The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifts under my nose, but it will have to wait.
It's prayer time and I've got a long list this morning. Family, church, friends, ministry, myself. But something in particular is tugging at my heart. Furrowing my brow.
The quiet helps focus my thoughts.
I recall that Jesus found quiet places to pray. Uninterrupted time with God. Oftentimes in Scripture, the quiet place Jesus found was the Garden of Gethsemane. He traveled through that olive orchard often as he visited Mary, Martha, and Lazarus on his way to and from Jerusalem.
Jesus spent his last night in the Garden before facing death. And he prayed. As a man he asked God to remove that cup of unbearable pain. As our Savior he submitted.
And something died.
Unrest and angst met their end in that Garden. Jesus left there in chains, but resolved to see His Father's plan through.
You see, prayer kills.
It slays restlessness. It murders worry. It suffocates indecision.
Yet in the same breath, it resurrects hope. Re-establishes peace. Restores equilibrium.
My brow unfurls. The heart tugs cease. Time to start the day walking by faith.
Although I do not know how God will answer what I prayed about this morning, I rest in the peaceful assurance that His plan is better than any I could conceive.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
.
