Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:6-8).

I was determined not to be a pastor.

To say “determined” might be overstating things a bit. Let’s just say I was certain my life’s path would take me in a different direction. I had no interest “the ministry.” I would not be following in my dad’s footsteps, and I told him so (in a nice way). “I’ll never do what you do.”

Funny how a brief conversation that took place in the car forty-five years ago can stay with you.     

What I felt wasn’t resistance as much as it was resolve. The pastor life was a life I didn’t want, and the reason was simple: I didn’t like moving. My life experience had taught me that being a pastor meant moving, and fairly often. I didn’t like doing that as a kid, and I was sure I didn’t want to continue that or repeat it in my grown-up life.

When I prayed, which was hit and miss back then, the last thing on my mind or in my heart was “send me.”

The prayer I was more likely to offer was, “send someone else.”

Going Anyway

I had solid biblical precedent for my “send someone else” prayer. Moses had made a move from Egypt to Midian (for personal reasons) where he had married the daughter of the local priest and settled into the quiet vocation of a shepherd. He had been living that life for forty years when God appeared to him in a burning bush and offered him a new job (Exodus 3).

Moses demurred. Surely God could find someone more qualified for the task of going back to Egypt and securing the freedom of the Israelite people. After a good bit of back and forth, Moses finally said, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it” (Ex. 4:13).

“Then the Lord’s anger burned against Moses” (4:14). That’s not good.

You know how this went down. Moses ends up going anyway. God didn’t send someone else in Moses’ place, but he did send someone else to go with Moses.   

I share Moses’ reluctance, his preference for staying put and settling in. And yet, my own story seems to be a long story of God’s sending ways. Yes, in my growing up years it was my dad who was being sent. But despite my declaration in that car conversation forty-five years ago, God’s sending has taken me through the Carolinas and Virginia, down to Georgia, as far west as Texas, back to the familiar homeland of metro Atlanta, and then (never saw this coming) up to the Northeast.

Not Where but How         

Here’s what I’ve come to understand after forty-five years, living in multiple states and loving the life I vowed to my dad to avoid.

When you pray “send me,” you’re not putting in for a transfer. You can pray this prayer and live your entire life in one zip code. A “send me” prayer has less to do with where you are, and more to do with how you are. To pray “send me” is to say that you’ll go back to the place you’ve known for years – but you’ll go belonging to God, reflecting his character, sharing his love.

A “send me” prayer speaks to your way of being in the world.

And one more thing: If you look at your place and the life you’re living right now, it makes no sense to say, “send someone else.” There is no one else. God has you in the place you inhabit today, living the life you’re living today. And he’s sending you as his ambassador (2 Cor. 5:20).         

So here at the start of this day, pray “send me.” And then live this day as one sent.

Prayer:

Lord, here I am. Send me. And prepare me for whatever that might mean. Whether going or staying, whether rooted or roaming, I belong to you. Send me into this day filled with your Spirit, bringing Jesus to those around me, I ask in his name. Amen.   

Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.” Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:6-8).

After church this past Sunday, someone asked me a good (and hard) question about the scripture text that Marnie had just preached through as we looked at the “Send me” prayer spoken by the prophet Isaiah.

Once the prophet prays, “Here I am. Send me,” God paints a bleak picture of what the mission will involve. Isaiah will speak, but his message will not be understood or grasped, even though people can hear him loud and clear. The proclamation of God’s words will serve to make hearts calloused and ears dull. God’s people would plug their ears to his word for so long “that response would become impossible for them” (David Garland).

Isaiah may be eager to go, sent by God, but the going will be tough (6:9-10).   

Lousy Chance of Success

This week we’re thinking about a pattern of prayer in which we offer ourselves to God, saying “send me.” Our model for such a prayer is Isaiah and his answer to God’s searching question, “Who will go for us?”  

Isaiah is all in: “Here I am. Send me.”

We might be tempted to think that Isaiah prayed that prayer without adequate information. When he speaks those words, he doesn’t fully understand what he’ll be up against. He doesn’t know how hard it will be. He doesn’t realize how obstinate people are capable of being. He doesn’t grasp that his success rate will be dismal, or worse.

But as we step back and look at the larger setting of Isiah’s short prayer, we see that his “send me” has nothing to do with the ease or glory or reward of the mission. When Isaiah prays “send me” God hasn’t told him much about the mission.

Isaiah prays “send me” because of what he has seen and knows about God.

A Compelling Vision

Before Isaiah speaks, he sees. And what he sees changes him. Tectonic plates in his soul shift and the upheaval nearly undoes him.

Isaiah is given a vision of the holiness of God, “the Lord seated on a throne,” surrounded by flying angelic beings who sing “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord Almighty.” Jen Wilkin writes, “the God of Israel possesses a holiness so blinding that no one can look on him and live . . . not even the sinless angelic beings who inhabit his immediate presence can look upon him, instead shielding their gaze with their wings.”

In the blazing light of God’s holiness every smudge in Isaiah’s life is exposed. The holiness of God leads him to confession: “I am a man of sinful lips.” He’s not wrong. But one of those angelic beings takes a coal and purges his unclean lips, taking away his guilt. Then, and only then, is Isaiah ready for a calling or commission. Only then is he ready to go, to be sent.

Isaiah’s “send me” is his response to what he sees and knows about God.

The same is true of us. The clarity of our vision of God determines the clarity of our calling.                     

Our “send me” prayers seem to be less about what we will do for God, and more about our response to God and who God is.

So what do you see? How would you describe your vision of who God is?

Prayer:

Holy God, our vision of who you are is so easily trivialized by the world we are immersed in day after day. Restore to us a glimpse of your blazing glory, the holiness sung by angels. Make us ready to be sent, having seen who you are, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen

I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing (Genesis 12:2).

So far this week we’ve observed that God’s impulse is to bless his people. He delights in blessing us, and this gives us some confidence in coming to God with our “bless me” prayers. To this we added the biblical truth that God’s blessings were never intended to be trophies for us to safeguard and put on display. The blessings you receive are meant to be shared. You, like Abraham, are blessed to be a blessing.

The question we’re left to answer is, “How do we do that?”

God’s blessings are not like a Snuggie, some kind of generic amorphous thing that anyone can slip into. God blesses you within the details of your life, according to your need, in recognizable ways that demonstrate his grace and favor.  

As you then turn to others to be a blessing, you do the same thing. Who are the people that God has placed in your path, the neighbor that lives on your street, the co-worker you pass in a hallway every day, the person who works a register at the place where you buy groceries? What is their story? How can you bless them?

There are no simple answers to this question, but there are some simple steps for getting started.           

A Listening Ear

Far too many people have no clue what it’s like to have someone take them seriously and attend to their words. Most of us live every day in a world where words and messages are aimed at us constantly. Rarely are we met with attentive silence, a readiness to hear our words. When you listen well to another person, you bless them. When you add to that a good and insightful question that invites them to share more, you give an added blessing. This is something you can do today. Ask a good question of someone in your world and stick around for the answer.    

An Encouraging Word

When you do speak, speak a word of encouragement. One of the simplest and most common ways of blessing another person is with your words. Paul’s counsel to the Ephesians needs to be heard again in the noise of social media posts. Say “only what is helpful for building others up, according to their need, that it may benefit those who listen”

(Eph. 4:29).

A Prayer

This hardly requires explanation. The person you seek to bless may not necessarily know that you’re praying for them. But you need not be shy about it. Ask “How can I pray for you?” Let them tell you. And then – and this part is critical – pray about what they share. You might do this with them. You might do this privately. But do it.

A Helping Hand

Listening and speaking and praying are all wonderful. But while you’re doing all this, you might become aware of a need, a tangible ordinary need – like a ride to work or church, or some basic groceries, or a tool for a certain project. The list of possibilities is a long one. You can be a blessing by meeting the particular need they have. Caution: this might not be convenient. But the call to be a blessing doesn’t hide a clause that promises convenience.  

One Final Thought

The final thought is this: Live your life as a blessed person. Live this day like a person who has been on the receiving end of God’s favor. Let that truth define you. Someone in your world just might be praying “bless me” today.

And God’s answer to that prayer just might be you.

Prayer:

God of every blessing, we are asking for your blessings today – and especially for the blessing of your Spirit that empowers us to bring blessing to others. We ask this in the name of your son Jesus. Amen.  

May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face shine on us— so that your ways may be known on earth, your salvation among all nations (Psalm 67:1-2).

Thinking this week about blessings and “bless me” prayers, my mind has meandered to an old church song about counting our blessings. I’m not sure if the song is technically a “hymn.” It has a bouncy feel to it that evokes a Sunday night hymn sing in a Southern Baptist Church.

The refrain slows just a bit and seems to stretch out the words as the song tells us to “count your blessings, name them one by one; count your many blessings, see what God hath done.”

Counting blessings, we are told, is the remedy for much of what ails us. The burdens we carry are lightened by the blessings we count. So count them. And name them as you do.

What the song says is probably true. There is surely power in naming and counting our blessings. But naming and counting are not the reasons God blesses us. And when we pray “bless me” prayers, we’re not asking for something that we can merely name and count.

God blesses us for more than that.

Don’t Hoard Your Blessings

Every blessing that comes to you is on its way to someone else.

We do not ask God to bless us so we can receive and relish and store up the blessings God gives. In blessing us, God’s hand is open, and we welcome his gifts with open hands. But having received his blessing, we do not suddenly clutch and keep what has come to us by his grace. We likewise turn toward the world with open hands to share these blessings with others.

God blesses us so that we might bless the world.

This truth emerges early in the arc of the biblical narrative. After the downward spial of Genesis 1-11, wrecking the good creation and plunging the world into all manner of murderous rebellion, God initiates a rescue plan that begins with one man. God chooses Abraham, promising to give him a great name and a great family.

“I will bless you . . . and you will be a blessing” (Genesis 12:2).

As we saw yesterday, God’s impulse is to bless – but not just one man, or one family, or one nation of people. God’s promise to bless Abraham comes with a calling. “And all peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (12:30).         

The same thing is seen in Psalm 67, a prayer that bolts out of the gate with “bless us.” “May God be gracious to us and bless us.” This petition is immediately coupled with a purpose. The Psalmist is asking for God’s blessing “that [God’s] ways may be known on earth, his salvation among all nations” (Ps. 67:1-2). We are blessed to make his saving ways known around the globe.

To pray “bless me” is to participate in God’s world-wide mission of rescue and restoration. For that reason, every blessing that comes to you is on its way to someone else.

Do More than Count

Next Thursday many of us will gather around tables that nearly sag under the weight of blessing. At some of these gatherings, naming and counting blessings will be as much a fixture of the day as the meal itself. Some will take a few moments to openly name a blessing, or several.

If you have a chance to do this, do so joyfully (yes, some folks dread this kind of thing). Count and name your blessings with a thankful heart. They truly are signs that point you to what “God hath done.”

But then do more than count.

When the dishes are clean and the leftovers have been bagged and placed in the fridge; when the final seconds of the fourth quarter have reached the take-a-knee part of the game, then resolve to live your life as an answer to what “God hath done.”

Blessings are not just a story of what God has done. They are an invitation to a story of what you are being called to do.

You are blessed to be a blessing. We’ll talk more about how to do that tomorrow.

Prayer:

We know all too well, O God, that your blessings are beyond counting and naming. We give you thanks for every one of them. And we are bold to keep asking – “bless me.” Make us mindful of why we ask. Make us aware of what your blessings mean for us and the way we live. Work through us to bless our neighbors, to bless the nations. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen. 

May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face shine on us— so that your ways may be known on earth, your salvation among all nations (Psalm 67:1-2).

Every Monday morning, I receive an email newsletter from Jen Pollock Michel, an author whose work I greatly appreciate. Yesterday morning, fresh on the heels of Marnie’s Sunday message at Grace Church on “bless me” prayers, I read a sentence from Jen that gave me pause. It invited a slow re-reading and a few moments of stillness to let it settle on the heart and mind.

The sentence: “From Genesis to Revelation, we read that God’s first and last impulse is to bless his people.”

I think it was the word “impulse’ that grabbed me by the collar. There’s nothing especially novel, or even interesting, about stating that God blesses his people. It’s almost cliché. A truth worn thin, threadbare. We know God blesses, at least on occasion. What might come as news to many of us is that it is his impulse to do so.

God is not merely capable of blessing us. God wants to do so. He intends blessing for us.     

His Open Hand

There’s an image in the Psalms that seems to capture God’s impulse to bless us. That image, showing up in Psalms 104 and 145, is God’s open hand.

Psalm 104 is an extended meditation or song that celebrates God’s beauty and power in the created world. “The earth is full of your creatures,” marvels the Psalmist. All of them look to God “to give them their food at the proper time.” God opens his hand, and every creature is “satisfied with good things” (Ps. 104:24-28).

Psalm 145 repeats the same idea. The eyes of all look to God and he gives them their food at the proper time. God “opens [his] hand and satisfies the desires of every living thing” (Ps. 145:15-16).

God’s hand is open to us, freely giving what is good, what we need – and even what we desire. His open hand bespeaks his impulse to bless us. I’m wondering if we’ve somehow gotten a different picture in our mind of God’s hand.

Do we tend to see his hand clutched, tightly concealing blessings that need to be earned or otherwise coaxed from his grip?

Do we see his hand curled up in a fist, threatening, demanding, ready to strike us or pound the table in frustration with us?

A superficial concordance search of the English word “fist” reveals that in scripture we’re usually the ones making a fist, doing violence to our neighbor, or even shaking it at God. Yes, God can gather the winds in his fists (Pr. 30:4). But when it comes to you and me, he is open handed, ready to bless.

Red-Knuckled Before the Lord

On Sunday Marnie mentioned that when we pray “bless me” prayers, we do so from a certain posture before God. Part of that posture is a readiness to receive what God gives.

In other words, just as God’s hand is open toward us to bless, we likewise open our hands to receive the blessing God is only too eager to give us.

Again, we seem prone to a red-knuckled resistance to blessing. Our hands are not always open to the hand that is open to us. Maybe that’s because we’re holding tightly to some other thing that we’re afraid to let go of. And yet, at the same time, we’re not hesitant to ask God for blessing: bless my work, bless my kids, bless the nation, bless this food.

This week we’re thinking about “bless me” prayers. I probably don’t need to exert myself too hard to get you to pray such prayers. We do it all the time, for all kinds of things.

But what are we asking God to do?

And why do we ask God to bless us? What is the end game?

We’ll explore all this a little more in the days to come. For today, in what ways are you asking God to bless you?

Prayer:

Gracious God, we give you thanks today for your open hand and your readiness to bless your people. Grant that we might live this day in your presence, ready to receive your blessings, bold to seek them in prayer. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen. 

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1).

When we moved to Pennsylvania from Georgia seven years ago, our Atlanta congregation gifted us two snow shovels. I don’t think they intended to double up on that gift, but the Tuesday morning men’s ministry and the midweek Bible study I taught both had the same idea independently. Thus, two snow shovels.

Each time the gift was presented everyone in the room had a good laugh. Atlantans are amused (and a little baffled) that southerners would voluntarily move to the Northeast. They enjoyed the subtle warning that came with the gift. The implied prophetic word did not go unfulfilled. As it turns out, we’ve needed both of those snow shovels.

A couple of years ago we received what I deem a “manageable” snowfall here in the Lehigh Valley, the kind I’ve grown to appreciate as a transplanted southerner. The morning dawned to reveal a pristine blanket of white, not too deep, more powder than wet sludge. It was the kind of snow that can be easily dealt with by using a snow shovel. A “manageable” snow doesn’t even require shoveling. It can be pushed off the driveway.

On this particular occasion I got busy moving the snow and noticed my next-door neighbor was nearly finished doing the same thing. Before I had cleared half of my driveway, my neighbor came over and started helping me move snow. In less than an hour the snow was cleared, and I had learned a lot more about my neighbor. It was a win in more ways than one.

Looking back on it I’m struck by how surprised and thankful I was for my neighbor’s help.

Even more, I’m struck by the awareness that had it not been feely given, I would never have asked for it.

“Help Me”

The concrete slab on which we build a life of prayer, perhaps the most basic of all prayers, is the cry to God for help. This week we turn our attention to this familiar prayer, offered by even the most irreligious among us: “Help me.” So much of our praying comes from a posture of need. It is born in our lack.

In her message at Grace Church this past Sunday, Marnie opened by observing that we tend to pray “help me” prayers all the time: from “help me get through this chemo treatment,” to “help me find a parking place.” Whether consciously or not, we are always asking God for help.

And at the very same time, we seem inclined to neglect “help me” prayers. We are enamored with “self-help.” We love the rugged independence that relies only on whatever smarts or strength we already possess.

We are often slow to pray. And in our self-reliance, we discover the truth of the old hymn: we forfeit our peace and bear needless pain “all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.”      

The Limits of Self

When we pray “help me,” we often do so knowing that we have reached the limits of our self. We’ve exhausted every plan and every resource that we looked to in order to manage life on our own. In this sense, a “help me” prayer is a prayer of surrender. We pray from a place of humility.     

Perhaps today you’re dealing with something, and you have yet to ask God for help. Some of the most daunting challenges we face are things that no one else can really help us with. No one can alleviate your grief, or talk you out of your depression, or cure your cancer, or dig you out of debt. But God is able to do more than we ask or imagine. And God is always ready to help – an “ever present help in trouble.” 

A life of faith doesn’t allow us to claim immunity to the troubles that lead us to ask for help. But faith can make us bold in our asking.

How are you asking God for help these days?

Prayer:

Ever present God, you are far more ready to help us than we are to pray. Today we come to you from our lack; we come from a place of need. In ways known fully to you, we need your help. Come by your Spirit and do what we cannot do for ourselves. Come and help us in ways that exceed what we ask for. We pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.    

Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting (Psalm 139:23-24).

At some point this past summer, Marnie announced to me that she intended to make a banana pudding. Such an announcement came as a good tiding of great joy and was met with my eager approval. I would gladly do whatever I could to help her accomplish this task. Given my lack of skills in the kitchen, I knew that wouldn’t be much.

The one task that fell to me, well within my skill set, was the retrieval of a trifle dish from the basement.

This would be no ordinary banana pudding. At the mention of the trifle dish, I saw what would soon be set before me: layers of banana and cream, piled up to the full height of the dish, topped with a generous supply of vanilla wafers. I couldn’t get to the basement fast enough.

Beyond ‘Looking’

The only problem was there was no trifle dish to be found – at least not where I was looking. We have two basement closets. After striking out at the first one, I went to second, only to be further baffled and disappointed. I bounced back and forth between the two closets for a while thinking it just had to be there, only to discover with each visit that it wasn’t.

I knew what would happen if I went back upstairs empty handed. My wife would go the basement and walk to those very same closets, and she’d have the dish in hand in seconds. I know this from experience (I don’t understand how she does it). I refused to admit defeat.

Back at closet # 2 I took the step of taking a step, moving into the closet, putting my hands on some of the items on an upper shelf, shoving them aside – and there it was. On the shadowy backside of the shelf, behind the Costco bulk-box of zip-loc bags.

I emerged from the basement victorious. I emerged slightly chagrined, repeating silently to myself something I’ve long known but have yet to learn: There’s a difference between looking and searching. I had looked for the trifle dish repeatedly, to no avail. My looking left too much unseen. Success came with searching.

Search Me

Our God is a searching God. Scripture tells us that God sees us, but there are times when what we need goes deeper than that. We know that God watches over us, but we easily confuse God’s watching with that of a dour chaperone at the lock-in. We know that God searches for us, the good shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one.

This searching is different. God searches us, examines and probes and investigates what we’ve tried to hide, or what we simply don’t see when left to ourselves.

We might not be sure we want God to deal with us this way. But this week we’re thinking about what it means to invite God’s searching.

Search me and know my heart, my anxious thoughts, my hurtful or grievous way.

Does God’s searching unsettle you or comfort you? What might hinder us from inviting God to “search me?”

Prayer:

Searching God, we confess our reluctance to invite your searching, your deep look into every corner of our will, our emotions, our thoughts. Still, we will pray boldly with the Psalmist, “search me.” We pray confident that your limitless knowledge of us is matched by your limitless love. We come before you now, open to your searching, praying in Jesus’ name. Amen.