Prayers of Consecration {From the Archives}

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God,

to present your bodies as a living sacrifice,

holy and acceptable to God,

which is your spiritual worship.

Romans 12:1, ESV

Painted Lady butterfly

In the course of a recent Bible study with my mother, we discussed the idea of entrusting ourselves and all we hold dear to the Lord. Below are a few prayers which I have found helpful in my morning-by-morning reconsecration to the Lord. Sometimes I benefit from borrowed words to broaden the scope of my prayers and expose, through the work of the Holy Spirit, dark corners of my heart the Lord needs to cleanse. May the Lord bless them to your benefit as well.

My God, I offer You this day my thoughts, words, and actions;

My sufferings and my joys;

My desires and my disappointments;

My loved ones, my enemies, and myself,

For Your glory and all the good intentions of Your divine heart.

(Amy Carmichael and tinuviel)

“Lord, teach me to treat everything that comes to me this day with peace of soul and the firm conviction that Your love rules over all” (Elisabeth Elliot, A Path Through Suffering).

“Lord, I am willing [to be made willing]

To receive what You give,

To release what You take,

To lack what You withhold,

To do what You require,

To be who You desire.”

(AdeleAhlberg Calhoun, Spiritual Disciplines Handbook, “Discernment”)

“Lord, take these things that the enemy would use to discourage and destroy, and turn them around to my good, to Your glory, and to the growth of Your people.” (Calhoun, SDH, “Discernment,” marked addition mine)

Abba, Father, as You wish. (tinuviel)

Your Most Basic Act of Worship

Lord, I’m Yours. Whatever the cost may be, may Your will be done in my life. I realize I’m not here on earth to do my own thing, or to seek my own fulfillment or my own glory. I’m not here to indulge my desires, to increase my possessions, to impress people, to be popular, to prove I’m somebody important, or to promote myself. I’m not here even to be relevant or successful by human standards. I’m here to please you.

I offer [entrust] myself to You, for You are worthy. All that I am or hope to be, I owe to You. I’m Yours by creation, and every day I receive from You life and breath and all things. And I’m Yours because You bought me, and the price You paid was the precious blood of Christ. You alone, the Triune God, are worthy to be my Lord and Master. I yield to You, my gracious and glorious heavenly Father; to the Lord Jesus who loved me and gave Himself for me; to the Holy Spirit and His gracious influence and empowering.

All that I am and all that I have [and all that I do, all that and whom I love, all that I hope,… ALL] I give to You.

I give You any rebellion in me, that resists doing Your will. I give You my pride and self-dependence, that tell me I can do Your will in my own power if I try hard enough. I give You my fears, that tell me I’ll never be able to do Your will in some areas of life. I consent to let You energize me… to create within me, moment by moment, both the desire and the power to do Your will.

I give You my body and each of its members…my entire inner being: my mind, my emotional life, my will…my loved ones…my marriage or my hopes for marriage…my abilities and gifts…my strengths and weaknesses…my health…my status (high or low)…my possessions…my past, my present, and my future…when and how I’ll go Home.

I’m here to love You, to obey You, to glorify You. O my Beloved, may I be a joy to You!

~31 Days of Praise, Ruth Myers [additions by tinuviel]




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Advent Joy {Elisabeth: A Poem}

"The Lord has done this for me. He has looked with favor in these days to take away my disgrace among the people" (Luke 1:25, HCSB).

An angel's good news beggars the priest's belief

And stops his mouth.

A seed of joy, sown by an expired prayer,

Takes root in his aged bride's shriveled womb,

Flutters, kicks new life into dead hopes.

Fruit of the promise swells, burgeons,

Tautens the walls of empty longing

With outlandish hope.

God sends a son called Grace*--

A son for Elisabeth--

Grace for her disgrace,

Favor for her shame,

Joy for her sorrow,

But grace upon grace:

Her Grace-child jumps for joy,

Joy dancing in her barren places.

Mute joy-leaps hail the Author of joy,
And the mother of Grace meets the mother of her Lord.

Grace rejoices in the coming

Of the Grace-giver Himself,

As near and as far

As the embrace of two unexpectedly expectant mothers

(One too soon, one too late, both in good time)

Rejoicing together in good news

Of the promise coming,

The Sunrise from on high dawning,

So near they can feel it kick.

*The name "John" is a variant of the Hebrew for "Yahweh is gracious."

Nightingale Songs

Our Father in heaven likes songs so much that He filled the earth with birds. Each one has its own special song to sing. When the sun peeks its head up each morn, they all sing together to make a chorus of beautiful music.

The cardinals sing a song of joy:
“Sunny day! Come and play. Cheer! Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!”

The wren sings a song of love:
“Ooh la la! My Cherie, won’t you come and be my bride?”

The blue jays sing a song of warning:
“Look out! A person! A dog! Beware! Beware!”

The chickadees can hardly sing for chortling:
“Tee hee! Tee hee! Giggledy ha, ha, ha, ha!”

The mockingbirds sing songs of echo:
“Cheer! Cheer! Be my bride! Beware! Beware! Teehee! Tee hee! Ha ha ha!”

They sing, and they sing,
Songs of cheer and love and warning.
But when the sun ducks its head below the western hills
And the winking moon awakes in the east,
The daybirds cease their melodies.
The cardinals sing their young a lullaby.
The wren stops his wooing and tucks himself into his empty flower pot.
The blue jays let the owls take their turn as sentry:
“Whoo! Whoo! Whooo goes there?”

The darkness wraps the land like a blanket,
And the nightingale takes up her song.

She sings a song of darkness.
She sings a song of loneliness.

She sings, “O God my Maker!
O Lord! O heavenly Father!”

She asks, “How long?
How long will the dark night last?
How long until the sunshine of Your face returns?
How long must I sing this lonely tune?
How long?
How long?”

She cries, “Why?
Why did the sparrow fall today?
Why did the bobcat slash?
Why did You let that hailstone strike?
Why?
Why?
Why?”

All the tears her eyes can’t cry pour forth from her throat.
At last, Venus the morning star gleams in the east.

The nightingale asks, “Maker God,
Send back Your light.
Send out Your truth.
Show us Your goodness.
Shine with Your grace.”

The first bluing of the sky begins to lighten.
Morning draws near.

The nightingale breathes out the last of her melody,
“Good night.
Good morning.
Let me rest now in peace, for You are near.
The darkness will lift.
The sun does come again.”

The sun stretches sleepy arms above the eastern trees.
The cardinals wake and sing their song of cheer.
The wren returns to his wooing.
The blue jays take up their watch again.
The chickadees laugh.
The mockingbirds mimic.
The owls tuck heads under wings and fall asleep.
The nightingale, her song drained dry,
Rests in God her Maker till darkness falls again.

Sun shines.
God smiles over all the many songs He hears,
But He draws closer than close to the nightingale.
He shelters her under His wing, close to His heart.
He treasures her brokenhearted song
And comforts her sorrow

With Himself.

Autumn Hope

The trees are weeping

Great arid tears

Of scarlet, gold, and flame—

Mourning winter’s onset

And doubting spring will come again.

Autumns sings in a minor key,
bagpipes droning the slave trader's hymn.
Loss, surrender, relinquishment thrum
beneath the glory of the turning leaves,
the crisp cool air,
the gentler light.

Even as tree limbs release
their grip on summer's glory
and exhalations of wind carry it
down, down, down to the earth,
farmers gather in their harvests,
the golden glory-fruit of so many seeds of hope
buried in soil nourished
by the weeping of the trees.

"I assure you: Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains by itself. But if it dies, it produces a large crop" (John 12:24, HCSB).

How Happy We Would Be!

    Once there was a little Johnny Jump-up with a gold and violet face.  All day long he hung his head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I were tall and elegant like the rose, how happy I would be!”
    On a trellis nearby grew a tall, slender climbing rose with petals like the flush of a baby’s cheek.  All day long she hung her head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I were strong and useful like the apple tree, how happy I would be.”
    Overhead arched the strong limbs of the apple tree, laden with sweet red fruit.  All day long he drooped his branches and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I had a cozy nest and a family to love like the robin, how happy I would be.”
    In its branches lived a little robin redbreast, hovering over her nest of speckled blue eggs.  All day long she hung her head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I were free to soar into the sky like the eagle, how happy I would be.”
    Aloft soared the eagle, alone and splendid.  All day long he hung his head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I could fly into heaven itself like the angels, how happy I would be.”
    In the heavens themselves, the angels went about serving God and His children among men.  One sad angel hung his head and sighed, “Oh me, oh my.  Oh my, oh me.  If only I could reign like God, with all things serving me, how happy I would be!”

    “O foolish, rebel creature!” said God.  “There is no God but Me.  Away with you into the outer darkness!”
    “As for you, silly eagle, “said the Lord, “If you flew into heaven, who would show the new strength I promise and the heights to which I call My people?”
    “As for you, little robin,” said the Lord, “If you soared like the eagle, who would show forth My tender care and provision for the smallest of My creatures?”
    “As for you, mighty tree,” said the Lord, “If you nested and nurtured like the robin, who would bring forth sweet fruit for the strength and joy of My people?”
    “As for you, precious rose,” said the Lord, “If you grew tall and thick like the apple tree, who would show the world both the beauty and the pain of life in this sinful world?”
    “As for you, tiny flower,” said the Lord, “If you were tall and elegant like the rose, who would make men smile and forget their worries in the beauty I lavish on the very ground they tread?”
    “O foolish creatures!  If you would only stop fretting over what you are not and enter into My joy in making you as you are, how happy you would be!”