Okay, God. Here I am—obviously through divine intervention—sitting on a pile of fish guts in the belly of a whale, rapt with attention. All those cozy, whimsical childhood illustrations of Geppetto fishing by soft lamplight with Figaro off their swallowed, shipwrecked boat—lies. This place is creepy and an assault on the senses. I don’t even know what landed me here. I was praying for someone and then—BAM! Fish guts, slimy, hollow, dankness and definitely something swallowed alive curling around my left ankle. Great day to wear capris. So what’s up? Huh, the inside of a whale’s belly makes for a great projector screen. I guess we are rolling the tape…there I am praying for someone through email, searching for the right eloquent words with my thesaurus and dictionary piled on one side and the bible and commentaries on the other. My fingers are wound around my hair, eyes are bloodshot—the crazed look of a great writer in the throes of writer’s block, searching for the words to wow the recipient and all the BCCs.
Oops, where did this crown and scepter come from? I think I know why I am here. Yep, there it is projected in black on whale belly pink.
“And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others…do not keep babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words.” (Matthew 6: 5, 7)
It is possible that I should not have turned writing prayers into writing the next great novel. Oh, but that crown felt so good! As I was writing my advice and teaching theology while wildly waving my scepter, I could see the praise pouring in, elevating me to super-star status. (Wow. Side note—if you are a fictional wizard looking for a reliable delivery service, do not ever offer me the ring of power. I am NOT a Frodo.)
In Your infinite wisdom and mercy you show me a scene of what ministry should look like. The whale’s belly is backlit by the sun as we come to the surface near my Nineveh. The scene plays out. I see a restaurant. You are letting people who have heard about You and want to experience more of You in through Your open doors. I go to their table and listen to them list the desires of their hearts. I take their order, bring it to You, YOU make and plate the food that is so good it surpasses all understanding. I bring it back to the people. They gush over the deliciousness. I can share in their excitement, because, hey—I had that same thing for lunch yesterday. I point to YOU and say I will pass on the compliments to the chef. The parameters of my job are clear. I am supposed to memorize the menu and get to know and work well with You, the Chef. You do all the rest.
Well, spit me out and sign me up. This is much easier than what I was trying to do! Much less hair-pulling crazy-eyedness. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’ (Matthew 11; 28-30)
Lord, I thank you that You are the Creator of the Universe and Our Perfect Teacher. Forgive me for trying to take the credit for what You have done for us. I confess that I was pointing people to myself instead of pointing them to You. Thank You for forgiving me and lovingly redirecting me. Thank You that being in prayer ministry—being a good waitress—means I get to spend my time in Your Word, searching for YOUR WORDS to inspire and help people. Thank You that after delivering YOUR message, I get to see people’s reactions to YOUR love, grace, mercy, wisdom, assurance, comfort. Thank You for the honor of being able to point them back to YOU, the source of all the fabulousness. Thank you for allowing me to see their delight in YOU and YOUR delight in them. Help me to remember the simplicity of my job for Your Kingdom—to swivel and point. All praise to You! Amen.
After I get the seaweed smell out of my clothes let’s tackle writing that children’s book together. Pun intended.