Kathy Geary Anderson

A drought can be overwhelming, can’t it?

I realize this every time I go out to water my lawn and garden. We live on a large acreage. There’s absolutely no way I could water the hundreds of trees and acres of grass that cover our property. The best I can do is try to maintain a small island of green in the area that surrounds our house. Even then, the battle seems hopeless. Each new day of 100+ temperatures and absolutely no rain takes its toll. Our hydrangeas are wilty, our hostas are fried, and more than one of our potted plants has surrendered completely in spite of my best efforts in triage.  It’s like spitting on a forest fire. The trouble is I’m trying to bring man-made tools to a God-sized problem. No amount of watering I can do could come close to what God could accomplish in one afternoon of rain.

Ever feel like that in your prayer life? Sometimes when I sit down to pray for myself and others, I can feel overwhelmed by the vast amount of hurting and pain in this world. We all have them—those lists of broken relationships, incomprehensible tragedies, insurmountable health issues, and lost and floundering loved ones. The weight of it all can sometimes seem more than I can bear. Then, this week God showed up with an answer to one of my prayers that was so miraculous it caught me by surprise.

What I’d forgotten was I’m not meant to bear these burdens nor struggle to find the answers myself. That’s God’s job. My job is to lay them at his feet in believing expectancy that He can and will answer—sometimes has already answered before I even thought to utter the prayer.

Will you pray with me today?

Dear Lord, I confess my faith is often smaller than the mustard seed, more pitiful than a grain of sand. And yet you answer my prayers—not only answer, but completely blow me away with your awesome power to accomplish the impossible. You’ve promised if we ask in faith, we can tell mountains to go jump in the lake. So I lay my mountains before you—all my impossibilities, all my doubts, all my fears—in  humble expectancy of your goodness and faithfulness to answer and provide. Lord, I believe . . . help my unbelief. Amen.