"Praying Hands"
by Richard Seah
Take your everyday, ordinary life...
and place it before God as an offering.
- Romans 12:1 (The Message)
For what will it profit a man
if he gains the whole world,
and loses his own soul?
- Mark 8:36
But because My servant Caleb has a different spirit
and follows Me wholeheartedly,
I will bring him into the land he went to,
and his descendants will inherit it.
- Numbers 14:24
On February 7, one week ago, this blog celebrated its fifth blog anniversary. The story of how this blog was born has been told in my earlier posts. It never ceases to amaze me how in just 400 entries, God has allowed me to put into words the story of my faith journey. There is something about writing that helps bring clarity and focus to the issues confronting us.
Henri Nouwen has put it so beautifully:
One of the most satisfying aspects of writing is that it can open in us deep wells of hidden treasures that are beautiful for us as well as for others to see.
More than anything else, this blog has been for me, in the words of a dear blog friend, Denise (A Sacred Longing), "a place where the cry of my heart is given a voice."
In its initial stages, there was no clear cut agenda for this blog. My husband and I were living in Chiang Mai, Thailand when I began writing my earliest posts in 2008. How was I to know that several months later, my dear husband would go home to heaven, and that this blog would be the venue for me to process the gut-wrenching pain of losing a loved one? By putting my grief into words, this blog indeed became "a place where the cry of my heart was given a voice."
And yet my husband's death was never the main point. The main point has always been how God the heavenly Father is the Restorer, the Redeemer, the Sustainer, the Comforter, the Defender. He is the main topic of this blog.
The pain of death was just one of the many crossroads along the way. There was the more important business of picking up the pieces, and moving on.
Every moment life hands me several choices. As I have said many times before, choices are like seeds that we plant in the seedbed of opportunity. Will I remain in the wreckage, focusing on the loss, or will I get up, and walk down the road to recovery and restoration?
The answer was obvious. I didn't want to keep talking about the grief and the pain, but about how my heavenly Father sustained me, giving me hope and strength when the going was difficult.
I tell the story of my life as it unfolds, but the truth remains - God is the One writing my story.
On February 2, my daughter's maid Aiza slipped and fell from the ladder as she was cleaning the kitchen window. It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon, and I was in the porch, doing some mending. She came to me in tears and said, "I think I broke my wrist bone." It was a first time experience for both of us. Immediately I began thinking of what to do next... what hospital, what doctor, how much. But I also realized she needed comfort that very moment, and assurance that she was going to be taken care of. I held her hand, looked at her eyes, and assured her that I would take care of her. I also prayed a healing prayer for her, and thanked God for His loving protection over her.
In my heart I was asking God to guide me every step of the way - where to go, what to do. We took a taxi to go to the nearest hospital in the area. When the cab driver saw Aiza's arm, he asked what was wrong with it.
"I think the wrist bone might be broken after a fall."
Then he said, "Madam, maybe the medical center you are planning to go is not the place to get treatment for broken bones. When I broke my leg a few years ago, I got excellent treatment at the Orthopedic Hospital."
I never even knew there was such a place. So, I asked him to bring us there. It was right in the middle of Metro Manila, but it being a Saturday, traffic was light. We reached the place in less than thirty minutes.
How thankful I was that of all the cabs we could have taken, that particular taxi was sent by God just at the precise moment. After the initial interview with one of the many orthopedic doctors on duty at the emergency room, several x-rays taken, a gram stain analysis of a small wound, her left arm was put on a traction, then after about twenty minutes that seemed like forever, in a plaster cast... a repeat x-ray to make sure everything was right... an appointment card given for scheduled follow up. Four hours after we got there, we were on our way back home... my heart brimming over with thanksgiving that God had indeed heard my prayer.
But her fall required a readjustment for us... one that could take as long as six weeks to three months. We've been so used to having Aiza's efficient domestic help. With her left arm in a cast, her movement is very limited.
So during the last week of my stay in Manila, roles in our home were somewhat reversed. I became the servant to Aiza, where she used to be our servant girl. At the start, not being used to it, she refused to be served. But I had to keep assuring her that she is part of our household, and it was my responsibility to make sure that she got the proper medical attention for her arm. It was a lesson in humility for both of us.
There were many realizations during the days that followed. I discovered a well of joy bubbling up inside my heart. This was not an accident, it was a divine opportunity sent by the Lord. All my life as a wife and a mother, I had lived a life of service to my family. We live in a culture that relies heavily on hired domestic help, but my parents had trained my sister and me to be DIY, hands on persons, experts at home maintenance and running a household efficiently.
But in my earlier years of doing it, I was a perfectionist. Without my knowing it, in the name of efficiency and cleanliness, I was not much fun to live with. There were too many rules and demands.
One does not become a true servant overnight. It took years of shaping, and molding, and chiseling off the rough edges of my person. To be kind, compassionate, patient, and understanding when others don't do it my way. To have love as my motive... only love and nothing else.
Two songs kept repeating in my mind the whole week. One was "Brother Let Me Be Your Servant" written by Richard Gillard:
Brother let me be your servant
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant, too
We are pilgrims on a journey
We are brothers on the road
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load
I will hold the Christlight for you
In the night time of your fear
I will hold my hand out to you
Speak the peace you long to hear...
The other song was "Make Me A Servant" by Maranatha Singers:
Make me a servant
Humble and meek
Lord let me lift up
Those who are weak
And may the prayer of my life always be
"Make me a servant...today."
We used to sing these songs in church many years ago, so I knew them by heart. But it's one thing to sing the words from my mind, and another thing to let its spiritual melody flow from my heart.
If this had happened years ago, I know I would have gone through it with a different attitude. But brokenness and disappointment and unmet expectation have proven to be good teachers. With gladness and joy I did the best I could under the circumstances... singing in my heart... praying... believing that this servant girl's broken bone is healing faster than it normally would. I spoke life to her everyday, building faith in her heart to believe in the miraculous intervention and provision of Almighty God, Jehovah Rophe and Jehovah Jireh.
I wish I could have stayed longer in Manila, but other appointments were waiting for me back home. With a heavy heart I left for the airport Monday noon for my return flight back to my home city of Bacolod. I was just so thankful that the timing of the events was more than perfect. On the day of Aiza's fall, my sister had also just arrived. So, even with me being gone, there is another willing person in our home who will help look after the needs of our domestic helper, and also do the other chores needing to be attended to, while waiting for the bone to set and be fully restored.
It's been nearly a month since Obedient One and I reached Manila after spending the holidays together with our whole family.
How quickly the days have flown by! Yet each of these days left a mark on my heart. The events of the recent weeks have served to remind me of an important lesson God taught me years ago: walking in the opposite spirit.
It was Youth With a Mission founding father, Loren Cunningham, who wrote of this beautiful lesson in his excellent book entitled, Winning God's Way.
Applying this lesson in my life has been a tremendous boost to my spiritual growth. Whenever I was facing a difficult situation, God would remind me to simply discern the kind of spirit that I was battling, and then begin to move in the opposite direction:
walking in faith, instead of fear
in peace, not in anxiety
in kindness, instead of criticism
choosing forgiveness over anger
walking in integrity, not in dishonesty
in victory, instead of defeat
choosing compassion over judgment
generosity, not greed
extending grace and appreciation instead of finding fault
walking in righteousness to combat corruption.
With joy I heard the Master speak a word of praise to my heart. You have done well, My child. You have begun to learn the lesson of being a true servant in my kingdom. You have reflected My heart, You have been a messenger of hope.
At the Passover Seder, the Jews sing a popular song of Da'yenu.
Da'yenu is a Hebrew phrase that means, "It would have been enough to praise God."
Da'yenu is a simple, yet beautiful poem of fifteen stanzas describing acts of God's kindness - each stanza stating that it would have been 'enough' had God only helped us in one way. It tells the story of how the Israelites were saved from their slavery in Egypt to the time they reached Canaan, a total of fifteen acts of divine kindness, each act alone worthy of praise.
"Even more so must we praise God, for He had performed all of them!" (The Tanach Study Center)
How easy it is to begin each day with a sense of lack... not having enough... circumstances not being to our satisfaction... a demanding spirit that all go in accordance with our wishes and desires... that there be no delays... or interruptions.
Father Richard Rohr suggests we pray the Da'yenu at the start of each day. If we begin our day with any notion of scarcity, not enoughness, victimhood, or "I desrve", I promise you the day will not be good -- for you or for those around you. Nor will God be glorified. (Unpacking Paradoxes, January 30, 2012)
On this my fifth blog anniversary post, I thank God for the many valuable lessons He has taught me these past five years. The journey is not over, but my Father in heaven can be counted on to keep His promise to never leave or forsake.
Continue to teach me how to be a servant, doing all things well to reflect Your heart, to bring glory and honor to your name, dear Father.
Below is a beautiful song adapted from the prayer of St. Francis. I have sung it often these past days, and my prayer is that its message will ring true in my own life.
Henri Nouwen has put it so beautifully:
One of the most satisfying aspects of writing is that it can open in us deep wells of hidden treasures that are beautiful for us as well as for others to see.
More than anything else, this blog has been for me, in the words of a dear blog friend, Denise (A Sacred Longing), "a place where the cry of my heart is given a voice."
In its initial stages, there was no clear cut agenda for this blog. My husband and I were living in Chiang Mai, Thailand when I began writing my earliest posts in 2008. How was I to know that several months later, my dear husband would go home to heaven, and that this blog would be the venue for me to process the gut-wrenching pain of losing a loved one? By putting my grief into words, this blog indeed became "a place where the cry of my heart was given a voice."
And yet my husband's death was never the main point. The main point has always been how God the heavenly Father is the Restorer, the Redeemer, the Sustainer, the Comforter, the Defender. He is the main topic of this blog.
The pain of death was just one of the many crossroads along the way. There was the more important business of picking up the pieces, and moving on.
Every moment life hands me several choices. As I have said many times before, choices are like seeds that we plant in the seedbed of opportunity. Will I remain in the wreckage, focusing on the loss, or will I get up, and walk down the road to recovery and restoration?
The answer was obvious. I didn't want to keep talking about the grief and the pain, but about how my heavenly Father sustained me, giving me hope and strength when the going was difficult.
I tell the story of my life as it unfolds, but the truth remains - God is the One writing my story.
On February 2, my daughter's maid Aiza slipped and fell from the ladder as she was cleaning the kitchen window. It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon, and I was in the porch, doing some mending. She came to me in tears and said, "I think I broke my wrist bone." It was a first time experience for both of us. Immediately I began thinking of what to do next... what hospital, what doctor, how much. But I also realized she needed comfort that very moment, and assurance that she was going to be taken care of. I held her hand, looked at her eyes, and assured her that I would take care of her. I also prayed a healing prayer for her, and thanked God for His loving protection over her.
In my heart I was asking God to guide me every step of the way - where to go, what to do. We took a taxi to go to the nearest hospital in the area. When the cab driver saw Aiza's arm, he asked what was wrong with it.
"I think the wrist bone might be broken after a fall."
Then he said, "Madam, maybe the medical center you are planning to go is not the place to get treatment for broken bones. When I broke my leg a few years ago, I got excellent treatment at the Orthopedic Hospital."
I never even knew there was such a place. So, I asked him to bring us there. It was right in the middle of Metro Manila, but it being a Saturday, traffic was light. We reached the place in less than thirty minutes.
How thankful I was that of all the cabs we could have taken, that particular taxi was sent by God just at the precise moment. After the initial interview with one of the many orthopedic doctors on duty at the emergency room, several x-rays taken, a gram stain analysis of a small wound, her left arm was put on a traction, then after about twenty minutes that seemed like forever, in a plaster cast... a repeat x-ray to make sure everything was right... an appointment card given for scheduled follow up. Four hours after we got there, we were on our way back home... my heart brimming over with thanksgiving that God had indeed heard my prayer.
But her fall required a readjustment for us... one that could take as long as six weeks to three months. We've been so used to having Aiza's efficient domestic help. With her left arm in a cast, her movement is very limited.
So during the last week of my stay in Manila, roles in our home were somewhat reversed. I became the servant to Aiza, where she used to be our servant girl. At the start, not being used to it, she refused to be served. But I had to keep assuring her that she is part of our household, and it was my responsibility to make sure that she got the proper medical attention for her arm. It was a lesson in humility for both of us.
There were many realizations during the days that followed. I discovered a well of joy bubbling up inside my heart. This was not an accident, it was a divine opportunity sent by the Lord. All my life as a wife and a mother, I had lived a life of service to my family. We live in a culture that relies heavily on hired domestic help, but my parents had trained my sister and me to be DIY, hands on persons, experts at home maintenance and running a household efficiently.
But in my earlier years of doing it, I was a perfectionist. Without my knowing it, in the name of efficiency and cleanliness, I was not much fun to live with. There were too many rules and demands.
One does not become a true servant overnight. It took years of shaping, and molding, and chiseling off the rough edges of my person. To be kind, compassionate, patient, and understanding when others don't do it my way. To have love as my motive... only love and nothing else.
Two songs kept repeating in my mind the whole week. One was "Brother Let Me Be Your Servant" written by Richard Gillard:
Brother let me be your servant
Let me be as Christ to you
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant, too
We are pilgrims on a journey
We are brothers on the road
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load
I will hold the Christlight for you
In the night time of your fear
I will hold my hand out to you
Speak the peace you long to hear...
The other song was "Make Me A Servant" by Maranatha Singers:
Make me a servant
Humble and meek
Lord let me lift up
Those who are weak
And may the prayer of my life always be
"Make me a servant...today."
We used to sing these songs in church many years ago, so I knew them by heart. But it's one thing to sing the words from my mind, and another thing to let its spiritual melody flow from my heart.
If this had happened years ago, I know I would have gone through it with a different attitude. But brokenness and disappointment and unmet expectation have proven to be good teachers. With gladness and joy I did the best I could under the circumstances... singing in my heart... praying... believing that this servant girl's broken bone is healing faster than it normally would. I spoke life to her everyday, building faith in her heart to believe in the miraculous intervention and provision of Almighty God, Jehovah Rophe and Jehovah Jireh.
I wish I could have stayed longer in Manila, but other appointments were waiting for me back home. With a heavy heart I left for the airport Monday noon for my return flight back to my home city of Bacolod. I was just so thankful that the timing of the events was more than perfect. On the day of Aiza's fall, my sister had also just arrived. So, even with me being gone, there is another willing person in our home who will help look after the needs of our domestic helper, and also do the other chores needing to be attended to, while waiting for the bone to set and be fully restored.
It's been nearly a month since Obedient One and I reached Manila after spending the holidays together with our whole family.
How quickly the days have flown by! Yet each of these days left a mark on my heart. The events of the recent weeks have served to remind me of an important lesson God taught me years ago: walking in the opposite spirit.
It was Youth With a Mission founding father, Loren Cunningham, who wrote of this beautiful lesson in his excellent book entitled, Winning God's Way.
...There are only two kingdoms and they are at war. We need to win for the kingdom of light by moving... in the opposite way that Satan is working. Where he is spreading hate we must show love. Where greed prevails we must outdo everyone in our giving. Where intolerance is winning we need to show loyalty and forgiveness. God's Spirit enters into this world through His people, moving in the opposite spirit to wrest the power from the god of this world and give it to Jesus who is King of kings and Lord of lords.
Applying this lesson in my life has been a tremendous boost to my spiritual growth. Whenever I was facing a difficult situation, God would remind me to simply discern the kind of spirit that I was battling, and then begin to move in the opposite direction:
walking in faith, instead of fear
in peace, not in anxiety
in kindness, instead of criticism
choosing forgiveness over anger
walking in integrity, not in dishonesty
in victory, instead of defeat
choosing compassion over judgment
generosity, not greed
extending grace and appreciation instead of finding fault
With joy I heard the Master speak a word of praise to my heart. You have done well, My child. You have begun to learn the lesson of being a true servant in my kingdom. You have reflected My heart, You have been a messenger of hope.
At the Passover Seder, the Jews sing a popular song of Da'yenu.
Da'yenu is a Hebrew phrase that means, "It would have been enough to praise God."
Da'yenu is a simple, yet beautiful poem of fifteen stanzas describing acts of God's kindness - each stanza stating that it would have been 'enough' had God only helped us in one way. It tells the story of how the Israelites were saved from their slavery in Egypt to the time they reached Canaan, a total of fifteen acts of divine kindness, each act alone worthy of praise.
"Even more so must we praise God, for He had performed all of them!" (The Tanach Study Center)
How easy it is to begin each day with a sense of lack... not having enough... circumstances not being to our satisfaction... a demanding spirit that all go in accordance with our wishes and desires... that there be no delays... or interruptions.
Father Richard Rohr suggests we pray the Da'yenu at the start of each day. If we begin our day with any notion of scarcity, not enoughness, victimhood, or "I desrve", I promise you the day will not be good -- for you or for those around you. Nor will God be glorified. (Unpacking Paradoxes, January 30, 2012)
On this my fifth blog anniversary post, I thank God for the many valuable lessons He has taught me these past five years. The journey is not over, but my Father in heaven can be counted on to keep His promise to never leave or forsake.
Continue to teach me how to be a servant, doing all things well to reflect Your heart, to bring glory and honor to your name, dear Father.
Below is a beautiful song adapted from the prayer of St. Francis. I have sung it often these past days, and my prayer is that its message will ring true in my own life.
Instrument of Peace
(adapted from the prayer of St. Francis by Marc Jordan, Stephan Moccio, and Amy Sky)
Where there is hatred, let me bring love
Where there is doubt, let me bring faith
Where there is falsehood, let me bring truth
Where there is pain, I'll comfort you
Where there is silence, let me sing praise
Where there's despair, let me bring hope
Where there is blindness, let me bring sight
Where there is darkness, let me bring light
And with these words I speak
Grant that I may not seek
to be heard, but to hear
to be consoled, but to console
to be seen, but to see
to be loved, but to love
For when we give love, we will receive
When we forgive love, we'll find reprieve
It is in dying we'll be released
Make me an instrument
Of peace
