Prayer is the Work

My friends and I have a motto for when we’re on the road for the film project God’s called us to: “Prayer is the work.”  When we don’t know which city to drive to next, prayer is the work. When we don’t have enough money for gas or the night’s motel room, prayer’s the work. When we need an interview or a mentor or prayer partners, prayer is the work. For four years, we’ve prayed earnest, searching, sometimes desperate prayers, and God has exceeded our expectations. Prayer is the work…on the road.

My friends and I have a motto for when we’re on the road for the film project God’s called us to: “Prayer is the work.”  When we don’t know which city to drive to next, prayer is the work. When we don’t have enough money for gas or the night’s motel room, prayer’s the work. When we need an interview or a mentor or prayer partners, prayer is the work. For four years, we’ve prayed earnest, searching, sometimes desperate prayers, and God has exceeded our expectations. Prayer is the work…on the road.

God has proven Himself faithful, abundant, ever-present when we’re on the road. He has shown us that He cares about the big stuff (the project, safety) but the little stuff, too (maybe a better pillow tonight, a really good salad for lunch). He loves us through every yes and every no. On the road, God’s big.

But that’s on the road. At home, I forget. At home, I have calendars and paychecks and deadlines to guide me. Here, self-sufficient habits can get me through—I can put my life in neutral and still get most stuff done. At home, I get homesick for my God, because I forget that prayer is the work.

On the road, I ask God to help me pray the prayers He wants to answer. I pray alone, and with the others. I write, sing, speak, breathe prayers. I’m thankful, I’m angry, I’m wrecked, I’m open. I am full of faith because He shows up faithfully.

At home, I have quiet times that are scheduled and sectioned and completed and done, and then I start my “real” day. Seriously? I don’t want the spiritual highlight of my year to be the time away. I want it here, now, everyday. Yes, I know we all go through cycles. Yes, I know that mission trips and camp and times God calls you away are different. But I don’t want to reserve it for the road. I mean, I know this stuff—I know the feeling of living smack-dab in the center of His will. Prayer doesn’t stop being the work when my suitcase is unpacked.

If prayer is the work then, prayer is the work now. If He cares when I’m in missionary-mode, then He cares when I’m in real life. I see the difference: the adrenaline, the focus, the adventure when I’m in the zone. But God just sees me, and how I dependent I am on Him day-to-day, wherever I am.

Prayer is the work when laundry piles cover the floor and supper’s late, when writer’s block strikes or commutes become competitive. It’s the work when my husband and I are sharing confidences or laughing so hard I get the hiccups. Prayer is the work when I miss my Father, when I’m not submitting to the Spirit, when I’m not conforming to Christ. It may not be as dramatic as on the road, but I think I’m going to bring my motto home this time. Perhaps there’ll be more adventure here than I know, once prayer is the work.