Help my unbelief.

If you have spent any length of time in the Church or just happened to catch it on the given Sunday, you have probably heard a sermon about prayer.  Too often, this sermon topic is presented/interpreted as emphasizing the need of prayer for others; a friend, a neighbor, a city, or a greater injustice or cause to be triumphed…that we should be less selfish and more kingdom-focused. 

While there is a degree of merit to this, an unchecked selflessness can derail even the best intentioned.  Derailment stems from guilt—guilt from petitioning too frequently or about “needs” considered too frivolous.  It derails us from that which God has called us to be; not only fishers of men, but also his children.

Fishers of men.  A royal priesthood.  A chosen people.  All pose a heavy burden of leadership, accountability, and service that demand strength, perseverance, and resolve—or at least the appearance of them.

Children.  Sheep.  Branches of the Vine.  All metaphors of our dependence on Christ, our idiocy, and our human inadequacy.

When we strictly and solely emphasize the former posture in our prayer life, we deceive ourselves into thinking that (1) God cannot work in and for others without our participation and (2) we are unwanting or undeserving of continued and further intimacy with Christ, thereby attempting to limit what God can do and wants to do in us.

Enter: psychology.

Every person has their own “issues” or—as some like to brand it—“personality”.  It is unavoidable.

God made us and called us.  Our humanity shaped us.  For the good and the bad.

We are the sum of our strengths and weaknesses.  That is how the world measures our soul.  As Christians, we have a terrible habit of using the same metric.

Few people would concede to intentionally and knowingly indulging their weaknesses.  But, I do: I often make a choice to pray for others over my own wants, desires, and questions of faith.

To be perfectly honest: it is SO much easier to pray for someone or something else. 

No one wants to take inventory of his or her Christianity.  No one wants to ask themselves the tough questions.  No one wants to confront God with a list of grievances and demands.  No one wants to risk being angry with God and face the potential fallout. 

No one wants lie in bed at night with tears streaming down their face because of how alone they feel or frustrated they have become with life.

No one wants to admit their unbelief.

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I don’t doubt His existence.

I see His work all around me.

It’s quite strange: the times I am most convinced of Him are the times I feel He is most distant from me.  When I am most insulated by His grace and goodness, I feel the most insignificant.

But this conscious choice I make to avoid praying about my unbelief is my own Achilles heel. 

Dependence is uncomfortable. It’s messy.  But He accepts it and wants it.  Only when I am fully dependent on Him can I be an effective helper.

I get it—in my mind.  My heart is a different story.

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Lord, teach me to pray for me in a manner that glorifies you and positions me to love others better.