I knew it all.I grew up in the church, I knew how to pray, I knew how to read my Bible. Not only that, I knew ways to teach it. I’d learned enough tips and tricks to fill small groups for a lifetime. Did I use those tips and tricks? No, not at all. Not until that Tuesday morning.
“Prayer is a conversation with God through His Word.”
It was our half-hour Prayer Coaching slot. We were learning principles of prayer and creative ways to read the Bible. Since at least six hours of our week were spent in the Prayer Room, I assumed we needed these classes so we didn’t get bored.
Shepherd… Leader… Provider… we shouted them out like the good church kids most of us were.Then we got to the line, He restores my soul, and Nicola wrote out one word:
Restorer.What my class didn't know was that under my usually-optimistic personality, I was gasping for breath. They don’t often tell you in Sunday School that heartbreak happens, and it feels a lot like getting the wind knocked out of you. But unlike getting winded, which only last several minutes—disappointment in a relationship (or lack of one) can last several months. Or in my case, a year.
"I have rebuilt the ruined places and replanted that which was desolate."
Yeah, right, I thought.
Then it all just tumbled out of me. As I scribbled my prayer, I could see it as clear as watching a home renovation show on TV. Me, living in termite-infested rooms with rotting walls. Jesus waltzing in, a goofy grin on his face and a hammer in His hand. He wanted to give my broken heart a full renovation.
For the first time, I started to hope that restoration was possible.
And it was hope that didn’t disappoint.