Prayer in a Safe Place
I felt the warmth of their hands on my shoulders and arms. Their voices flooded my brain with sweet, loving words entreating God to bring wisdom, healing and restoration. I had been so angry, so hurt, and felt so betrayed. God's peace poured into my wounded places, a healing salve. These women chose to give up their own needs to come to the throne of heaven with mine. Humbling.
Prayer is an intimacy that has to be shared in a safe place. Almost every week, once a week, for years now I have been meeting with a group of women to study God's Word, to reflect on how He is working in our lives, to share one another's joys and burdens, drink a little wine, and to pray. We've been known to call it "wine-soaked prayers." Whatever you call it, it's a sacred space. (For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them. Matthew 18:20)
I shared a little bit about them already. Like the area we live, we are an ever changing group. The people I meet with now, are not the same ones I met with two years ago, and the group thrives and continues to strengthen the participants to face the battles of life for another week. I am not the same person I was when I started with this group at least 5 years ago, and it's impossible for me to do so. They won't let me fail myself. They call me to the best of myself.
God has blessed me with groups of prayerful women throughout my adult life. When I was in my 30s, I started my teaching career in a small, Christian school. The women I worked with gathered each morning to pray together for each other, our students, and our families. Within this circle of prayer I learned to have conversations with God as though he was right next to me. We laughed, cried, whispered and silently prayed through our lives. They prayed me through a financial crises, the adoption of my children, and struggles with family. It was an amazing time in my life as I matured as a woman of faith, as a mother to four boys, and as a teacher.
In my 40s, it was the GNO girls. GNO stood for Girls Night Out. One summer, two of my friends and colleagues wanted to start a Bible study and prayer time with a group of girls from the high school where we taught. The girls never showed up, and we did. So we talked about the Bible passages and prayed for each other. Two other teachers from the school, who were also friends, joined us. We met faithfully week after week, sometimes to just get all the words and feelings out, sometimes to share a meal, and always to pray.
There is something about being "known" in the process of praying for each other. When the group sits you down for a meal and then says, "you've been too quiet lately. What's going on?" You're blown away that they noticed and you feel safe in the sacredness of the moment and the group to fess up about your son who is a MESS! Or the sadness of a situation is radiating off of you and you have no words, so your sisters in Christ and prayer warriors speak the words for you. And when the anger and woundedness of a situation becomes too much, they get it when your voice raises, tears fall and your hands ball in fists. What freedom! What grace! What a gift! I pray that more women can experience the life-giving hope and grace of a group of women who pray for them and pray with them.
I didn't know I needed a prayer group, God gave them to me. I did, however, allow myself to be open to the idea. And then there's the day when you decide to go all in. Where you won't miss one no matter what. When someone says, "hey are you free to (fill in the blank)? And you don't hesitate to say no. So now you text each other to find out how a doctor appointment went, or a job interview, or just to share a funny anecdote. You celebrate new houses, new babies, marriages, new jobs, and a good day. That's when these women have become sisters.
My current group is changing again and I find myself wondering will it withstand the change. Then God reminds me I am not in charge. He sent me one word to remember--pray.
Prayer is an intimacy that has to be shared in a safe place. Almost every week, once a week, for years now I have been meeting with a group of women to study God's Word, to reflect on how He is working in our lives, to share one another's joys and burdens, drink a little wine, and to pray. We've been known to call it "wine-soaked prayers." Whatever you call it, it's a sacred space. (For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them. Matthew 18:20)
I shared a little bit about them already. Like the area we live, we are an ever changing group. The people I meet with now, are not the same ones I met with two years ago, and the group thrives and continues to strengthen the participants to face the battles of life for another week. I am not the same person I was when I started with this group at least 5 years ago, and it's impossible for me to do so. They won't let me fail myself. They call me to the best of myself.
God has blessed me with groups of prayerful women throughout my adult life. When I was in my 30s, I started my teaching career in a small, Christian school. The women I worked with gathered each morning to pray together for each other, our students, and our families. Within this circle of prayer I learned to have conversations with God as though he was right next to me. We laughed, cried, whispered and silently prayed through our lives. They prayed me through a financial crises, the adoption of my children, and struggles with family. It was an amazing time in my life as I matured as a woman of faith, as a mother to four boys, and as a teacher.
In my 40s, it was the GNO girls. GNO stood for Girls Night Out. One summer, two of my friends and colleagues wanted to start a Bible study and prayer time with a group of girls from the high school where we taught. The girls never showed up, and we did. So we talked about the Bible passages and prayed for each other. Two other teachers from the school, who were also friends, joined us. We met faithfully week after week, sometimes to just get all the words and feelings out, sometimes to share a meal, and always to pray.
There is something about being "known" in the process of praying for each other. When the group sits you down for a meal and then says, "you've been too quiet lately. What's going on?" You're blown away that they noticed and you feel safe in the sacredness of the moment and the group to fess up about your son who is a MESS! Or the sadness of a situation is radiating off of you and you have no words, so your sisters in Christ and prayer warriors speak the words for you. And when the anger and woundedness of a situation becomes too much, they get it when your voice raises, tears fall and your hands ball in fists. What freedom! What grace! What a gift! I pray that more women can experience the life-giving hope and grace of a group of women who pray for them and pray with them.
I didn't know I needed a prayer group, God gave them to me. I did, however, allow myself to be open to the idea. And then there's the day when you decide to go all in. Where you won't miss one no matter what. When someone says, "hey are you free to (fill in the blank)? And you don't hesitate to say no. So now you text each other to find out how a doctor appointment went, or a job interview, or just to share a funny anecdote. You celebrate new houses, new babies, marriages, new jobs, and a good day. That's when these women have become sisters.
My current group is changing again and I find myself wondering will it withstand the change. Then God reminds me I am not in charge. He sent me one word to remember--pray.
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