I thought that they would hang back a little.

Tonight we had a guided prayer time. Jerm reads a scripture. We let it speak to us and then we pray – all of us pray about the individual revelations that we got and shared with the group. One person shares then we pray along that axis for a bit. Then another shares, etc. It is always a powerful time. It’s not something we do quietly, like many of our prayer exercises. When we do corporate guided prayer, we pray aloud, we walk and pray. We move in and out of earshot of one another’s prayer. It is a moving experience, hearing one another talk to God in their own manner in relation to a specific thought.

We have new Edgers and Edgers from last year. Last year’s kids are older, a year or so older than this new batch. I thought the young ones would hang back a little, maybe not even approach the microphone without serious encouragement. I was so wrong. They moved forward to take the mic and share. They beat the old Edgers again and again to take their turn.  And they prayed energetically until the end of our time as well.

We didn’t really know how they were going to do, if they would shrink from the many similar things we will do this year.  After tonight, I’m pretty sure they are going to be just fine.

a prayer

Sometimes there are things to say, that need to be spoken…but no one to speak them to…save God. They are weight to another; not a problem to solve, not a true need to be filled,  not a dream to be encouraged nor an insight to be confirmed. Sometimes, there is no one else who can understand my such things, for they are too unknown, to even my own self, to be spoken with effect.

Such a time, season is upon me. I am circling, at safe distance – holy unspeakables. Dragging only my toes near to their habitation, I am unable to look full on, unwilling to face them fully. There are things to be said, but I cannot speak them, yet, perhaps ever…

God, speak for me, as You must, and do at times, speak  for us. Speak for my heart, pumping this  yet un-worded  knowing about my frame.

Let now be the time of your nearness. Closer than I to (my) self, rise to gain me. Speak for my heart, and hear it too, well. I am outside… and await you to do, as always, all for me.

still in the wash…

At my house, “still in the wash” is usually the answer to whatever I or someone else desperately needs to wear that day. But it has come to mean something more to me, especially this week.

Saturday, we did my favorite thing at Edge. We sat “still, in the wash” of the Spirit, and the wash of our tears, and let God work in us. We let the waters overflow our spirits, spread out into our souls, and wash away despair, and doubt, and fear. We let them ferry hope and understanding and help.

It wasn’t a time about repentance or calling us to some standard, the kind of ministry that usually solicits tears from youth.  We just get still; we just get quiet. We play something tender, usually Sperti, and sit and let the Spirit wash over us, show us holy things that we need to know. And most of us, kids and old people alike, just weep (we can’t seem to help it) and let God move and  speak in us.

Why is Edge so the place…where this happens…most easily…for many of us, for me?  Maybe because we let God work, we give Him space and time, and quiet. And we know that He will come and wash over and through. We respect God working in each other…We don’t crowd, we don’t rush to interrupt, to lay on hands and to pray. We do pray for one another aloud, if, when, God shows it clearly; but we do not presume that God is not moving, revealing, speaking, affirming…We don’t get in the way of God.

And I always cry. As a leader, I do my best to put the kids there first, to intercede for them, to let God show me things to clear a way for them…I am wiling to do such; I do my best….But always, I, too, am washed over and I cannot help but cease even my intercession. I am overwhelmed in His showing me things deep in me, things untouched, and by His answer to them … the wash of His presence. My tears always accompany, as if to incarnate that wash.

I am not generally a crier…I am not easily touched in my emotions (especially when people are around) …that’s why the Edge “still” time is so wondrous to me.

A friend and I talked about why that might be so…why we don’t even think to fight tears there (we do pretty much everywhere else) …why they just flow. I know it’s that respect – the fact that, in there, we somehow really grasp that God is at work  in each of us – that each of us want Him to be so. And then there is that,”I want some space, but I want people, people who will/do stand guard for me, near.”

I feel so safe, so very  secure in that place.

I really like to meet God alone…I like to meet Him with them, better.