We gathered together, us people at work, in a room filled with a collective desire. Pray for healing we asked, this is what we do. This is what we know. Our voices lifted up to you. Please bless this woman who needs you. Please give her a spirit of confidence, a powerful sense of your presence. Unabashed tears I heard, porcelain cups that crack slender, a hurt for the beautiful. This woman who loves beyond measure we loved her back. Different voices humbly requesting a healing, words colored with praise and trust. Like purple rain you've never seen, but deep down in the knowing place, you trust in its absolute splendor. Watchman Nee wrote: "Our prayers lay the track down on which God's power can come. Like a mighty locomotive, His power is irresistible, but it cannot reach us without rails." If this be so then our tracks ran long, and steam rose high, tears splitting open the gates above. Walking back to my desk I caught a glimpse of maple tree dressed in blazing oranges and reds. Ok, yes you are glorious. I put to rest the questions, the sadness and doubts, laid them in the place that says I don't-know-why-but-you-do, and lingered in the moment, stillness by the window. There is a song that I like to press repeat when I am in struggle or sad or wondering why we have to suffer or feel pain. A refrain that says nothing yet everything.
When my world is shaking, heaven stands
When my heart is breaking
I never leave your hands
Like purple rain unseen, and angels that move unnoticed, prayer is the door which opens to invisible. All you have to do is believe.
Welcome
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