Forever, Amen.

If I could type in whispers right now, I would.

Beginning this post after typing the title feels like an intrusion.

As though I’m breaking the silence after a heartfelt prayer.

But I couldn’t use anything else for my title, because my thoughts are centered around the concept in that simple statement.

How often do I say “amen,” only to pick up the topic of my prayer again later?

How many times do I skip the “amen,” because I’m having a continuous conversation with Jesus as I work?

What does “amen” even mean?

The literal translation is, “let it be,” or “so it is.”

It’s an expression of strong agreement, or a statement that says, “that’s the way it is.”

I think of “amen” as a peaceful, final punctuation mark, so that nothing can be argued after “amen” has been said – the topic is simply laid to rest.

That’s the way it is… so let it be.

Yet I say “amen” to prayers every day that I pray again the next day.

We all do that.

It’s because we live imperfect lives, in an imperfect world.

I may pray through my fears to a place of peace, and say, “amen.”

I can give all possible outcomes to God and reach total surrender, and say “amen.”

I can praise Him for the many ways He is good to me, both seen and unseen, and say with conviction, “amen.”

But that stamp of completeness, of perfection, that statement of “this is truth” isn’t permanent in a faulty world.

Those problems aren’t gone overnight – and God invites us to keep praying continually.

Our messy hearts will have more emotions to work through – and the Father wants to help us sort them.

His goodness won’t run out, and we will see Him move for our benefit and protection in many more ways. There will always be new things to thank Him for.

It’s not wrong that we pray many prayers. And say frequent amens.

But what would it be like to live in a world where no more amens were needed?

Where completeness would be eternal… where perfection would be unshaken, unchangeable, and amen would last forever?

That’s going to be our reality… in heaven.

This evening, my youth group sang in a long term care home for a beautiful group of people who’ve lived long lives.

One lady broke down in tears as we sang, and I wondered, what unmet longing in her heart caused her to cry?

Was she simply longing to go home after many years of living in this world?

How many other hearts in the room held silent aches for different things, and cry hidden tears for them?

How many in the room regularly take those heartcries to our Father… and often say “amen” to prayers that really aren’t completed yet?

“Eternal God, Faithful and True, all of our longings come Home to You.”

As we sang those lyrics, my mind was wandering deeper pathways than the simple beauty of the music.

Those lyrics were profound in the moment. I don’t know what caused the tears we witnessed – but I do know the One Who can fill every longing.

Every pain that every causes us to cry can be soothed by the perfect love of Jesus.

Every pain we carry here will fade and disappear when we at last “come home to Him.”

After singing a few more songs, we went to another location to practice for our youth program.

One song ends with each part coming in at a different time to sing “amen,” which is where I got the inspiration for this post.

We had to practice singing “amen” so often!

Why? Because none of them were truly perfect.

Just as our prayers here are continuous, and we always end up needing another “amen,” because our lives aren’t complete and perfect.

We eventually stopped singing amen. (I won’t pretend to imply it was heavenly, however it was sufficiently improved to allow us to move on to the next song.)

We will eventually stop having heartaches and tears and needs that we wrestle with until we reach an “amen.”

There’s a day coming where we’ll step out of time and brokenness into eternal perfection.

Into the Light of Jesus…

Into His welcoming embrace…

And every longing will be fulfilled in Him.

Every tear will be wiped away by Him.

Every aching heart will be soothed by Him.

Together, we will enter the completion of His will…

That we are united with Him in glory.

When we feel the perfection of Heaven fill our beings with eternal life,

All the angels will hush in anticipation…

Every heart will be flooded with joy…

And together, we will turn to face our King, then with one voice say, “Amen.”

“This – right here in Your Presence – together in heaven – all things made new – THIS is true. THIS is how it is meant to be. THIS is the way it is. Nothing can change that. So let it be… forever, AMEN.”

Christ – My Center in the Chaos

It’s Monday morning, grey and foggy, the air is damp and mild, and everything is a tad squishy.

But the trees are coated in beautiful white, a mysterious beauty encrusting their stark bareness against the grey sky.

And here in my classroom, all 23 of my people are working with me in our humming routine.

My coffee is steaming in one of my three favourite “at-school” mugs.

And it’s been a wonderful morning.

I arrived at school feeling sleepy after staying too late last night… set down my things on my desk, glanced at the daily plan, and saw the little sign beside my planbook. “But First, Pray,” it says.

I bought it at Hobby Lobby as a reminder to keep me praying for my students. It would be wonderful if teachers in Christian schools were something of the supernatural – some people think we are, it’s not true – and always managed to pray as much as we should for our students.

It would be great if I wouldn’t be prone to allowing my workload to cloud my vision and demanding priority, but I’m not supernatural. I’m fully human, and with a large class, I’ve struggled more than ever to keep up with everything I want to give my students this year.

But the letter board in my bedroom reminds me every morning when I rise, “yet not i, but through Christ in me.”

And the little sign I placed on my desk a few months ago calls me to prayer again when I arrive at school.

It might not always be long, but breathing a prayer for my students before they arrive, asking for an infilling of Spirit wisdom to teach not only their minds but their hearts, and eyes to see them the way their Creator does – eyes of unconditional love – it makes classroom life so much better.

There are often too many pieces to fit into a day, but when I invite Jesus into my schedule, He becomes the calm Center in my chaos and He always makes a way.

He’s there with me as I greet my students and ask about their weekends.

When class starts, I take prayer requests and am blessed to have so many students willing to pray for the needs of others in our global community of humanity. Hearing the prayers of their young hearts inspires me to keep tending their growth and never give up on them, no matter what may happen later in the day.

Christ is my calm as I walk them through the complexities of math class and answer an abundance of questions.

His Spirit provides answers in the moment-by-moment snap decisions that I need to make.

And somehow, at the end of every whirl of a day, the pile of books on my desk has diminished.

The lessons get taught, the work gets marked, and good conversations happen in the gaps.

I like my little sign that reminds me to pray.

Because the Lord knows I’m human, and humans forget, but it’s because of my humanity that it’s imperative that I remember.

No matter what I’m doing, I need to be stopped in my energetic tracks and let Him remind my soul,

“But first, Pray.”

“I Want to Go Across”

Surrounded by the playful shouts of running children, standing in the sunshine on the school playground, I inhaled slowly.

Exhaled.

Willed myself to forget my exhaustion and inner pain, and focus on the idyllic scene all around me.

Pain doesn’t disappear at command, apparently.

But joy can be sought and found, which I have discovered to be an effective method in getting through difficult times.

So once again, I determined to shift the focus from coping with these emotions, to seeking a reason to smile.

(Sometimes, we do have to walk through the messiness in our hearts. But there are times and places, like at school when you’re the teacher, that you need to be able to effectively distract yourself so that you can function well in your role.)

I turned slowly and took in everything… the area filled with running children, the delighted shrieks and giggles coming from the swings, the little boys so intensely committed to their baseball game…

Amid all the action, I noticed a child standing not far behind me.

All by herself, a post of the playground nearly hid her from my sight.

I stepped toward her, and the wispy, blonde ponytailed head peeked out.

Blue eyes held my gaze with a reproachful stare.

“How’s your day in kindergarten been so far?” I began.

“Good!” She replied instantly.

Hmmm. Okay, but she’s not playing with the others and doesn’t look too happy about something… I decided to try another tactic.

“Would you like to play with the others?”

Very sweetly, but with 5 year old confidence, she answered in the negative.

“Are you enjoying your recess, just relaxing here?”

“No.”

O-Kay! This time, her negative answer held an accusing tone.

“I’m sorry to hear that – can you tell me why?”

Again, Miss Tiny’s confident voice sounded accusing. A little arm stretched up and pointed at the swinging rings on the playset as she declared, “I want to go across.”

“I’ve been waiting,” she added. “And no one came to help me.”

I patiently apologized, assured her I would be glad to help, now that I knew she wanted to go across.

In my mind, I thought, “And this is why I’m not a kindergarten teacher. Like – how long would she have waited if I hadn’t seen her there? Here I’m feeling terrible for not noticing sooner, yet she could have told me!”

As she beamed down at me while I guided her from one ring to the next, I was still exasperated and amused inside. May God bless all kindergarten teachers with wisdom to read the minds of their students… and understand without being told when they “want to go across.”

Suddenly, it was like God turned the lights on and revealed the purpose for this little exchange. Just like that, I saw myself.

Timidly standing at the bottom of the steep mountain range, stubbornly refusing to ask anyone for help.

Just waiting.

Wondering where God is, and when He’s going to show up to help me navigate this.

Sure, He knows what I need and can read my thoughts before I tell Him. But even when I can predict what a student needs by the desparate jabbing of their hand in the air, I still appreciate when they use their communication skills to tell me. Does God not desire me to do the same?

His Father-Heart wants connection with me, and that is formed when I speak to Him in prayer.

He desires my expression of trust in coming to Him and saying, “I can’t do this alone… I need Your help.”

He loves when I acknowledge Him for Who He is, and admit that I’m at the end of myself.

I set the little girl safely on the platform after helping her across, and as she runs off to play, I smile at the retreating ponytail that bounces with her steps.

A little child shall lead them…

I returned to the place I stood before, no longer hugging myself so tightly as if trying to hold my fragile heart together.

It’s time to stop staring at the mountain and wondering how to get over it.

I’m done pacing in circles at the foot of it, asking why God hasn’t taken it away.

That simple exchange at recess was designed by a Divine Hand to show me what I need to do…

I stretched out my hands and whispered,

“God, I want to go across.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell You sooner, and that I just kept asking You why You haven’t come to go up the mountain with me. You’ve been here waiting to start the climb, just patiently waiting until I humble myself to acknowledge my need.

So here I am now, God. I know I’m too weak to climb this by myself. Will You help me?

I want to go across.”