Your Kingdom Come

My closet has evolved into my inner room: It has become the place where I fall on my face, sob my eyes out until I am utterly dehydrated, and scream senselessly at God.  It is the place where I plop down and sit in silence, listening for the voice that though rarely audible, is often crystal clear.  It is the place where I sing my lungs out, hitting shuffle in my brain, cycling through all the songs that I can think of that repeat that name of Jesus over and over.  It is the place where I bargain and plead for the lives of those I know who are sick, suffering, depressed, dying of eating disorders, heart failure, or broken hearts.  It is the place where I fall, at the end of my absolute last resource, begging for healing of the mind and body.  It is the place where I whisper barely discernible confessions of my selfishness, fear, jealousy, hatred, and brokenness.  It is the place where I acknowledge to God my doubts about life, Christianity, and healing.  My closet has become my battle closet, in which I see and hear the heart of God.

I remember the first day that I felt compelled to go to my closet.  I had stumbled upon Amanda Auer’s Instagram account.  Amanda’s husband, Josh, is a member of the Phil Wickam band.  Amanda and Josh have three little girls and an infant son.   I came upon Amanda’s instagram account by chance. Her Instagram is more of a mini-blog at this point than an instagram account.  One of her three-year-old daughters, Rowen, suddenly and unexpectedly was diagnosed with heart failure.  She is being supported by a Berlin heart at UCLA, and her mommy and daddy are desperate for a miracle.

Intercession for sweet Rowen has taken over social media by storm, and the Spirit of intercession for this remarkable child has wedged it’s way into the hearts of tens of thousands of individuals globally.  I just happened to find myself caught in the current on a Tuesday a few weeks ago.  I can’t tell you what happened in my heart as I looked at pictures of this child, vibrant and wholly alive two weeks prior, at that time lying lifeless and intubated in PICU at UCLA, labeled at that time the sickest child on the unit.  In an instant, she was my child, and I was hit with the urgency and the desperation for complete healing for this precious golden-locked, cherub-faced child.

I don’t remember walking to the closet.  I don’t remember hitting my knees.  I don’t remember when I started gut-wrenching sobbing,  crying out in human and spirit-language for this child whom I had suddenly enfolded into my heart.  I can only identify what came over me as the spirit of intercession.  And reading the stories of others who find themselves along for the ride on the Aurs’ journey of healing, I sense that I am not alone in this intensity and fervency of prayer.  I count it an unbelievable privilege to be part of this journey of prayer for little Rowen.

Something shifted in my heart that Tuesday a few weeks ago, and I can’t stop going to my closet of prayer:  For intercession, for worship, for simply sitting in the the presence of God, for confession and repentance, for clarity and wisdom.

Rowen remains in PICU at UCLA.  The Lord is working a miracle in her life in His time.  At this point, almost 60,000 souls are watching this family, particularly Amanda, depend daily on the grace and strength of God.  A week or two ago,  Amanda stated that she can only assume that God is setting them up for a miracle. 60,000 sets of eyes are on this broken-hearted child lying in a hospital bed in UCLA, supported by a Berlin heart, waiting for a heart transplant.  Her mommy says that the miracle is happening before her very eyes.  I am inclined to believe her.  I see it happening too.  I see it in Rowen’s eyes.  I feel the miracle in my own broken heart.

As one single individual, a single droplet of water who has found herself swept up into the living current of intercession started by a faithful mommy for this power-house-of-a-three-year-old,  I can testify that I have been changed.

The Kingdom is here, among us.

The Kingdom is lying in a PICU in LA, tangled up in wires, with a scar of bravery down the tender white skin stretched across a tiny chest.

The Kingdom is in the instagram posts of a surrendered momma, who holds the life of her child open handed before the Lord, declaring with a cracking voice, “Please, God, will you heal her? But not my will, by yours be done.”

The Kingdom shines through the cracks of the broken, in the lives of those who are willing to humble themselves before the loving heart of the Father.

The Kingdom is found in the tear-stained carpet of our inner rooms, in our walk-in-closets, our sacred spots where we strip ourselves of our brave facades and cry out in utter desperation to our Jehovah Rapha.

Lord, in your mercy, let your Kingdom come.

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4 thoughts on “Your Kingdom Come

  1. There is so much power in the words that you have written. They remind me that even though I pray a lot throughout my day that I need to get physically on my knees more often.

    1. Thank you! Yes! It has been a powerful experience for me! I love how God continues to call us deeper and higher!

  2. Dear Meghan,

    When I knew you, you used your closet to pracitce crunches until your spine ached.

    I couldn’t believe it- was even shocked- when you admitted you were breaking the Castlewood “rules” so flagrantly- you, obviously so kind, so gently souled, so seeking the lightly.

    Can I express what it means to me that you now use your closet to “gut-wrenching sob… cry… out in human and spirit-language for this child whom I had suddenly enfolded into my heart….”

    What is that, if not spiritual growth? To yell into the darkness, this soul has a right to be here, with perfect empathy releasing you from the hell you suffered for yourself?


    1. Oh my goodness! I didn’t even think of this! Wow, if that isn’t redemption, I don’t know what is! Thank you for reflecting this to me! I absolutely am astonished! I love you, Bailey!

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