“[Then] what prayer [or] what supplication soever shall be made of any man, or of all thy people Israel, when every one shall know his own sore and his own grief, and shall spread forth his hands in this house: Then hear thou from heaven thy dwelling place, and forgive, and render unto every man according unto all his ways, whose heart thou knowest; (for thou only knowest the hearts of the children of men:)” (2Ch 6:29-30 AV)
Solomon is not so naïve as to think a building is a magical place wherein God dwells and the only place from which the voice of God can come. Solomon is speaking to the nation of Israel upon dedicating the temple to the service of the LORD. The entry above is part of a prayer Solomon made to God, seeking His blessing on the building. But again, he is not so naïve as to think that God answered only from the temple. In fact, this prayer is offered at a high place and not at the finished temple. What struck me this morning is that every person will know his or her own sore and grief. This is part of our human existence. God has graciously provided prayer, and answers to prayer, as the means to navigate through it. Don’t let the end of the passage above mislead. The heart that God knows and the ways which He observes are the heart and ways of repentance. There are consequences for choices. That cannot be avoided. But God is not going to answer prayers for mercy and forgiveness with vindictiveness. There is mercy to be had. There is grace to experience. Our God knows our sores and our griefs, and He is not going to answer by kicking us when we are down!
It is surprising just how weak we can become. We don’t know our limits until we are pressed to the end of them. Every now and again, this happens. I remember one of the first times this happened to me. I remember getting to a point that I could no longer continue. I remember sitting down and not caring what the future held. The earliest memory was while working a paper route. Wintertime is impossible. For a ten-year-old boy, hauling newspapers in the snow is near to impossible. Especially the Sunday paper. Each weighed about three to four pounds. We had thirty to fifty of them to carry. Most of the time it was by wagon or sled. The blizzard of ’77 was a particularly bad one for the entire northern half of our country. Where I lived, snowdrifts were fifteen to twenty feet high. In the height of that storm, I was delivering newspapers. I had gotten about two-thirds of the way through and could not go another step. I sat down on my sled and didn’t care if I froze there. I figured someone would do something. Then my mom rolled up in our station wagon. We loaded up the papers, finished, and went home. Another time was a hunting trip. I had to drag two deer five miles through dense woods and snow.
There are also times when sin is so pervasive that it controls us and our circumstances and we no longer control it. It takes everything from us. There is nothing left. We have yielded time and again to the flesh, the world, and Satan. Like the children of Israel in the book of Judges, we do not seem to learn our lesson. We hope that one day we will. We are sick of the outcome. We are overwhelmed with sores and grief. The saint does not expect God to fix everything. We need to suffer for our choices. If we did not, we would never learn. What we can do is ask for relief of soul. Whether we are suffering from trial or transgression, God is there to pick us up, clean us off, strengthen us once again, and put our feet on solid ground. This was the promise of Solomon’s prayer. God knows our works and our hearts. He knows whether we are sincere. He knows if we are honest with Him and with ourselves. If we are, He will answer!