Muzzled

Why am I afraid to pray? 

Deliberately avoiding the secret place, skipping out on devotions just so I don’t have to meet with God face to face,  actually rejecting grace.

I watched as hours, days, weeks, months pass without saying a word.

He waited days, weeks, months... time for me to come back. I had it on my mind to check in but I found it so hard to say the words, to open my mouth. I used my mind instead of my words; lips sealed, choked up by fear, guilt, insecurity, lost interest or simply not knowing what to say first. 

I felt trapped. 

Trapped in my own my mind at times, but refused to use the one instrument Jesus gave power; the very thing He anointed.

But why did I hide from my identity, my intimacy, my power? 

My voice closed off. 

They called me intercessor, prayer warrior, watchman, even prophet, but I called them and even God a liar when I kept my mouth shut. Even though I knew deep down what He said was true. 

So, Jesus died and rose and gave me access to enter boldly but I shied away. He placed no restrictions on my authority. He gave me the keys to His Kingdom but I think I lost them. I heard him knocking but I didn’t know if I wanted to invite him in. 

Whatever reason I can surmise doesn’t bare weight against the relentless love and grace that keeps coming back, that keeps calling and echoing my name. 

Still I stand, comfortably shackled by my chains of guilt, shame, and disgrace. His voice came overwhelming the struggle I had going on deep in my thoughts. His power shook me from the core until it resounded to my fingers, finding its way to extensions I found familiar. Breaking them off totally.

Shackles completely shattered.  

They fell to the ground, and He didn’t stop there. An utterance of His word sparked a dying ember that awakened and flickered to a flame. Soon enough, a blazing fire emerged, bringing with it a burning desire to seek out the One who caused this stirring.

I bow. I crave.  

I finally say the words.

-Written by T. Gordon