted in their hearts and His grace trumps my very imperfect mothering. 
When I care for Calvin's needs and feel angry and helpless when he suffers, may I remember Christ became broken to overcome ours and is making all things new. 

I'm broken and very flawed, but walking the way of the cross heals me and breathes life into every aspect of my life. My plan is to keep breathing in that life in 2018.

A few sentences are specific to her life, and I can tailor them to fit mine. But she's named my top goal for 2019: to breathe Christ's life into every arena of my own life.