Honesty in Prayer

I’ve written about my attempts to be honest in dealing with cancer. And for the most part, I think I have been honest. But last week I reached a new degree of honesty in my prayer life. As I have shared before, I have acknowledged my anger with my condition. I’ve admitted to fear as I face the future. But a few days ago I reached another level of frustration.

I was by myself. I was not having a good day. I was wondering if I had begun the downhill slide to death. In the midst of these feelings, I began to weep uncontrollably, crying out to God, “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Why me? Why won’t you take this evil thing away from me?” It was a cathartic experience that immediately brought cleansing to my soul.

In reflecting on the experience, I was reminded of the Psalmist’s stance as he faced uncertainty and anger and distress. In his honesty, he cried out to God, “Why have you forsaken me? Why do you allow the wicked to prosper and the righteous to suffer? When will all this end? What have I done to deserve this?” The psalmist was never nearer to the heart of God than when he honestly expressed his anger and frustration over what was happening.

But the Psalmist didn’t stop with frustration or doubt. He always moved to certainty: “Nevertheless, I will trust you….” On the cross, Jesus used the psalmist’s words, “Why have you forsaken me?”, to express His pain and frustration. But at the end of the day, He affirmed His faith in God : “Into your hands I commend my spirit.”

I am developing a new honesty in my prayer life. I’m trying to be real with God. After all, He already knows my feelings — there’s no hiding them from Him. He much prefers my coming to Him forthrightly, in all candor, honestly expressing my innermost feelings to Him. I’m learning, with Jesus, to sweat great drops of blood as I cry out for deliverance, but then to place my life in His hands: “Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done.”

It’s only when I’ve been honest enough to admit my fear and frustration, my disappointment and anger, that I am then able to place my life in His hands, knowing that He will do what’s best. There can be no resurrection without the cross, no Easter without Good Friday, no wholeness without first being crippled. I’m reminded of Jacob wrestling with the angel all night long, until his joint was thrown out of place and he limped away from his encounter with God. The price of his wholeness was being crippled from his wrestling with God. But without the honest wrestling match, there would have been no authentic encounter with God!

And that’s where I find myself during these difficult days: searching for wholeness through being crippled by the pain and misery of cancer; discovering eternal life through the bitterness of death; dying in order to live. Is it easy? Heavens no! The tears of last week weren’t the first, nor will they be the last. But I trust that through my struggle with death, I will discover the joy of life eternal through Jesus Christ. I want to discover the truth that Paul discovered, “For me to live is Christ; to die is gain.”

Take my brokenness, Lord, and make me whole. Amen.