Where were you when...?

There are only a handful of historical events that prompt that question. The assassination of President Kennedy. The Beatles first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. Man landing on the moon. And, especially this week on the fifteenth anniversary: Where were you when the planes hit the buildings on 9-11?

I will never forget where I was.

Just a few days before September 11th, 2001, I attended a Turn the Tide Promise Keepers conference in Indianapolis with dozens of men from my church. One of speakers that weekend issued a rather daunting challenge. I remember it vividly. He said, "I am going to ask you to do something you're probably not going to want to do. But if you do it. I guarantee it will change your life."

And then it came: "I'm asking you to commit to praying for one hour a day for the next thirty days."

He was right. I didn't want to do it. I consider myself a man of prayer, but an hour a day? That's a bit much, isn't it? How could I possibly talk to God for an hour? Even if I prayed by name for every missionary I knew I couldn't fill up an hour. Besides, I reasoned,  I'm a little ADD. I can't do anything for an hour straight.

But, to my surprise, I soon found myself standing to affirm my acceptance of the challenge. Even more surprising, I was able to do it.

For the next thirty days I set aside an hour a day and I prayed. I usually went to talk with God at a golf course near our house. I discovered that the the bike trail that wound around the property took almost exactly sixty minutes to walk. I remember getting up early on some days to pray there before work. There were days I prayed in the rain. After one particularly busy day, I remember falling into bed exhausted and was half-asleep before it hit me that I hadn't gotten in my hour. I got up, got dressed, and walked the bike trail with God. My prayer began with my asking forgiveness for what I said as I was getting out of bed.

At the conclusion of the thirty days I concluded that the speaker was right about something else. The experience changed my life. That extended time with God deepened my dependence on Him. It strengthened my faith. It helped me to trust Him--something that due to painful childhood experiences has always been difficult for me to do.

The prayer challenge also made me realize that up until that point in my life, my definition of prayer was wrong. Prayer is not talking to God. Prayer is talking with God. Teacher and pastor Andrew Murray once said, "Prayer is not monologue, but dialogue. God’s voice in response to mine is its most essential part."  

There were many times during our hour together when I was silent and simply revelled in God's words to me: I delight in you. I treasure you. I have your name written on my hand. I will always be here for you. Don't be afraid. Don't be anxious. Nothing will separate you from my love.  

So where was I when the planes hit the buildings on 9-11? As the nation was in turmoil, I was on the bike trail at Wicker Park Golf Course in Highland, Indiana talking with God--basking in His presence, experiencing His peace, feeling the depth of His love.

Interesting, isn't it? For the remainder of my 30-day challenge, I found that an hour a day in prayer wasn't nearly enough. As the unrest of the country was stirred in historic proportions, I found rest in the presence of God. 

To this day, I relish my times alone with God. I have even integrated regular prayer days into my schedule. My 9-11 experience taught me well. When the craziness of this world threatens to bring me down, God--my Rock, my Strength and Shield, the Lover of my soul--is only a prayer away. And no matter what circumstances may swirl around me, trying to bully me into submission, I can hear the affirming voice of our God: I delight in you. I treasure you. I have your name written on my hand. I will always be here for you. Don't be afraid. Don't be anxious. Nothing will separate you from my love.  

For most of my life I believed that the definition of prayer was simply talking to God. So, whenever I prayed, I talked. And talked and talked and talked. I told God all the things I wanted. Yes, I also offered Him praise for being God; I thanked Him for all the blessings in my life; I asked forgiveness for doing and saying things I shouldn't have done or said. But, most of all, I told Him all the things I wanted. 

And I did all the talking.

I found that my prayer time was becoming more and more shallow. God seemed more and more distant. And with more and more frequency I was coming away empty.

Then one day, as I once again found myself talking incessantly as I went through the motions of prayer, it dawned on me. Prayer is, by definition, communication with God. Not to God. With God. That suggests that both parties be involved in both speaking and listening. Hmmm.

I've done enough premarital counseling to know that two people can't have much of a relationship if one person is doing all the talking and the other is doing all the listening. That kind of relationship certainly wouldn't be based on love. And without love, there could be no intimacy. And what has been the Creator's greatest desire since the beginning of time? To have a loving, intimate, relationship with His children.

For me, that loving, intimate relationship began the first day my prayers became two-way communication with God. It is when my prayers began to include my listening as well as talking that God's active presence in my life became real. That is when I discovered that His Word, His truth, His promises were meant for me.

If you have found your prayer life has become routine;  if you've been pouring your heart out to God only to find that nothing ever changes; if your alone time with God leaves you feeling more alone, perhaps it's time to give Him the floor.

Instead of giving Him a list of all the things you want, let Him share with you what He wants. Rather than telling Him your plans for your life, let Him share with you His plan. Instead of offering Him words of praise, let Him offer words of praise to you.

When you give God a voice you will find that it is intoned with biblical truths. Listen intently to His words and imagine them coming from His mouth. Allow His Word--Scripture that you may have kept locked between your ears--to sink into the depths of your heart. 

He has so much to share with you...

Oh, my child. How good it is to spend time with you. I treasure these moments. That's because I treasure you. I paid a very high price for you, you know!

I am honored when you bring your requests to Me. You need never be concerned that your desires aren't important; if something matters to you, it matters to Me. 

I want you to lay your burdens before Me. But often before you leave, you pick them all up again and take them with you. I want you to know that you can leave them with Me. You can trust Me with whatever burdens and heartaches you have. I want to carry them so you don't have to. It is when you let them go that I will give you what I long for you to experience in times of trouble--rest for your soul. 

I know that sometimes you don't feel worthy to be in My presence because of things you've done or said. You're ashamed because you've sinned against Me. You have not always been faithful to Me. But I want you to know this: I will always be faithful to you. I will not only forgive you, but, if you ask, I will help you to forgive yourself. It is not my plan that you go through life cowering under a cloud of shame and regret. My desire is to prosper you, to give you hope and a future. I long for you to walk with confidence and assurance, knowing that you are fully forgiven and fully loved. Remember, nothing can ever separate you from My love.

Remember, my child, that my lap is always open. I look forward to spending time with you. That’s because I love you. And not because of anything you’ve done. But because of who you are. You. Are. Mine. 

This is a guest post by my daughter, Traci Meeder. Traci and her husband, Eric, live in North Carolina where Traci is an elementary school teacher and Eric serves in the Marines.

Stare. It’s what I do when I’ve sobbed every tear I can muster. I’m too exhausted to cry and too worked up to sleep. So I stare. And I wonder what I could have done differently, what I should have done differently. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me, and then worry that it will happen again. That’s when panic strikes and I can’t breathe. I can’t let my mind go there. I can’t think about the possibility of losing another baby. I’ve already lost two in the last six months.

Miscarriage. I have a hard time saying it out loud. Typing seems easier because there’s no one here to give me pitying glances. So here I am. Typing about my loss because I need to talk about it, but I can’t in real life yet.

We found out just before Thanksgiving that we were going to have our first baby. It seemed fitting at the time to celebrate a pregnancy in a season of thankfulness. That’s how we felt. Thankful. We wanted to start a family. I have several friends who struggle with infertility, so I know it’s quite common for pregnancy to take a long time. But it didn’t for us. We got pregnant right away. For that, we felt thankful.

We told our families at Christmas. This was going to be Eric’s parents’ first grandchild and my parents’ third. There was much celebrating and talks of baby names and baby showers. The family was already making plans to visit at the end of July after the baby was born. There was morning sickness, headaches, and very small bump beginning to form. It was all starting to feel very real. We were going to be parents.

It was the next week that I had the ultrasound. The tech was silent as she maneuvered the device and took pictures. She didn’t even look at us. I could already see on the screen that there was nothing there. We were ushered into the waiting room, then into an examination room where we waited for over an over for a doctor to confirm what we already knew: there was no baby.

I’d had what’s called a blighted ovum. The embryo implants in the uterus but never becomes a fetus. By that time, the body is already in pregnancy-mode and continues to produce pregnancy symptoms. It’s sometimes called a “missed miscarriage” because women typically don’t have symptoms of miscarriage until long after the baby has passed. That’s exactly what happened to me. I had no reason to believe there was anything wrong with my pregnancy. That is, until the silent ultrasound. I was thirteen weeks at that point and fourteen weeks when I finally had to get a D&C.

Eric and I decided we’d try again after his training in April. That would give us time to grieve and give my body time to heal. My sister in law asked if I felt ready emotionally. I told her I didn’t think I’d ever feel ready emotionally. Getting pregnant again doesn’t undo the pain of losing a child. I knew I’d be more scared, more cautious, more anxious the second time around. But I also knew we were ready to be parents.

Again, we got pregnant right away. We were so excited and so relieved, but we didn’t want to get our hopes up. It was still very early. We decided not to tell any family until after I’d been to the doctor and had an ultrasound.

I had blood work done on Saturday and again on Monday. When you’re pregnant, your hormone levels double or triple every couple of days. My levels dropped 75%. I have a doctor appointment today at one, but I already know what he’s going to tell me. I’ve lost another child.

He’ll probably tell me it’s not my fault, that I’m perfectly healthy and there’s nothing I could have done differently. But I won’t believe him because this has happened twice now. It’s happened twice and I can’t accept him telling me that everything is okay, that I’m okay. Because I’m not.

The pain is fresh and washes over me, leaving me gasping for air and grasping at hope that appears just out of reach. It comes in waves that I never see coming. Sometimes it’s a song or a sermon. Sometimes it’s a baby or a pregnant belly. Sometimes it’s my husband. I look at him and know he will be the best dad in the world. He has a big smile and an even bigger heart. He is filled with such love, kindness, patience and an affinity for Legos. He should get to be a dad. He’s meant to be a dad.

I know God is here, but I’m not ready to pray just yet. My only question is “Why?” and there is no answer. So I cry until I can’t cry anymore and trust that God is crying with me. He’ll be there when I’m ready to talk.

I know there are thousands of women who have been in my shoes. Honestly, that doesn’t make me feel any less alone. It doesn’t make my heart ache less or calm the knots in my stomach. It doesn’t help me sleep better or cry less or hope more. This is my grief and I don’t know what to do with it.

So I stare.

And I wonder when it is I’ll breathe again.

Pray for me. Pray for others who can’t pray for themselves just yet.

I find it interesting that of all the incredibly amazing things the disciples saw Jesus do, Scripture records only one thing that the disciples asked Him to teach them how to do. 

Now, bear in mind, these guys saw Jesus some pretty unbelievable things. They watched Him make blind people see and deaf people hear, just by touching them. Pretty cool, huh? They stood in awe as he fed over 5,000 people with just a couple loaves of bread and five fish fillets. That would impress your friends. They were at a wedding reception with Him and saw Him with their own eyes change water into wine. That would make you popular at parties! 

Yet, the disciples did ask Him to teach them how to do any of these things. Nor did they ask Him His secret in calming a storm and walking on water and bringing dead people back to life so they could do the same.

There is but one thing the disciples saw Jesus do that they needed to know how to do themselves. They asked, "Lord, teach us to pray" (Luke 11:1, NIV). Why? Because they saw the difference it made in Him. Jesus quite often wandered off to spend some alone time with His Father. And the change in Him after being in the Father's presence was so obvious that the disciples asked, Will You teach us how to do that?

We would be wise to carve out regular time alone with our Heavenly Father as well; to make it a habit to spend private time with Him on a regular basis. To share with Him our desires. To be reminded of His. To seek His wisdom, His forgiveness, His blessing. To thank Him for already blessing us more than we deserve. Or, to simply crawl up in His lap and feel the warmth, the security, the tenderness of His embrace.

And we, too, can expect to be changed. So much so that others around us will notice. The truth is, we can’t have a soul encounter with God and come back unchanged.