Why Doesn’t God Answer My Prayer

August 9, 2015 by Rachel Britz 2 Comments

Recently I discovered a sore spot in my heart with God. I’m being honest with you here. Don’t worry, we’ve worked it out (for today) but something was revealed to me in the process that I want to share.

This tender spot centers on unanswered prayer.

Mine is an age-old prayer. Which basically means that I’ve been praying this same prayer for ages and now I feel old and tired. Thus, an age-old prayer. My guess is that you have one too. While other prayers have come and gone, been lifted up and returned with rich, tangible blessings; this big elephant continues to sit on my heart. Sometimes I forget just how long I’ve been praying. Really, I do!

Last week I received two of the most encouraging messages from a few friends. Each independent of each another, and sharing with much celebration that God had answered their prayer. Amazing! I rejoiced with them because I too had been rallying on their behalf. God heard our prayers and delivered. Praise be!

And then shortly after the confetti fell I felt this little sting. It’s not like me to get all pouty with God but for some reason I did. I’m not gonna lie. In this moment I seriously asked God why he can’t just answer this one…the age-old. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I get the fact that there can be reasons for our unanswered prayers.

Sometimes it’s a test of our faith.
Or it’s an issue of repentance.
Maybe we need to forgive.
Perhaps it’s the motive of our plotting heart.
Have we dealt with our unbelief.

All of the above, right? I can tell you that I’ve traveled to All of those places on this age-old prayer journey. Yet, unanswered still remains. But it’s going to be all right. Everything will be okay. Because the truth came to me in a single word:

Humility.

A state of being low, bent, and powerless. To remain humble means that I’ll be kept small so as not to live and reign in the kingdom of me.

Humility is the resource God uses to draw my cupped hands Heavenward time and time again.

And so, the Lord brought about this word into the swollen chamber of my heart and I think I get it – I mean, I really get it. I know that WHEN the healing comes it’ll be grand and His timing will be perfect but, for what it’s worth – and to me it’s worth my EVERYTHING that I’d remain low all the days of my life. That I might demonstrate Christ and His Supremacy in me. That I might remain low means that He holds all the power. So I say, Praise be!

Until the age-old crumbles, I’ll stay low.

I’ll stay humble for you, my King.

Jimmy Fallon and Discovering Your High Calling

July 16, 2015 by Rachel Britz Leave a Comment

Do you know what your calling is?

It’s a question that rumbles through me every so often. Sometimes I respond with a definitive nod. It depends on my current state of affairs, I suppose. Mostly though, the question feels like a hard-to-reach itch. And no matter how hard I try to ease the underlying prickle, full satisfaction is nearly difficult to attain.

This “calling” I’m referring to is one that relates to our life work through the various gifts and abilities God has given. This is my wrestle, and although I may not understand this “calling” by a specific title I have learned a few things about the means God uses to draw us into Kingdom work.

Our calling rests in the place where we’ve experienced deep suffering or adversity.

Jimmy Fallon made a proclamation about his calling the other night. Did anyone see it? After nearly loosing his finger, enduring a six hour reconstructive surgery to save his finger, and then ten days of healing in the hospital he emerged with a deeper understanding of what on earth he was made to do.

How?

He experienced deep suffering. And he used that time and space for healing to consider the meaning of his life. {Watch the video}

For me, one of the deepest valleys in my life was when God wooed me into surrendering the monster of alcohol. Since that time, my passion for writing and speaking Truth and Christ-centered stories of hope emerged.

Why?

Because of God’s grace {favor}, His gentle hand of bringing me back in line, His showing me that He is love and sovereign and mighty to defeat the greatest monsters and yet, draw me into that perfect love again and again. This, my friends is what I desire to tell you. This, my friends is what I pray that you will seek for your own life. That you may really know God and allow Him to enter into your life and allow Him to radically transform you into His likeness.

“Consider if pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking in anything.” {James 1:2-4}

Carry on, friends. Trust that this great suffering is developing your character so that you may enter into your predestined work, for His glory. Yes? Yes!

My Story: Overcoming the Drunken Monster Within

July 9, 2015 by Rachel Britz 6 Comments

I’ve spent some time in the dungeon of self-hatred. The term was only a few short years but let me tell you, it was hell down there. A prison-of-sorts where my worth was beaten repeatedly. My image so bruised that it even hurt to look in the mirror. It was sorrowful time, a contemplative pit of disgust and shame. A time when the choices I’d made with my own free will caused me to trip and fall, the long way down.

Some of you know bits of my story. The pre-Me was a girl who’d enjoy any excuse for good time. Drinking was my desired gateway to fun. Oh, it was all in good spirit, I told myself. Most of the time (but not always) I was able to juggle the drink and the façade of self-control pretty darn good. Just a carefree girl with a forecast for fun, I told myself.

But the untold truth was like bubbling magma. What many did not know is that the beer swallowed cold was feeding a monster. A monster of generational alcoholism, a monster with haughty eyes and a lying tongue.

Oh, in those early years the monster’s voice was so affirming. It’d tell me such grand things about myself. It’d tell me how beautiful I was and how deserving I was of ANYTHING and EVERYTHING I wanted. I only needed to relentlessly pursue and I could have it all – the whole world, yes! As the consummation ensued, the voice would coil itself around my spirit and make me feel like a twelve story building.

Come morning, I hated that damn monster. And myself.

True enough, as the years carried on I began to chase after another baby Love. It was the heart of God. As I sought, I learned. Until oh-so-softly another voice began to emerge. This Gentle one, it wasn’t pushy. Heck, though, it spoke truth to me that sometimes stung.

“You are my ambassador,” the Gentle voice would say. “This (drink) is not good for you. When will you let it go?” The question always circled like a white dove returning home, into the palm of my hand. It was always up to me as to what I’d do with it.

Even still, despite the Gentle voice and despite my personal academy of seeking, from time to time I’d feed that monster. Without fail it pushed and bullied its way into chambers of my heart, attempting to conquer its foe, the Spirit of God.

I discovered that the monster had an uncontrollable appetite to devour the other Living occupant of my heart. And so it began, this epic battle for dominance. Back and forth like a sword-drawn Tarzan swinging from a vine. Back and forth, with each pass the Spirit hacked away at the choking weed – monster. Back and forth, with each pass the monster attempting to spew poisonous lies.

“For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. “ – Galatians 5: 17

It takes time; the sanctification, the cleansing, the killing of monsters. The death of it all was a process. The finality, grotesque. The most severe pain I’ve ever felt in my whole life. The grief – a dark tomb. For me, this self-death of drinking was my plummet into the dungeon of self-hatred.

Thanks be to God who rescued me from the pit with His right hand. Though that place was dark, the Voice was with me saying things like,

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness and into his wonderful light.” -1Peter 2:9

You see, when the monster died, my body felt like ash. But let me tell you, in that good-long-hard-season the Lord God made me whole again, this time, into a new creation. Yes, He did that. I can’t believe it’s been nearly eight years since He destroyed that monster within but He did, and I’ve never known such freedom. Praise be!

And do you know what? He can do that for you too. You’re never beyond His reach. Never. I believe that some of you have been living under the monster’s thumb for far too long. You’re tired. You’re lying in the pit of self-hatred, perhaps.

Dear brother or sister, listen, God’s unfailing love for you is so vast that there is nothing you can do (or nothing you’ve done) that can remove this Love. All you need to “do” is turn your head, look to Him, repent, and let Him lead you into a new (better) life. No regrets.

Amen.

Crossing the Bridge of the Great Racial Divide

June 26, 2015 by Rachel Britz Leave a Comment

I met a black man last week. He’s on the construction team working to replace the bridge along this Colorado ranch road.

Initially ours was a simple conversation. He was doing his thing, on his side of the road. I was doing my own thing, on the opposite side. Our paths crossed in a warm greeting, then he inquired. He asked me about the ranch, our work. And so this door opened. I shared with him our summer adventure story, telling him about our Minnesota roots and how we’re spending a few months up here in high country. Then, it was my turn to ask about his work, his family. And so it went. It was simple, really.

Then Charleston.

I don’t know about you but this, this latest evil has broken my spirit. The same leather-cracked spirit that feels overwhelmed by the whiplash of racial explosions rippling across our nation over the years.

It’s cause to stop and ask, “What is going on here?” It’s cause for me, a white woman, living in a predominately white community, to wake up. It’s cause to pay attention because whenever the earth begins to shake there is a battle to behold.

Though sin and injustices appear to be our ruin I still believe God is at work, doing something big in the hearts of men who will pause long enough to seek His heart, His plan for all peoples living in this great nation.

This post is a long time coming. I’ve been praying, reading a lot and really just trying to “consider” how the Lord wants to use His people in this battle.

Today’s message is simple;

we must be willing to cross the bridge.

Jesus did it. Consider the story of the woman at the well {John 4}. He busted through cultural barriers to demonstrate love and truth, regardless of the social awkwardness.

Question to consider: Are people outside your race or culture a part of your routine comings and goings?

If the answer is an undeniable No, then maybe it’s time to consider crossing the great divide.

Two things to consider:

The bridge is already built. If you are a believer in Christ, take heart, the heavy foundational work is finished. The bridge to reconciliation was established when God chose to establish peace with sinful man through the sacrificial death of Jesus. Because of this we have been reconciled to God {2 Corinthians 5:17-18}. Jesus is the bridge of peace, love and forgiveness.

“Reconcilers go beyond the point of peaceful coexistence and build bridges by embracing diversity as a lifestyle value…” -David Ireland

Start walking. It’s one thing to talk-the-talk and another to walk-the-walk. The journey from one side of the road to another in an attempt to bridge the diversity gap in your life, home or family may feel a bit awkward at first. It’s in those feelings of displacement that our senses become heightened. We see, hear, and feel differently when we leave our comfort zones. Take heart, this is normal.

Ideas to consider: Okay, all right…so you wanna start walking. But wait, how? I mean, what exactly do I do?

Initiate a conversation
Bake and deliver some cookies
Invite to your home for a cookout or to share a meal
Make a coffee / hot chocolate date

Even though the bridge is built, maintenance is still required. Of coarse, we can choose not to maintain it…but what are the consequences for doing so? Maintaining cross-racial / cross-cultural relationships is healthy. It’s what keeps the foundation strong. Keep in mind bridge work takes time and we can’t expect everything to always go as planned. But if our hearts and minds are focused on cultivating a love and understanding for all nationalities and races then we will become an eager people to move.

“Until you take ownership of the global problem of racial justice and bridge building, you will not be motivated to leave your comfort zone…When we break through barriers, whether cultural or racial, it will help others do the same. This will ultimately lead to global change.” – David Ireland

The literal exchange I shared last week with a construction man working on the bridge was a simple demonstration of taking the first step. If your heart is being nudged, I pray you’d have courage and love in the name of Jesus with total abandon.

Looking to dive deeper? I’d recommend reading the book Be the Bridge by Latasha Morrison.

Big Announcement: I’m Expecting!

May 11, 2015 by Rachel Britz 8 Comments

You heard it right, I’m expecting! The anticipated arrival of my first baby, the highly anticipated novel is within sight.

It’s taken nearly three years. Some of you may recall the first announcement about Me and My Big Fat Secret. Many of you have followed me along this perilous journey and offered heaps of encouragement to keep going. Thank you, dear friends!

So here’s the latest.

In January, I signed a publishing contract with Ambassador International, a small Christian publishing house out of South Carolina and Belfast, Ireland. Cool, huh?

Cool because my story is a historical, rooting itself in Ireland.

In March, I submitted my entire manuscript to the publisher and was introduced to my editor. Whom I’m over the moon excited to be working with. If you remember the post way-back-when about my future editor, the one I’ve been praying for since the very beginning, well, she’s the one I’ve admired and respected over the years. I got her! I feel so blessed.

And now, I’ve officially entered the death by details phase. Re-writes and edits galore. The light is beginning to emerge from the cave as I can officially announce, the baby will be arriving this coming fall! Yippee.

There’s so much I want to say about how much I’ve learned and grown as a writer and as a human. Seriously. But my brain hurts to think anymore so let’s just take a pause and celebrate, shall we? So, if I’m absent from this space for a little while longer, now you’ll know why. 🙂

More fun announcements about the book to come!