Thy Will Be Done

I recently read a blog post written by a man named Jerry Hillyer.  The entry was titled, “An Expanded Prayer Vision.”  In it, Hillyer writes:

“It’s Time to confess and repent and fast and posture ourselves properly before a righteous and holy God. It’s time for the men of the Church, like Daniel, to search the Scripture and know and understand what God wants us to pray.  Enough prayers for better days and sunshine. Enough prayers that are meaningless and mundane. Let’s pray prayers that shake heaven so that heaven will shake us. Let’s get serious about prayer that announces to the Lord of Hosts: We Welcome Your Intervention.”

That article gave me a new perspective on prayer and intercession and “Thy will be done.”  It forced me to see my own prayer life in a cold and brutally honest light, and it left me feeling raw but refreshed . . . as if dead flesh had been scrubbed away so that true healing could begin.

In that light I discovered that my private prayers had become a sort of new age affirmation process where I repeated positive thoughts over and over in an effort to steer subconsciously toward some goal.  Corporate prayer often became a way to say things that I thought other people needed to hear.  I guess those aren’t terrible things, but when I saw my heart in the light of the truth, I saw that I had begun to accept belief and faith as powers unto themselves.

Hillyer’s article forced me to look down and see that I had strayed from the path. 

I suddenly realized that my prayers no longer relied on the living God; I had begun to believe that it was faith that moved the mountains.  In fact, it seemed sensible to think that the stronger the faith in a miracle, the more likely that a miracle would come.  If I told someone in prayer that they would be healed, then perhaps they would believe me and be healed.  If I told someone that God wanted to help them, then perhaps when the help came they would believe that it came from God.

I recently re-read the scriptures where Jesus taught us how to pray.  In Matthew 6:10 He said, “Thy Will Be Done.”  I had always struggled with that verse because I believed that saying those four words in prayer meant that I didn’t really believe God would give me what I asked for.  It was a sign of defeat.  I always thought I should say something bold, like “I claim this healing for my friend.”  I thought I needed to proclaim that my belief was stout and sturdy enough for God to grant my wish.  Praying “thy will be done” meant that my belief was wishy-washy.

After reading Hillyer’s blog entry, I began to see that praying “Thy Will Be Done” isn’t wishy-washy at all.  In fact it’s a frightening act of faith.

“Thy Will Be Done” is asking for the Consuming Fire to come and burn away everything that is not holy.  When we ask for healing with “Thy Will Be Done,” we are not just asking for God to fix the pipes, we are asking Him to reduce the house to cinders and then build it up again in His image.  In fact, before we pray “Thy Will Be Done” we need to count the cost, because we may lose some things in that fire that we never intended to give up.

In an instant, I realized that the “power” of faith was the same as proclaiming loudly that I am willing to jump into the fire.  Praying “Thy Will Be Done” means quietly diving into the flames.

In Matthew 17:20, Jesus told His disciples about the “power” of faith.  He said, “if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

In the past, I’d always interpreted that passage to mean that Faith was so potent that a tiny grain of it held enough power to move a mountain.  But I was wrong.  Jesus wasn’t saying that faith the size of a mustard seed was some great thing.  Just the opposite.

Jesus was saying that it’s God that moves the mountain.  He was teaching that God can use me mightily in spite of my tiny insignificant faith.  I just need to have that speck of trust in Him, and I need to let that trust make a real change in my life.

When I discovered that truth, I imagined myself praying before the awesome throne of God.  I could almost feel the fire of His glory thundering around me like a hurricane.  In my mind God picked me up, and in His fingers I looked like a trinket that He had rescued from the mud.  As I imagined Him holding me up for a closer look, I wondered if I would have the strength to say, “I claim this healing for my friend.”

Or would I beat my chest, ask for mercy, and say Thy Will Be Done.

Advertisement