Yesterday, I watched two young boys in a rowboat,
Pulling at oars in the stern,
Paddling wildly to make progress,
Perhaps out for a day of fishing,
But fighting hard against the wind
To find a place, where the fish might bite.
They looked determined,
Amidst the choppy water,
Unbridled and unconscious strength,
It’s a way, I thought, young men
Emerging from the cocoon of foolish play.
Then, it occurred to me
How much like those boys I am,
When it comes time to pray.
God watches me paddle the boat of intercession,
With all of life, at times aligned against it.
Though He’s given me a spirit led desire
To ‘get to where the fish are biting,’
In my determined state,
He does something more,
Brings something out of me,
Dormant accept for the opportunity
Being in the boat with Him affords.
As we’re together,
Our co-mingled joy in the struggle,
Cracks the cocoon of foolish, idle prattle,
And brings alive in my heart,
A germane desire to seek wisdom,
From it’s solitary source.
With my Companion in the boat,
Next to me doing the rowing,
Doing the leading,
Doing the whispering,
I sense that nothing this side of heaven
Rival’s the life-fullness I find
In being in the same place
As He in prayer,
Knowing that He’s the one rowing, not me.
Because on cloudy, windy days, I utter monosyllable words of weakness,
Pretending its prayer,
But knowing He’s really the One by me in the boat,
Fighting conspiracies, and my own tired excuses,
Shoulder to shoulder,
Taking the oar and digging hard,
To find the schools of fish,
He knows, I want so badly to see in heaven.
“Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the spirit himself intercedes for us with groaning’s too deep for words.” Romans 8: 26