I've been thinking a lot about a deeply passionate prayer that I shouted, cried, and wrote out several years ago after weeks of trying to discern my deepest desire. I asked that my family might know God in his fullness. I have known from experience and intuition that days and seasons would come when I would regret praying that prayer. But still I did it. All that has happened in my family's life, and my heart and mind since that prayer has got me remembering these two other prayers, originally crafted by others, which I borrowed over the years, saying them so often that they became my own. Here they are:
This first was written by Amy Carmichael, an Irish Christian missionary who lived 53 years in South India, founding an orphanage that cared for children rescued from a religiously sanctioned sex trade. I quote here from "A Chance to Die: The Life and Legacy of Amy Carmichael" by Elizabeth Elliot, c. 1987 Fleming H. Revell
I've prayed both of these prayers, trembling in my boots, and have internally shouted, "I take it back!" plenty of times. I'm aware of some prayers that others have crafted, that I have refused to utter, fearing either submission to a theology that might throw open the door to unhampered evil, or circumstances of suffering that I hope to avoid. Like I said, I'm a wimp.