a prayer run?

My schedule has been a little goofy lately, and I found myself facing the oncoming dusk this evening with an over-full head.  My brain has been swimming with details and meetings and the stuff that seems to pile up as life is lived.  I wanted to run–literally.  I needed to get out, to clear my head, to burn off a little steam.

My normal run takes me along a creek (which I love) but doesn’t offer the protection of sidewalks and streetlights.  Kim was worried that I’d get smacked by a car and wind up in the creek, so I opted to run our prayer route through campus.  I popped in my earbuds, dialed up a sermon from Mark Batterson, and hit the road.

I like to listen to sermons while I run.  If the preacher goes for about 45 minutes, that gives me time to run, cool down, and stretch while I listen to the entire sermon.  I’m in the middle of Batterson’s series about Legends, and tonight I listened to his sermon about Samuel.  I won’t preach the sermon to you, but here’s something that the Lord seemed to highlight for me.

They said to Samuel, “Do not stop crying out to the LORD our God for us, that he may rescue us from the hand of the Philistines.” Then Samuel took a suckling lamb and offered it up as a whole burnt offering to the LORD. He cried out to the LORD on Israel’s behalf, and the LORD answered him.  1 Samuel 7:8-9

As a general rule, most of my prayer time is pretty tame.  I’m consistent, but there’s a general straight-forwardness to my praying.  In fact, I’d say that my prayers are pretty bland overall.  I keep a prayer journal, and I’m praying for some pretty heavy and consequential things.

But I would hardly describe my prayer time as crying out to the Lord.

Crying is something that we tend to move away from, isn’t it?  Babies cry when they’re hungry or cold or sick or in need of a fresh diaper.  But we mature grown ups use words to express our wishes.  Crying is for babies, right?  Crying is desperate.  It draws attention.  It’s messy and embarrassing.  Crying isn’t cool.

But as I finished my run and prayed, letting my heart go to God, I found myself choking up, tears forming in my eyes.  It wasn’t expected.  It wasn’t planned.  I didn’t need a fresh diaper, either!  But something in me broke.  I brought my desperation to God, and he met me.

I’ve been praying for my family, for the church, for the pastors of the city, for the PSU campus…but tonight felt like a breakthrough for me.  I cried out to God–literally.  I don’t know what I looked like to the few other runners sharing the night with me, and I don’t really care.  I cried out to the Lord.

Psalm 120 holds this promise: I took my troubles to the Lord;I cried out to him, and he answered my prayer.

O God, let this be reality in my life!