(WW) Ron L. Deal Talks 2nd Marriages and Blended Families –
The Wayfarer Weekend Podcast welcomes Ron L. Deal for a conversation about second marriages and blended families. Ron is a best-selling author and popular speaker focused on helping people navigate the relational minefields and unique challenges that come with trying to overcome past failures and unite blended family systems.
Ron and his wife, Nan, reside in Arkansas.
Ron L. Deal
Please visit rondeal.org for all of Ron’s books and resources.
Wendy and I returned last night from our “spring break” in which we spent a long weekend getting our Playhouse at the lake opened up and ready for the coming summer. Our friends joined us for a weekend of hard work, a long task list of chores, along with good meals and time together in the evenings. We arrived home last night with aching muscles and weary bones, but our souls were overflowing.
Our place at the lake was not something which Wendy and I long-planned or even desired. Looking back, it was one of those things on life’s road that just sort of unexpectedly falls into place and you realize in retrospect that it was meant to be part of the story in ways you could never have foreseen. We have had our ups and downs with it. In fact, on more than one occasion we’ve felt strongly that it wasn’t what we desired at all. Yet in each case, we were given the assurance that we were to stay the course.
This past weekend, I had a lot of time to contemplate as I spent a number of hours sequestered in the isolation of my earplugs and the din of the power washer as I sprayed siding, windows, trim, decks, docks, and sidewalks. I have thoroughly enjoyed all the blessings that have come with the place over the years. It’s not, however, about the thing or the things that come with it. What I really treasure about the place has no worldly value. I can’t buy family or friendship. I can’t use legacy or cherished memories as collateral. Purpose, quiet, rest, laughter, peace, relationship, intimacy, conversation, and healing will never appear on an appraisal when it’s time for this chapter of the story to end. Yet, that’s what I value so much that our “spring break” was spent working our butts off.
Today’s chapter, Psalm 135, is an ancient Hebrew song that was sung as part of the temple liturgy. It’s a recounting of history and a celebration of God. As I came to the verse that says, “The idols of the nations are silver and gold,” it resonated with power-washing ruminations. There are lots of things that I observe are valued in this world, especially in a place like the lake. They are the things of silver and gold, made with human hands. And, that prompts in me continuous soul-searching.
On the drive home last night, Wendy and I spent time talking through the various intimate conversations we enjoyed with our friends this past weekend as we worked together, ate together, and rested together. Wendy talked about the unique struggles each person and each couple are going through on our respective way-points on Life’s road. We prayed together for our friends. I treasure these moments, conversations, meals, rest, and friends. Not silver and gold, but spirit, flesh, and relationship.
In the quiet this morning, I return to the routine. I find myself thankful for my many blessings which include a place on the lake (that requires up-keep and work weekends) and really good companions on life’s journey with whom to share both the labor and leisure. And, I find myself praying to always treasure those things that have no tangible value in this world.
This month marks our sixth anniversary here at “Vander Well Manor,” the house Wendy and I built here in the most awesome little town in America. Wendy, working alongside our contractor, did a lot of the designing of our house and she did an amazing job.
One of the rooms that got special attention in the design of our home was the dining room. In fact, the original designs had the dining room that you usually see in homes today. It was a tight little space large enough to comfortably fit a standard table for six. We quickly decided that this just wouldn’t do. We ended up creating an entire addition to the house just for our dining room in which we placed a table that comfortably seats eight (but we’ve squeezed 10-12 people around it).
One of our good friends once commented, “You’re the only people I know who actually use your dining room on a regular basis.” Meals are an important piece of life to Wendy and me. It’s where we gather with family and friends. It’s where conversation flows like wine and where community is formed. Even when our girls were teenagers and lives were hectic, we attempted to have at least one evening meal per week in which we were sitting together at the table and engaged one another. Now, the nest is empty, but even Wendy and I frequent the dining room, just the two of us.
Today’s chapter, Psalm 128, is akin to yesterday’s. It’s hard not to understand why the editors who compiled this collection of ancient Hebrew song lyrics put the two side-by-side in the compilation. They are both celebrations of hearth, home, and family.
The words “your children will be like olive shoots around your table” leaped off the page when I read it. Olive shoots were a common metaphor to the ancient Hebrews. An olive shoot is young, green, full of life and possibility. Olive trees have amazingly long and productive lives. One olive tree in Portugal is estimated to be 3,350 years old. That means it was already over 1,000 years old when the writer of Psalm 128 penned the lyrics of today’s chapter. When I visited the olive “garden” outside of Jerusalem where tradition says Jesus went to pray the night of His arrest, I learned that there were trees in that garden today that were alive and present that fateful night.
Wendy and I were so blessed this past Christmas to have the kids and Milo home. As always, meals were an important part of the family agenda from cocktails through dessert. Christmas Day began with a brunch feast and continued in the afternoon with the most amazing charcuterie spread that Wendy and the girls worked together to create. I cherish the experience, and the Life present and celebrated around the table. As the Hebrews say as a toast, “L’chaim!” (“to life!”).
In the quiet this morning, I remember a former colleague who told me that their family ate the entire traditional Thanksgiving feast in ten minutes. She then swore that she wasn’t exaggerating. The family gathered, ate, and were done at the table in ten minutes. I’m not criticizing. That might just be how they roll, and that’s cool for them. As for me, and my house, we’re going to be at the table a little longer than that, enjoying good food, good drink, good conversations, and the good company of one another which happens far too seldom.
But as for me, I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliverer; Lord, do not delay. Psalm 70:5 (NIV)
There is an urgency that comes with being at the end of one’s rope. I was recording a Wayfarer Weekend podcast with a guest earlier this week (you’ll find out who in a few weeks), and she described hitting an “end of my rope” moment in life. Her journal entries from that time, she said, were a simple, repeated refrain of “Help me!”
Today’s chapter, Psalm 70, stands out for its brevity. In fact, it’s basically a repeat of verses 13-17 of Psalm 40. It’s as if David’s circumstances are so pressing, his present pain is so acute, that he can’t find the spiritual, mental, or creative resources to come up with anything lengthy or original. He’s having an “end of my rope” moment and simply blurts out a repeat of a refrain he made before:
“God?! Quick! Help me!”
Along my journey, I’ve occasionally been asked by others how to pray. It’s kind of like asking, “How do I have a conversation?” There’s no real magic to it. It’s just having a conversation with God which, as with any relationship, can be very different one moment then it is the next. Circumstance usually dictates the content, tone, length, pace, and intensity of the conversation.
There a certain waypoints on the road of life when all I can muster is a cry for help.
My friend, Matthew, likes to say that “everyone is having a conversation with life.” He describes it as an “inner conversation with your center as external circumstances beg for a response.”
Along my journey, I’ve come to believe that the quality and depth of that inner conversation is critical to my progress in Life, health, growth, and relationships. I’ve also observed along the way those who appear to choose not to engage in that conversation. Maybe they don’t know how to have that conversation. Maybe they really don’t want to have that conversation. The result, from my perspective, are lives that seem to run on uninterrupted cycles of appetite, impulse, reaction, and habit. Tragedy and/or life becoming unmanageable become the only way a conversation with Life might possibly get jump-started.
This morning I find my heart and mind still mulling over yesterday’s post and thoughts of introspection. I’ve always been a bit introspective, but I know many who aren’t and who don’t even know where to begin. Many years ago, when I worked with young people, I always tried to teach them both to be introspective and how to have conversations about those inner conversations. The lessons I learned I now apply in my relationships with clients, team members, friends, neighbors, and even strangers.
Typically, I would start with a simple ice-breaker type of question:
Good/Bad: Name one good thing and one bad thing from your week?
Where have you been? Where are you now? Where are you going?
What’s your biggest pet peeve?
If you had five other lives to live, what would you do/be?
Then, I would listen to the young person’s answer and begin what I call “moving upstream.” Moving upstream is really the process of introspection, but I find that one typically learns how to do it first by being led by a parent, friend, counselor, teacher, therapist, pastor, or mentor.
You know how the mouth of a river pouring into the ocean is usually really wide (and usually not very picturesque)? That is what a general answer to a general question is. That’s where introspection begins. Conversations with Life, for those who’ve never really had one, begin with a simple ice-breaker with yourself. But the really good stuff, the scenic views, the waterfalls, the natural springs, the crystal-clear mountain stream can only be reached by paddling upriver, then up a tributary, through a few locks and dams, then up another tributary, and another, and another. There will be a portage around a rapid or three, maybe some smaller dams, and then up yet another small stream. You keep moving upstream towards the Source.
Here’s how it sounded with one of the kids in my youth group as I tried to guide them upstream:
Me: “Name one bad thing from your week.”
Them: “Um, (young people always begin with “Um”) My bad thing this week was getting grounded by my parents.“
Grounded? Okay, there’s a story there. Let’s move a little further upstream and find out what it is.
Me: “Ouch! How long are you grounded?”
Them: “Two weeks.”
I keep paddling. With each answer, I move a little farther upstream by taking what’s given to me and exploring further.
Me: “Two weeks!? That sucks! What on earth earned you two weeks?”
Them: (Head is down. Eyes stare at the floor. Shoulders shrug.)
We’ve reached our first dam. Sometimes the lock to a conversational dam is humor.
Me: “What did you do? MURDER SOMEBODY?“
Them: (laughs) “No.”
Me: “ROB A BANK?!“
Me: “Well, being late for curfew isn’t a two week offense. So it’s got to be somewhere between getting in late and murder.”
Silence. Silence is okay, even when it’s painful. Silence is a necessary part of introspection. As my friend Matthew says, “Let silence to the heavy lifting.”
More silence. Finally…
Them: (Mumbling after a sigh) “I got caught smoking weed.”
Hey! There’s a new tributary! Let’s move up that stream and see where it leads.
Hopefully, you get where I’m going. Keep asking questions. Look at the answer to those questions and let them lead you to the next question. The strings of questions and answers are the conversation with Life. The better I’ve become at having those inner conversations about my external circumstances, the further I get towards the Source and the more rewarding the journey has become.
In the quiet this morning, I’m whispering a prayer of thanks for the many friends, family members, teachers, professors, mentors, pastors, and therapists who helped guide me upstream at different stages of my journey. They taught me how to be introspective. Over the course of 50 plus years, my conversations with them taught me how to have a conversation with myself, with Life. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.
Hope your own conversations with Life are leading you to good places, even when the portages, paddling, and dams are a pain.
Have a great day, my friend. Thank you for reading along with me on this journey.
When caring for someone with Alzheimers or Dementia, you learn that conversation is a lot like an improv exercise in theatre. You can’t control what the other person is going to say or do. You simply say “Yes, and” then go with the flow no matter where the absurdity takes you. As a care giver you can let it bother you, or you can choose in to the amusement.
Our daughter, Taylor, is working and writing for a company in the UK that provides web applications that help Dementia and Alzheimer’s care facilities called Storii Care. The following is a post she wrote on their blog that I’m reposting here with her permission.
Confessions of a Carer: Finding Amusement in Absurd Conversations
I used to work as a CNA in the dementia unit of a long-term care home, located in a small town in Iowa.
I haven’t worked as a nurses aide for many years now, but have continued to be around people with dementia both personally and professionally.
If you are reading this, you probably already know that having a conversation with someone in the later stages of dementia can be completely nonsensical. In the moment, inside their mind, they are often in a completely different time and place than you.
The fact that I sort of delight in having these wacky conversations feels like something I must confess (as opposed to simply telling you), because I am fully aware that the confusion and distress that someone may be experiencing in their mind is real and concerning. It is sad when someone endures the loss of their memory and grows increasingly disoriented from reality. There is no doubt about that. There is a time and place for indulging in illogical chat and there is a time and place for redirecting. One has to know when to make that judgement call.
But, why not meet people where they’re at? That’s all I’m saying. It can be refreshing. Even fun. Especially if you have a flair for the dramatic arts.
Case in point…one time working as a CNA, I passed by the TV room where Lois beckoned me to come over.
When will the valet bring the car around?
The valet? You see, this is like being in an improv scene where the situation and your identity is provided only through prompts.
You car should be here shortly, ma’am.
Oh, wonderful. Thank you, sweetie. And the luggage? Will they bring the luggage down?
Ah, it appears we are in a hotel.
Yes, I will make sure every item is loaded in the vehicle for you.
Even the two horse saddles?
Horse saddles?! Alright, then…
It might be a tight squeeze, but we will do our best to make it fit.
Yes, Gerald spent a pretty penny on those, you know.
Oh, that Gerald. Has to have the best of them, doesn’t he?
She touches my arm.
Isn’t that the truth?
Then Lois chuckled and turned toward the TV, seemingly happy to know everything was in order and would be just fine.
Another time, a different resident approached me.
Excuse me, could I ask you something?
Sure, what can I do for you?
She brings my head down so that she can whisper in my ear.
Do you happen to have any sanitary pads? You see, I’ve just gotten my period.
There is absolutely no way this 82 year-old woman is still getting a visit from Aunt Flo, but I go along with it.
Don’t worry, dear. I have some in my purse. I’ll just go grab you one. Would you like some ibuprofen as well?
She nods and winks at me, mouthing a silent “thank you”. Sisterhood.
I come back with a pad and she stuffs it in her cardigan pocket with the stealth of covert ops mission.
Later, when I went into her room to start the bedtime routine, I found the pad open and stuck to her nightstand with an oatmeal raisin cookie lying on top. Well, you know, I’m glad she found a use for it.
A New Perspective
Sure, these exchanges are illogical. However, at the time, I was invited into someone else’s present reality. Even though it involved being a bit off the wall on my part, the result is that these women stopped worrying. Their demeanors shifted. All was right once again. Who wouldn’t find a little joy in that?
Building up life stories is such a large part of what care staff focus on in senior homes. When the opportunity presents itself, perhaps you can be part of a resident’s life story by acting out a scene with them. You both might like it.
AuthorBio: Taylor Vander Well heads up Best Practice + Communication for StoriiCare. She lives in Edinburgh, UK with her partner and son.
It’s been a week since my last post and I’ve been on a bit of an unexpected hiatus. Last Thursday Wendy and I arose at 3:30 a.m. to catch an early flight to southern California for a long holiday weekend. We spent Thursday and Friday in La Jolla where we had a chance to spend some get-to-know-you time with our company’s newest Board member and his lovely wife.
Winter seems determined to hold its icy grip on Iowa, and so it was lovely to enjoy the warmth of the California sun. After checking into our room at the La Valencia, we got to stroll along the ocean in La Jolla and watch the seals and sea lions sunning themselves on the rocks. We enjoyed some amazing gelato at Bobboi Natural Gelato as we walked, and ended up at the back deck of We Olive & Wine Bar where we enjoyed a glass of wine and a charcuterie plate as we looked out over the ocean. Tony and Joy joined us for a few minutes to make introduction and secure the plans for the evening.
We dined Thursday evening at Catania where we sat on the deck and watched the sun set over the ocean as we dined. Thoroughly enjoyed our meal and conversation with Tony and Joy. After dinner we strolled through some of the galleries in La Jolla. One of the galleries was dedicated to the work of Dr. Seuss, who lived and worked in La Jolla. We learned that La Jolla was the inspiration for Dr. Seuss’ “Hooville.” There was also an amazing National Geographic gallery in which their award winning photography was transformed into amazing works of art. By the time we got to bed it had been a 20 hour day.
On Friday morning we had breakfast at Starbucks before rejoining Tony and Joy. Joy and Wendy spent most of the morning in a local book store while Tony and I talked business in his office. We gathered back together late in the morning spent some time chatting on their rooftop deck before enjoying lunch together at George’s at the Cove. After lunch Wendy and I checked out and headed to Palm Springs.
Traffic was completely nuts, so Google Maps took us on a circuitous route through the backroads of So Cal. What would have been a 2.5 hour trip without traffic ended up being about 3.5 hours and we arrived in Palm Springs about 5:30. We dropped off our rental at the airport where friends Kevin and Linda picked us up. We dropped our bags off at their place and then headed to the Tropicale for dinner. We adjourned back to Kevin and Linda’s for a nightcap and cigar on their deck.
On Saturday we enjoyed a lazy morning with Kevin and Linda. Kevin and I did a read through of Freud’s Last Session by the pool. We headed to Maracas for lunch. We’d been there last year and fell in love with their queso with chorizo. We’d really looked forward to having it again and weren’t disappointed. Wendy and went to the hat shop and bought new chapeaus (I think that’s going to be a tradition!). We napped in the afternoon and then got ready for dinner at Il Giardino. We strolled up the strip after dinner and grabbed Ben and Jerry’s for dessert before retiring back to Kevin and Linda’s for the requisite conversation and night cap on their deck.
We were up early on Sunday and spent a long Easter Sunday flying back to Iowa.
It was a wonderful weekend, though I’m learning that age is catching up with me. The long days and short nights took more of a toll than I expected. It’s taken a few days of extra sleep to get caught back up and my morning quiet time and chapter-a-day routine has been sacrificed. Hoping to get back into the normal routine starting tomorrow!
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…. Isaiah 61:1-2a (NIV)
I love “If” questions and discussion starters. For years our family used them around the table to kick-start dinner conversations…
If you could have dinner with three people from history, who would you choose?
If you were only allowed one song to sing for the rest of your life, what would it be?
If you had the power to eliminate one illness from the world, which would you eliminate?
I love “If” questions because the answers can vary so greatly from person to person, and those answers allow you to learn new things about even the closest of friends and relatives.
Having journeyed through God’s Message for many years, it is impossible to read today’s chapter and not connect it immediately to Jesus. Because the record of Jesus’ teaching indicates that He chose this passage for His inaugural sermon in His own home synagogue:
Jesus went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read,and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him.He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Luke 4:16-20 (NIV)
“So, Jesus,” I imagine myself saying to the young carpenter from Nazareth as we sit at the table with a glass of wine and an appetizer of freshly made pita bread and hummus. “If you could choose one passage from all of scripture to epitomize your life, what would you choose?”
I don’t have to wonder what He would say, because I know of all the passages He could have chosen for that message in the Nazareth Synagogue, Jesus chose this passage from Isaiah. This was His mission statement. This was His stake in the ground. He didn’t state it as a desire, or a hope, or a goal. He declared it an indisputable fact. Jesus starts His message with Isaiah’s prophetic, messianic proclamation and then begins His sermon with: “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”
Many people think of Jesus as a nice teacher who was eventually deified by His followers. Others think of Jesus as a kind of confused mystic who said a lot of amazing things, but might have been a little deluded. I don’t find anything confused in Jesus first recorded sermon. It was a shot across the spiritual bow. It was declarative. So much so, in fact, that it created a violent reaction among His neighbors:
All the people in the synagogue were furious when they heard this.They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff.
This morning I’m reminded that Jesus didn’t stumble onto the scene. Jesus didn’t just happen to be at the right place and the right time so as to fall into this teaching gig. Jesus came wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger because, from the beginning, there was a purpose. It was there when Simeon broke into song at Jesus consecration. It was there when Jesus was twelve years old and confounded the elders of Israel with His words. Good news to the poor, healing for the broken, sight to the blind, freedom to the enslaved, this was the mission from day 1.
“So, Tom,” Jesus says to me over morning coffee in my office. “If you had one passage from all of God’s Message to epitomize your life, what would you choose?”
Wall Street Journal columnist, Ben Zimmer, writes a weekly piece in the newspaper’s weekend edition that explores a different word or phrase that has been in the news that week. It’s one of my favorite columns to read over coffee on Saturday mornings.
I have become increasingly fascinated with words as I’ve continued in my life journey. I’m fascinated with their origin, how they become part of our vocabulary, their meanings, and how we use them. I’m intrigued with how our society perceives words as positive or negative, good or bad, acceptable or not acceptable.
Wendy’s and my adventures in community theatre often take us into debates about words. Should we use a word that will likely offend our audience here in rural Iowa? Can we legally change the copyrighted work by using a different word? If we do have the actor use a different word, will it change the play’s character and how the audience perceives him or her? Why would that word offend the audience? Should we risk the offense and challenge our audience to consider their notions about vocabulary? They are challenging questions that prompt fascinating and equally challenging discussions.
Toward the end of today’s chapter God tells the Hebrews not “profane” His name. I was given a definition of the word profane by a professor in college that I’ve never forgotten: “to empty something of its meaning.” I can still remember the word picture as the professor stood in front of the class and mimed turning a cup over in his hand, emptying the contents of the imaginary vessel on the ground.
I’ve always found that an apt understanding of God’s zealous protection of His name. It’s really no different than we as human beings. We don’t like people making fun of our name. We don’t want our name mocked or “drug through the mud.” In Arthur Miller’s classic play, The Crucible, John Proctor tells the witch hunters in Salem to go ahead and kill him unjustly but then begs: “give me my name!”
Of course this opens a fascinating and challenging conversation about the name of God. As a child I was taught never to use the word “God” as in “Oh my god.” But, “god” is a impersonal noun that could refer to your generic pagan idol as it could refer to Yahweh (the name God gave Himself to Moses in Exodus 3). The name “Jesus” is much more specific and it packs all sorts of meaning and power. Jesus told His followers to do all sorts of things from prayers to exorcisms “in my name.” History records many signs and wonders that happened “in the name of Jesus.” If I then turn and use “Jesus” as an exclamation of disgust when the restaurant brought me the wrong order it certainly appears that I’ve taken something of spiritual power and authority, emptied it of its meaning, and used it for common swear word. I’ve profaned it.
This morning I’m once again thinking about words. It’s fun and challenging to debate the particulars of words and their usage. Despite the hairsplitting, it’s obvious that throughout God’s Message I’m reminded that words have power to heal, encourage, and build others up. They also have the power to sully, divide, tear down, and profane. I am reminded that the words we choose should be gracious, wise, and kind. May the words of my mouth always exemplify those basic guidelines.
Then the king said to me, “What do you request?” So I prayed to the God of heaven. Nehemiah 2:4 (NRSV)
When you have intimate, long-term relationships with others you find that communication takes a myriad of forms. Wendy and I are together almost all of the time. We live together, work from home together, serve in the community together, and spend most of our free time together. We have layers of communication:
Conversations about culture and world events over breakfast and the news.
Brief exchanges from the top of the 2nd floor landing to the bottom of the stairs on the main floor.
Text message exchanges.
Non-verbal body language cues.
Short notes left on stickies on the counter.
Emotional rants of aggravation.
Nuts and bolts planning and scheduling over calendars.
Cell phone conversations when one of us are running errands.
Long, intense personal conversations over drinks or a meal.
Pillow-talk as we retire for the night.
I have found that my conversations with God have similar diversity of communication. From long, structured, formal give and take to brief exchanges and casual conversations of spirit. There are blurted exclamations of anger, frustration, gratitude, or need. I quiet my heart and open the ears of my spirit to hear what God might have to say during my coffee with God each the morning. I sometimes pour out my heart to God in long, hand written letters. If prayer is simply communication with God, then each one of these mediums is a different, yet legitimate form of prayer used as needed based on the time and circumstance.
In today’s chapter we learn that Nehemiah served the Babylonian king, Artaxerxes, in his court. His heart heavy with the news of the destruction of his hometown Jerusalem’s destroyed walls, Nehemiah cannot help be send non-verbal cues regarding his mood. The king notices and asks him why he looks so depressed.
We cannot fathom today the pressure placed on servants in ancient royal courts like that of Artaxerxes. Kings and Queens held ultimate power and routinely took the mantel of diety upon themselves. Servants in a royal court were expected to always be in a good mood, always serve with joy, and to treat the royals as if they were gods who lived in a higher dimension of being than everyone else. Any slight, mistake, errant word or look could result in an immediate death penalty.
When King Artaxerxes notices the cloud of depression on Nehemiah’s face, his immediate reaction is fear. Nehemiah doesn’t know whether to answer truthfully, beg forgiveness, say “it’s nothing,” or make up some plausible story. One wrong word or move, a simple raising of the King’s ire, and Nehemiah’s a dead man. Nehemiah chooses to tell the truth about his depression over Jerusalem’s walls. Then, Artaxerxes raises the stakes even higher by asking, “What do you request?”
Nehemiah is now in an even more treacherous fix. Ask too much and the king could take it as arrogant insubordination. Blow off the request and it could be perceived as false humility and refusing to answer a direct question. But Nehemiah needs to answer the king and he needs to answer it quickly. What does Nehemiah do?
He throws up a prayer.
Nehemiah had no time for religious ritual. He couldn’t stop the moment to languish in conversation about this situation with God. He could ask the King to spare him a moment while he got on his knees and recited a psalm. Nehemiah threw up what I like to call a “popcorn prayer.”
Like a kernel of popcorn jumping up quickly in the heat to explode into bloom, popcorn prayers pop out of my spirit in a moment and last little more than a breath. Popcorn prayers often get uttered in heated situations. They acknowledge in an instant that God is always present, always listening, always open to listen in all of the diverse ways two beings in an intimate relationship communicate.
There are times for long conversation, and there are times for popcorn prayers. Both forms are legitimate methods of communicating with God. God answered Nehemiah’s popcorn prayer, and the desires of Nehemiah’s heart were about to miraculously be answered via a blurted prayer from Nehemiah’s spirit.
Today, as I quietly listen to what God might be saying to me through the chapter, I hear this: “Keep popping.”