It gives me peace and stirs such hope that by the time I’m done, I often feel as if I can move mountains, both through prayer and through sheer determination. But that prayer time is never about seeking immediate healing for anyone, resolution to financial needs, or direct answers.
There’s a time for those prayers, but when I walk the floors praying Scripture, it’s about praying for my family’s hearts (and my own) to be strengthened, for our eyes to be opened to more of who God is, and for the meaning of true success to take root or grow stronger in us. It’s like speaking a blessing over us. I believe the influence of these Scripture prayers will extend to God’s moving in our lives in the months, years, and decades ahead. I believe I’m speaking blessings that will continue to unfold long after I’m gone from this planet. I’m praying and believing for the overall welfare, preservation, and long-term relationship with God of my children, their spouses (or future spouses), and their children, and their children’s children. I have spent a lot of years praying for the safety—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—of my future daughters-in-law.
Because I’m not asking for little favors, and I’m not emotionally stressed about something happening in a person’s life right then, and I’m not needing God to rescue someone—immediately!—it seems that I enter a zone of faith unlike any other prayer time.
I make the scriptures personal, but when I began doing this, there were no books about praying His Word. At first I found it hard to speak such things so boldly over my loved ones. How could I dare take His Word and speak the power of it over little peons like us? It felt as if I thought we were worth more than we actually are.
But I continued the prayer time, wrestling with feelings of inappropriateness toward God. One day while praying, I began to understand. When Christ died on that cross, He made it clear that nothing was too good for us. After all, He’d been brutalized and humiliated to give all little peons everything good God has to offer.
Psalm 127:1–2 says, “Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it: except the LORD keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows.” I consider the house in those verses to be the heart, soul (the mind and will and many emotions), and body of those I love, and I boldly proclaim to Him that I can do my absolute best for my children, and it’s nothing, zilch, nada, unless He’s the one doing the building and protecting each area. If I give my children too much, they could become spoiled or feel superior to others. If I give them too little, they could resent it or feel inferior. We all know there’s no perfect balance in anything on this earth. That’s where God moves in and balances everything out through His work in our hearts, souls, and bodies.
My prayer for each one of you comes from Ephesians: May the eyes of your understanding be enlightened that you may know the hope of His calling, and may you know the riches of the glory of His inheritance in you (see 1:18). May He grant, according to the riches of His glory, that you be strengthened with might by His Spirit in your inner person. Because Christ dwells in your heart by faith, may you be rooted and grounded in love and able to comprehend with all saints the love of Christ. Now to Him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that I ask or think, according to the power that works within us, unto Him be the glory throughout all the ages (see 3:16–21).
From Miriam
The walk down the lane that ran through the field to my sister’s house was quiet and refreshing in the early morning sunshine. After closing the gate that divided our adjoining farms, I walked along the line of trees to her home.
As I entered Sarah’s kitchen, the aromas of fresh-perked coffee and just-baked chocolate-chip cookies welcomed me. I found my sister sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in her hands. I felt somewhat guilty for disturbing her quiet time, but I knew that indulging in a warm chocolate-chip cookie would ease most of that guilt.
Opening her cupboard to get a cup for myself, I noticed her unusual mug collection. My sister has never been one to put much stock in matching sets of beautiful dishes. Instead, she appreciates unique pieces, especially coffee mugs. Many have been given to her by friends or relatives. Several she received as wedding favors. Giving mugs engraved or printed with the names of the bride and groom and their wedding date is common among the Amish.
During my sister’s morning quiet time, she prays for the person or couple who gave her the mug she’s using. No one but God knows how many prayers she’s prayed over those mugs. Or how many of her prayers have been answered. But I believe one of those answers came fourteen months ago when I was blessed with a healthy grandson.
My son and daughter-in-law had been childless for the first three years of their marriage. For an Amish family, this is both rare and problematic. From our earliest memories, three things are ingrained in the Amish: God, community, and family. Careers and prestige are not valued. Children are. A job is important only because that’s how a family is supported. Formal education isn’t important; learning is, but the point of all knowledge is to understand God’s Word as much as possible, to be a help to the community, and to take care of the family financially.
We’re taught that beauty fades, physical strength drains as age progresses, and youthful desires disappear. To the Amish, the only thing on this earth that truly lasts is posterity—future generations. When a couple gets married, they and the entire community anticipate that the new couple will be expecting soon—perhaps within a few months and surely by the couple’s first anniversary.
But my daughter-in-law’s infertile state hadn’t daunted my sister. For months she drank her morning coffee from the mug her nephew had given her at his wedding. And every day she prayed that God would open his wife’s womb, fully believing that the miracle of life would happen in God’s timing.
And indeed it did.
A DAY IN THE LIFE
She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
—PROVERBS 31:27
From Cindy
From ceiling to floor, my home almost glistened with cleanliness. My toddler was in his highchair, and I was feeding him homemade vegetable stew. Even though I was expecting a second child, I was dressed as if I were about to head out the door for church.
In the middle of this picture-perfect moment, my aunt Lillie Mae dropped in. She’d come by to pick up an infant bouncer that belonged to one of her daughters. Although we saw each other at other times, it was her only visit to my home. Afterward she told people I was an amazing homemaker, cook, and mom.
A few months later a neighbor came by unannounced. I had two little ones by that point. I’d been up half the night with the newborn, and I was running a low-grade fever from a recent bout with the flu. My home looked totally disheveled, and I looked even worse. This was my neighbor’s first visit … and her last. The image she left with was completely opposite of my aunt’s.
When I consider the stark contrast of those two events, I am reminded never to feel too good (or too bad) about the snapshot image someone has of me or my home. And I refuse to evaluate someone else by what I observe in a snippet of time—good or bad. More importantly, I realize that self-worth cannot be based on another person’s opinion. It must come from our own hearts. And if we don’t have a balanced viewpoint of who we are? If we often feel buried under condemnation and guilt? Then remember what 1 John 3:20 says: if our own hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts.
From Miriam
My husband and I had an appointment at our home with a loan officer one afternoon. Wanting to make a good impression, my husband insisted that the milking facilities look their best. That was my job.
After a hurried breakfast that morning, leaving the dishes and my kitchen in a complete mess, I rushed out to the barn to shine the place. While the cows contentedly chewed their hay in their milking stalls, I swept and scrubbed the long hallway between the two rows of Holsteins and spread bar
n snow. Several hours of hard work later, I trudged up to the house, relieved that I’d finished the job before the man arrived.
When I opened the door of the house, the children greeted me, still in their pj’s and swollen diapers. Hearing voices from inside, I peeped around the corner and saw my husband sitting at the table with two well-dressed men. The meeting was already in progress, and it was taking place in my dirty kitchen. I was too embarrassed to greet our guests properly, so I skulked through the kitchen like a stray cat.
The gentlemen never did go to the barn or the milk house, which had far more shine than my home. My only consolation was that if I ever met those classy people again, they wouldn’t recognize me.
Though the house was a mess, I hadn’t been idle. On the contrary, I’d worked my fingers to the bone … just not on what those men saw.
God knew my intentions and my heart, and I found comfort in knowing that not only had I done exactly what my husband had asked of me but I had done my very best. But even with those truths in my heart, the situation was embarrassing.
Looks can indeed be deceiving. People may look a certain way on the outside when in their hearts they’re completely different. This incident reminded me not to judge a book by its cover or a woman by her kitchen.
I AM WHO I AM
Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular.… Are all apostles? are all prophets? are all teachers? are all workers of miracles?
—1 CORINTHIANS 12:27, 29
From Miriam
The busyness of today can shape our tomorrows. For better or worse, who and what I yield to today will affect who I become. We can’t accept every opportunity that comes our way, and we can’t always know which opportunity is the best to pursue or which doors we should walk through and which ones we shouldn’t.
Over the years I’ve discovered that I’m quite gullible, especially when it comes to bargains or a great sales pitch. Yet at the same time, I trust very few people, particularly when my children or grandchildren are involved.
Knowing I can trust God in any circumstance is a great help. He will guide me in the right direction, through the right doors, if I only will ask … and then listen for His answer.
From Cindy
When I was young, I couldn’t keep up with anything. If I touched it, I lost it. The worst thing was taking the time to do homework and then misplacing it before turning it in. Ugh! So when my teenagers inherited that wonderful trait, I couldn’t complain.
I got numerous calls from the boys when they were in high school, describing what they’d left at home and where they wanted me to take it so they could get it. Even if I couldn’t remember the last time I’d forgotten something at home, I always told them, “I won’t get angry with you as long as you don’t get angry with me when my turn comes.”
One year I planned a birthday party at a bowling alley for my youngest son. The day of the party was one of those superbusy days, and I was relieved when I finally pulled into the bowling alley parking lot—on time and with my son, his bowling ball, and birthday cake.
My husband worked near the area, so he planned to meet us there. Justin was in college, and Adam was in high school—they planned to meet us there as well.
Once inside, I realized I’d forgotten the paper plates, napkins, cups, etc. The bowling alley had made their position clear: they’d provide pizza and drinks for the party, but everything else was my responsibility.
As Tyler’s friends and their parents trickled in and started bowling, I called Justin with my request for paper plates and napkins. He told me he would pick them up on his way.
When I realized I’d forgotten candles for the cake, I called Adam. He agreed to pick them up.
Then I realized I’d forgotten the knife for cutting the cake. I called my husband. He was just about to leave work, and there was a knife in the office kitchen that he could bring.
Next I realized I’d forgotten the plastic eating utensils. And the ice cream. And a scoop. And matches for the candles. And.
I called Tommy and my older boys repeatedly, asking them to run to the store or our house for needed items.
Just as the pizza was brought to the tables, my husband and two older sons walked inside with big grins, obviously having met in the parking lot. They plunked their goods onto the table.
Tommy smiled. “I couldn’t wait to get here and make sure you hadn’t forgotten Tyler.”
It was amusing, no doubt. But the truth is, every one of us has traits that are not fun and are rather embarrassing. When I’m tired of my faults, I comfort myself with the knowledge that I’m not the only one in this family with idiosyncrasies. We’ve found that the trick to keeping frustration and resentment from building is to choose to respect one another. We often accomplish this by naming what the person is good at while in the midst of dealing with their fault. And it also helps to not compare our strongest areas with their weakest areas.
CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?
Hold fast the form of sound words, which thou hast heard of me, in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.
—2 TIMOTHY 1:13
From Miriam
Our long winter evenings are usually spent in the living room with most of us reading. Mark, age twelve, loves when I read to him.
One evening I read a book about how the West was settled after the California gold rush in 1849.2 I was amazed at all the effort and hard work it took to do ordinary tasks and the progress that has been made in the years since then. For instance, mail traveled by boat down the East Coast and across the tip of South America to get to the West Coast. It took a month to make the voyage.
In 1857 stagecoaches began transporting mail from St. Louis to San Francisco, some 2,795 miles by the routes of that day. It took the stagecoach up to twenty days to deliver a letter and required lots of horse power as well as man power.
In 1860 the pony express began offering the fastest mail delivery ever attempted. They could deliver in half the time of a stagecoach.
After telegraph lines were strung from one end of the country to the other in 1861, messages crossed the country in only minutes. What progress!
Now here we are in the twenty-first century. I don’t know much about computers, but I understand that with just a few taps of the fingers, an e-mail can travel anywhere in the world almost instantly. That’s amazing! Our means of communication have surely come a long way. Although the Amish discourage the use of cell phones, fax machines, e-mail, and computers, even our means of communication have stepped up a notch or two over the years. We send a lot of letters and cards through the postal service, but the use of phones in a phone shanty and voice-mail messages left on a machine occur more and more. My sister Sarah and her husband were the last ones in our Amish community to build a phone shanty and get a phone. Since then we’ve written across-the-field notes less often.
Even with all this progress, one type of communication is and always has been better than all the others. I call it “knee mail.” We can just think a prayer, and God receives it. No cell phone or computer is needed. No calls are ever dropped. You’ll never get one back marked “not deliverable.” God hears every single one of our prayers.
From Cindy
When my seventeen-year-old son asked permission to attend a concert at Atlanta’s Music Midtown Festival, his eyes radiated excitement. More than 120 bands would perform on six stages, all within walking distance. Two of his friends were going, and they had an extra ticket for him. The oldest one would drive to the MARTA (rail/train) station, and they’d ride from there to midtown Atlanta.
I wasn’t the least bit worried about Adam participating in any of the usual nonsense that occurs during these festivals, like drinking or drugs. However, I was a little apprehensive about the crowd. Nearly two hundred thousand people were likely to be there. Still, I couldn’t refuse to let my son do everything that concerned me.
Tommy and I talked with all three boys, made sure the driver had a cell phone, gave clear instr
uctions about staying together at all times, and granted our permission.
When Adam and his friends arrived at the concert, they found it even busier and more confusing than they’d expected. People pushed and shoved, determined to get close to the stages. The boys tried to stick together, but throngs of people kept pushing them farther apart until Adam lost sight of his friends.
Rain poured, making it hard to see and even harder to be heard as he called his friends’ names. A mass of humanity pressed in on every side, and he had no clue how to get back to the MARTA station.
He asked several strangers if he could borrow a phone. He knew if he could reach his dad, Tommy would know how to get him out of that mess. But no one would hand him a cell phone when they could easily get separated.
Around eleven o’clock I received a call from my son’s friends, telling me they’d lost track of Adam. My teenage boy was wandering around Atlanta, among throngs of people, in a downpour.
Tommy called our pastor at home and told him the situation. He prayed with us, then called others to pray. As the clock ticked on, my heart cried out to God for my son’s safety.
While Adam was praying for a phone, he kicked something. Light seemed to come from the object, though it was hard to tell in the dark with wall-to-wall people surrounding him and pouring rain. He reached down to grab whatever it was, but someone unknowingly kicked it farther away. He went to his knees, felt around in the mud, and finally found it. He pulled it out. It was a cell phone!
We got his call around midnight. Screaming to be heard above the rain and the crowd, Tommy told him what landmarks to follow. Within twenty minutes Adam was on the right path toward the MARTA station. Tommy told him what station to get off at and promised he’d meet him there.
Plain Wisdom Page 8
