Open Windows Of Heaven

He Was ThereIsaiah 43:2

For the reader who has a season they describe out loud as the time God was absent, this makes one claim only: He was in it, and it refuses to explain what happened or what it was for.

The Season After The Accident

Messages

Eleven Years Of Failing At Five In The Morning

Asking Permission Without Noticing

The Same Written Prayer For Seven Years

My Quiet House Was Never The Right Atmosphere

The One Who Always Heard

Two Years On A Platform

You Pray Like Somebody Hoping To Be Let In

The Season After The Accident

I Read The Promise And Felt Nothing

Praying With My Hat In My Hand

The Thing I Would Deny Out Loud

The Year I Led Worship And Heard Nothing

The Reconciliation I Wrote Off

The Year I Did Everything Right

Tolerated And Never Delighted In

None Of It Was What I Was Hungry For

I Stopped Praying Out Loud

It Was Never The Thing I Was Asking For

Only Ever What I Still Need To Fix

I Stopped Praying About My Sister

Three Years Of Praying For One Person's Healing

The Preparation I Built Myself

The Right State I Never Arrived At

Celebrated In Public, Certain In Private

Say It In Plain Words

The Sentence I Have Wanted Since I Was Nine

Getting Myself Into A Fit State First

I Know The Doctrine And Have Never Felt It

The Worst Week Of My Life

I Apologize Before I Say Anything

Telling Everybody Else To Expect Something

Useful Without Being Liked

I Could Not Manufacture Hunger

The Four In The Morning Prayer

I Was Sure I Did Not Have The Gift

The Long Gray Autumn

Everything I Can Name Sounds Like A Shopping List

My Grandmother's Prayers Counted And Mine Did Not

The Winter I Stopped Going

Auditioning With Disciplines Nobody Asked For

Five Years Of Asking God About My Work

I Do Not Know What Rain Would Look Like

This Part Of My Life Is Simply How It Is

I Could Not Describe Wanting Him

The List I Never Got To The End Of

I Forgot Who I Was Asking

The Year I Kept The Checklist Perfectly

If The Sky Opened Tonight

The Eighteen Months After We Moved

Earned Again Every Morning

Preaching Breakthrough With One Closed File

The Rule I Made About Doubt

Explaining Myself Before I Ask

Going Through The Motions Of Asking

Nothing Left To Praise With

I Wanted The Power I Saw As A Child

I Cannot Name The Day I Stopped

A Fixed Situation And Nothing Else

Two Years Of The Same Prayer On The School Run

Waiting At The Edge Of The Room

Six Years On The Same Stretch Of Road

I Wanted Him To Send Something

The Year I Have Never Named

The Prayer My Grandmother Handed Me

Auditioning For A Part You Already Have

Praying As If I Am Interrupting

Every Open Heaven Came With A Condition

Reciting My Credentials First

The Prayer That Goes As Far As The Ceiling

The Week I Decided I Would Never Be Clean Enough

Working For It The Way I Worked For His

I Never Sit Down In Prayer

The Year You Wrote Off

Measuring By How The Week Went

Knocking At A Door I Am Not On The List For

My Father Never Said It

I Could Not Name One Thing About Him

You Stopped Expecting And Never Told Anyone