Two wrong turns make a right turn...unless you are me.

  As I have shared before, talking with the Lord has not been the highest priority in my life for some time. In high school several things led me to the throne room on an almost daily basis; crying out and calling on the name of Jesus for help was a reality of my life. After leaving for college, my time with the Lord became increasingly sparse due to several factors, one of them being my pride. I had passed through a lot of grief and felt the veil of darkness that comes from the brokenness of this world, and I survived. In my eyes, I was stronger, wiser, and super duper mature. I was that girl that would easily say, "I'm praying for you!" But rarely did I act on that. As I have been reading through "A Praying Life" by Paul Miller, I can feel the picture I see of myself beginning to shift. I feel helpless and incapable in more ways than I have felt before, and yet the Father coaxes me to talk to Him about it. Asking for help doesn't come naturally to me! In fact my tendency and desire is to have just one day in my life where I am worthy of His grace. So every day is a day I work to achieve that.
  Last Friday when I was stuck in the jam for 4 hours because I took a wrong turn (like 5 or 6 times) and couldn't find my way back home, I felt helpless and alone. I was exhausted from being with myself for so long, from the stress of being lost, and from the frustration with myself for not being a more capable Nairobi driver. A lot of the time I had the radio off, and then the thought would pop into my mind to pray. So I would ask the Lord to show me where I was supposed to turn, and to just get me home soon because an hour in I didn't think I could handle another minute in the car. After a minute or two I wouldn't know what else to say and I would turn the music back up. I would listen for another 30 or 45 minutes, then the thought would come back to me to talk to my Father. I would turn down the music, talk for a bit, then run out of things to say and turn the music back on. This cycle was on repeat for 4 hours. Sometimes I would start praying out of guilt. But some sort of thought would come to me reminding me of how much the Father wants to talk to me. I though of a child telling an unending, overly detailed story to his parent. Does the parent nod distractedly then brush of the kid? No (not usually)! And how much greater the Heavenly Father is and how much more engaged He is with our hearts. He is waiting to listen to me. How can someone so beyond any descriptive thought or word be so gracious, so loving?

[I'm not sure that I can call it an answer to prayer, but I ended up at the same round about time after time after time for almost 2 hours...it would seem that in the end the Father was showing me the way to go in all my wrong turns.]

  Psalm 94:8-11

Understand, O dullest of the people! Fools when will you be wise?

He who planted the ear, does he not hear?

He who formed the eye, does he not see?

He who teaches man knowledge-the LORD- knows the thoughts of man, that they are but a breath.

Psalm 95:5

The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.