Prayer Part 1: Life of Worship Series

 Our pastor, Ron Bontrager, has a passion for developing a culture of prayer in our church. For the next two weeks, we wanted to share some of his practical points, as seen through the Lord's Prayer, that might help you grow in the worship that is your daily life. Prayer is an integral, yet often confused and misunderstood part of a worshipper's daily walk. We hope this simple model might shed some light on it. Part 1: Praise "Our Father in heaven, may Your Name be honored." Praise is the first protocol of heaven. Psalms 100:4 says "Enter his gates with thanksgiving; go into his courts with praise." Our approach to the Father is critical. Hearts full of gratitude and lives lived out in Thanksgiving will spill over into continuous praise. Don’t save your praise for the Sunday morning gathering. Make it the theme of your daily existence.
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Zoom Out

 Technology today is amazing (and more than a little addictive). My cell phone now not only gives me access to human-to-human dialog, but also opens the floodgate for the latest news, stock quotes, sports stories, scores & stats, Facebook friend connections, and one of my buddy Nathan’s most favorite inventions: maps (he has issues you should ask him about sometime). Driving maps, satellite maps, weather maps. Maps that show direction, time zones, topography, even impending weather. One of the greatest features of these online map applications is a little function called “zoom.” With the click of a button, I can move my view from the perspective of a geosynchronous satellite hovering 1,200 miles above the earth’s service right down to Google’s street view, nearly making out the details of each brick on my house (try it - it’s kinda creepy, and the subject of a few pending lawsuits).
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Messing With My Identity

 In the summer of 2000 I went through one of the hardest 3 month periods of my life. To make a long story short, I was a young businessman with a great job, the beginnings of a beautiful family, and a cut and dry, picture perfect future ahead of me. Text book. That is, until God stole my water colors and started painting His own picture of my life (don’t you just love when He does that?). For three solid months God did a complete DNA transplant in my spirit. It started slowly but became a complete tidal wave of fear, anger, nausea, delirium, sleeplessness, and countless other emotions that often cause you to stare at the over the counter med shelf at the local pharmacy. You see, God wasn’t playing fair (and really, is it ever a fair fight with the Creator of the universe?). He was changing the way I saw myself and it was painful. He was messing with my identity.
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A Stirring That Persists

 Doesn’t matter your age, your gender, your race or your station in life. Chances are you’ve got it…and some of you have got it bad. I should know. I’m wrecked with it. For the last few days, our family rules regarding television viewing have been chucked out the window. NBC’s coverage of the Olympics has us glued to the set, nervously eating popcorn and cheering for whoever is representing the red, white and blue. I would imagine the Beijing spectacular has captured your attention too, as names like Michael Phelps, Usain Bolt and Shawn Johnson enter our vernacular for the next few months. These athletes not only provide high drama and unity in their perspective countries but they also give all of us a chance to expand the horizon of possibilities as we join in their pursuit of being an Olympic champion.
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Becoming

 School started today – the laziness and freedom of summer regretfully giving way to evenings of homework and defined schedules. It’s a blessing and a curse for parents and kids alike, but this morning came whether we were ready for it or not. A surprise to my wife and me, apparently our 6 year old was not. All summer we’ve been anticipating the start of first grade. Her older sister had so bravely led the way (a stunning, young fourth grader now) and today marked the day of Anna’s first step into el-ed adulthood (OK…you gotta think like a 6 year old). She was up early, dawning her new purple polo shirt and khaki shorts, packing her brand new pencil box and crayons into a never-before-used backpack (that matched her shirt and shoes, of course), and joyfully bounding into the backseat of the mini-van for our inaugural drive to school.
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