I wear a few hats in what makes me “me.” One I don’t write too much about but takes a big chunk of my life is an intercessor. Someone who prayerfully stands in the gap. Prayer Warrior. I’m always “on duty,” getting nudges during conversations, sermons, during a deep sleep, or in the shower. But the intensity comes in seasons, often like a pregnancy.
The hardest part for me is the transition phase. In childbirth this is when you verbally say you can’t go on. It’s a sign you are almost there. The baby book told me 20-45 minutes. My transition was 3 hours, ending only because of an emergency c-section. But when that baby was in my arms, it was worth it.
When my prayer life hits that transition phase, I often don’t even know what I’m praying for. I have an onslaught of tears I can’t explain and they come from a place so deep inside me it wears me out. Sometimes I have prayers that are groanings, an exhaustive push in the heavenlies, I suppose. I feel like I’m on the front lines, so mentally my stance is as a warrior.
I make sure I’m prayed up and wearing spiritual armor as described in Ephesians 6. All dressed up, so to speak, I’m ready to run out the door and go get the defeated one in a way that I envision like a scene out of Braveheart.
And you know what?
That isn’t part of this intercessor’s job.
Years ago I was told that all God was asking me to do was sit on the couch and let Jesus fight the battle for me. When He returned at the end of the day, He wanted to lay down on the couch with me and share His day. It transformed my thinking even though I still fight the temptation to run ahead of Him.
This time around, I did as always. There have been the pressing in times, proclaiming promises.Lifting up the weary. Then the tears. Weeping I couldn’t explain or understand, followed by prayers I don’t even know what I said. I just surrendered to the moment. But before long I was suiting up (which is good, again, Ephesians 6,) but I was racing out the door and ready to outpass my Lord. Picture the jogging game on Wii when you pass the leader who keeps you on pace. Yep, that was me.
Imagine my surprise when in my reading, which always increases during those transition seasons, I got my marching orders. In an article I read and the words jumped off the page. Basically, march yourself back and let the Lord work this through.
No front line battles where I boldly proclaim or decree.
Just a quiet, in my spirit, without fanfare, agree with the Holy Spirit.
Agree in His plan. And let Him execute it. Even when I don’t know the plan.
That directive has been at me for a few weeks now and it blows me away every time. Because I feel like I should be charging at the enemy through prayer. Instead, my focus is re directed back to my Commander, not the opposition. I’m agreeing, and trying to let go.
I can’t promise I’m going to be perfect at it, I guarantee I won’t be.
But if you wear a hat called prayer warrior, and if you think you’re in the transition phase and about to go gangbusters on the devil, take a step back and see if perhaps your marching orders are simply to agree.
And to God be the glory.