Wrestling and Limping

I'm struggling with my prayer life. (How's that for a nice smooth entrance into a blog post?) I'm struggling with my prayer life. I'm not struggling to pray. If anything, I am praying more. I'm not even really sure how to put into words what my struggle is.

Perhaps my struggle is that I don't think God hears my prayers. Because He sure isn't answering them. Is He? I have prayed for over a year for my house to sell. About 6 months ago, I just said, "Okay Lord, you have a reason for all of this, so I am just going to quit pestering you about it." And my house is still for sale. And then about 6 weeks ago, I started talking with God about this. About how we can't move forward with our lives. About how a good portion of our savings is wrapped up in this house. About how real estate was supposed to be the "perfect investment" and now it looks like we could lose thousands and thousands of dollars. About how we take money out of savings each month now because we have two mortgages. Maybe I was thinking if I re-presented my argument to God, He would go, "Oh, Carol, I see what you're saying now. You really DO need your house to sell . . . request granted." But you know what, in the last 6 weeks of this praying, my house stopped SHOWING. So I stopped praying. At least about that.

The last year has been a year of trial for sure. Broken bones. Broken bones for which I prayed for MONTHS to heal. Sick family members. Seems the more I pray, the worse things get. The more time I spend with God, the worse my life seems to get. Which makes me a little leary about spending more time with God. Of course I recognize this is flawed thinking. Which is why I have asked God to be the Shepherd of my thoughts. Because even my thoughts are wrestling with my thoughts.

And in the midst of my prayer struggling, I hear a man tell me that perhaps my praying style is flawed. Now I have this formula I need to use to pray. After all, Jesus modeled it, right? But then I see plenty of places in the Bible where Jesus didn't use the formula, so then I don't know which is right. Do I have to pray the formula, or is it cool if I just wrestle with stuff and sweat blood over it?

Then that makes me think of Jacob. Not Jones, Jacob of the Bible. And I see this story. A story of him wrestling with God. Of course he doesn't know it at the time because he's dreaming. But he's wrestling with the Almighty. He's not wrestling with the world. He's not wrestling with his job. He's not wrestling with his coworkers. He's not wrestling with his family or his wife or his children. He's not wrestling with the noisy neighbors above him. He's not wrestling with any of that. He's wrestling with GOD, and it isn't until he wakes up that he realizes it. And when he realizes it, does he wake up, smile, brush himself off and go about his merry way. NO!!!!! He gets up and walks away limping. And he was never the same again. In a good way. God would I love to be at that place . . . the never-the-same-again-in-a-good-way place.

This has turned into an epic post. But I think when you struggle, you have to process the struggle. And the more you ask questions, the more questions you have to ask about the questions you're asking. I don't know if I can pray a formula. But Jesus did. So I should. Right? So why do I resist it so? Is it because I think it controls me? And if that is my question, then why don't I want to be controlled? Which raises other questions about who I am, who I think I am, who hurt me enough to make me think I didn't need anyone telling me what to do, and so the questions continue.

All that to say, I am wrestling. And I am limping. And I know that I will get to the place where all of this makes sense. I think I know that . . . I think I do. But now that I am limping, it might take me a little longer to get there.