Crying Out to God

I used to think that I had nothing significant to say because I wasn't some well-known author or speaker. I still wrestle with whether or not things I speak or write are worth sharing with anyone else. It occurred to me, however, that God speaks to all of His children, including me, and rarely does He intend for the things He says to be kept secret. When I read in Scripture about imperfect men and women whom God chose to use in spite of their imperfection, it makes me think that perhaps even my struggles might be of interest to or provide encouragement for others. My primary responsibility is to run everything I share through the filter of God's Word to ensure that it is not in conflict with His Truth. That being said, I'd like to share via a personal experience what I've recently learned about crying out to God.

Several very traumatic things happened to me over a very brief period of time a few years ago that caused me to reevaluate my priorities. One of those events happened on Easter Sunday morning 2007 when my dear, sweet mother went home to be with the Lord. My first thought (after the shock of learning of her death) was what a wonderfully appropriate day that was for her to go home. She was able on that day to celebrate Christ's resurrection in His very Presence. What a marvelous home-going that must have been!

By the time I arrived at Mom's bedside, she was already with the Lord, but she had a smile on her sweet face, her hand over her heart, and her eyes were wide open as if she was looking into heaven. Seeing her like that helped to ease my pain of losing her. I knew that at that moment she was more joyful than she had ever been and quite frankly, I was a little jealous. She had been freed from a body that was wearing out and a world that was moving closer and closer to destruction, while I was left here to cope without her, my trusted confidant and source of godly wisdom.

My first reevaluation came at Mom's memorial service. I realized very clearly how such services are primarily for those who remain. Though it was a memorial to her and the wonderful, godly life she had lived and the lives she had touched, it was mainly for the benefit of my sisters and me and those others who had loved her and would miss her terribly. I remember very clearly a line from one of the songs sung at this service. "Fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus and live." My mother had certainly flown to Jesus and is now living more abundantly than ever. That comforted my hurting heart.

Second, as I looked around the sanctuary filled with Mom's family and friends, I thought to myself how very much I wanted to leave a legacy such as hers. She gave birth to three children who produced nine grandchildren and thirteen great grandchildren (with more to come, I'm sure). She touched hundreds of lives as a school teacher, Sunday School teacher, VBS leader, author, neighbor, friend and mentor. Some of her former 5th grade students maintained contact with her well into their adulthood. Even her fellow residents at the extended care facility where she spent her last few months were touched by her caring attitude and her constant joy even in the midst of her own trials. One of the caregivers stopped by the room to tell us what a blessing she had been to the staff. He cried as he hugged me and offered his consolations. I began to pray that day that in whatever time I have left I can impact half as many people as Mom did in her 91 years on this earth .

Shortly before Mom's death, I had lost a very good job to the waning economy and had to take a much lower paying job in a field I'd never worked in. My boss was younger than my children and much less experienced, but I felt the Lord had placed me there for a reason. I committed to do my best, but hoped that I would find a better job quickly. Six months after I started, I was offered a more suitable position with the same company but in a different location. The pay was the same, but the job was a bit more in line with my abilities.

I continued to look for a better job, but as the weeks passed, I began to realize that it was quite possible that I was going to be in this position for much longer than I had hoped. This realization at first caused me great distress which manifested itself in anxiety and depression. The stress from virtually 'starting over' at my age was more than enough by itself, but add to that the hours I spent on the road, the financial strain we were experiencing from a huge cut in pay and the lack of prospects for a better job, and the load was getting to be more than I could handle on my own. During this time, in sheer desperation, I began to beseech the Lord each morning trying to find the strength and the will to continue. I devoured the Word and began to cry out to God for help and for deliverance. Though I was not immediately delivered, I began to feel God's Presence and was able to accept my situation and determine to make the best of it.

Because of my work schedule, I had several hours each morning to myself before having to leave for work. I devoted every minute of that time to reading the Word and praying. Most mornings I had no sense of direction, but on most, I desperately cried out to the Lord for answers. I read Psalm after Psalm and clung to verses like "I cried out to the LORD in my suffering, and he heard me. He set me free from all my fears." (Psalm 34:4 NLT) Being alone in the house with no one to hear me, I could literally cry aloud to the Lord for help and deliverance.

During the Thanksgiving holiday last year, I was feeling particularly frustrated about my situation and went to spend a morning with my beloved Sunday School teacher. As I shared with him my situation, he was impressed to ask me if I had considered actually "crying out" to the Lord for answers. I explained that I had and he shared how he felt that there was something different about this kind of prayer. He suggested that we cry out together and we spent the rest of our time together walking about his family room crying out to the Lord for wisdom, comfort and deliverance. I left feeling somewhat better, but had no clue what was about to happen.

In the weeks to follow, God began to pour out His blessings on my wife and I. It began with money coming to us from known and unknown sources. Bills that we hadn't known how we were going to pay were paid with money left over to give to ministries we believed in and had wanted to support. I landed a part-time job that with God's help meshed perfectly with my full-time job and helped to meet our financial needs. Situations that had heretofore seemed hopeless began to work themselves out miraculously. And finally, my part-time job with a well-know Christian ministry turned into a full-time opportunity.

God-willing, my life is not nearly over. I believe that He still has plans for me. I am finding a new sense of direction and calling for my life. It is true as it says in His Word, "And I am sure that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on that day when Christ Jesus comes back again." (Philippians 1:6 NLT) Surely, God heard me and He answered my prayers. I can't help but believe that it was in response to my desperately "crying out" to Him for answers. May I suggest that if you feel your prayers are not being answered or that God is somehow silent, try getting to a private place and literally crying out to Him for help. "This poor man called, and the LORD heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles." (Psalm 34:6 NIV)