Silent Saturday

As I wait in the dark silence of Saturday, the day between redemption and hope, I hear a soft whisper or is it a low roar.  It's like the ground is rumbling in Friday aftershock shaking loose all my self-righteousness, reminding me of the blood poured out over my sin, the only reason I stand justified and righteous before the throne.  The sound is beckoning me closer.  And it's assuring me there is more but I'll have to walk away from something in order to find it.  To find more, I will need less. Less stuff, less distraction, less Facebook, less worry, less fear, less of this world, much less of me.  I'm beginning my search, pivoting toward the sound and walking away with less to find more.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.  Forgive me that I thought I was capable of anything good on my own.  I need You, Lord.  Release the fullness of Your Spirit and bring me under His leadership so that I may follow You victorious in full obedience.  Give me endurance to walk with zeal and diligence for Your glory alone.  And strengthen me to lay all things down that stand between us. Lord, bare and in your presence is my soul's cry.  I will do anything. Amen.

Even One

I signed up months ago.  The email came asking for help on Easter Sunday at the 11:00 service.  It wasn’t in an area I would confidently say I am gifted, but I was happy to help.  I didn’t know then what God was orchestrating.  But now I see.  As I clicked send, He grabbed His maestro stick and rose in His compassion.

Weeks passed after my Easter sign-up and through a myriad of events, I was reconnected to the ministry God had laid on my heart months earlier. God had nudged me toward being a Prayer Partner, someone to step out into the aisles during service worship time, to take the hands of the broken and cross the threshold of the Holy.  I started up with the Prayer Partners again just weeks before and as Easter Sunday approached and emails were exchanged to ensure Prayer Partners were allocated among the services, I felt this pressing from the Holy Spirit.  Gentle, yet unwavering… to serve in this capacity at the 11:00 Easter Sunday service.  But I had already committed my time elsewhere and so, I dismissed it.

Easter Sunday arrived and after spending Saturday night dressed up in cute high heels that left my feet blistered, I selected my bright red “Join the Family” serving t-shirt, comfy jeans and cushioned running shoes to join the preschoolers in their too-cute-for-words sweater vests and spring dresses.  In the preschool room, we waited for children to show up.  First, a little boy who reminded me how big and loud the world can be when you feel scared and alone.  His mom was in a rush to drop him off so she could find her seat in the crowded sanctuary and his big brown eyes told me everything.  He was shy, he liked his mom and he couldn’t imagine spending the next hour without her.  He clung to her skirt and in a quiet rebellion, he refused to move.  I walked over and offered my hand.  To my great surprise he took it. Tightly.  Like it was a life boat.  And he held on for dear life for at least five minutes. 

 

 

We finally got two more children, little girls dressed for the occasion, and to my delight, my new hand-holding friend was comfortable to let go and played remarkably with his new found friends.  I watched as the three played in all their imagination together.  Strangers. To each other and perhaps to this place.  But I could see so purely in these children how much we need each other.  This was fellowship at its most innocent and bare.  And it was beautiful.   

Before long, the service had started and our room count was at three.  On Easter Sunday.  At 11:00.  The preschool staff was reeling wondering whether there would be a mad rush or if they should accept this as it.  As I stood baffled, they made the decision that I wasn’t needed and moved our three littles to another room.

The minute those tykes were taken care of, the Holy Spirit gently pressed again, reminding me of those weeks before and how He’d been whispering about the 11:00 service as a prayer partner.

So, about as underdressed as you can get on Easter Sunday, I walked down the hall, grabbed my white Prayer Partner lanyard, and entered the sanctuary.  I quickly found a seat, sang and worshipped and gave thanks to my Abba Father, who allowed me to corporately worship Him with our worship pastor and the choir leading the way not one time, not two times but three times that weekend!   

 

photo source

Prayer partners were summoned from the stage to take their positions around the room and after a brief observation, I filled in a gap along a wall.  It wasn't long before I saw her coming, headed straight for me.  A friend.  And she was broken.  I could see this long before she made it to me.

As she walked up, she smiled through her tears, called me by name and said, “When I saw you, I knew I had to step out.  I wasn’t going to but then I saw you.  Please pray for me.”  And she went on to explain her need.

I prayed.  We left the sanctuary and spoke for a few minutes in the hall.  I offered what I had.  She left and returned to her seat… smiling and claiming she felt better. 

{sigh}

 

{deep sigh}

Humbled doesn’t even scratch the surface here.  A woman, a friend opened her heart and shared a brief paragraph of her story because she felt safe.   And, oh how I wished right there that we would all make each other feel this way.  Safe enough to be two or more gathered at His feet, mess in our hands, strengthening each other to bend together and lay it down. 

That she would have forgone stepping out except that she saw a familiar face in a sea of people… and that this time, God orchestrated me as that face to call someone out of the shadows…  No. words.  Well… maybe a few.

“Who am I, Sovereign Lord, and what is my family, that you have brought me this far?  How great you are, Sovereign Lord! There is no one like you, and there is no God but you…” (2 Samuel 7:18, 22)

On a day that calls the masses to the pews, God spoke so vividly to me about the importance of even one. One lost sheep is worth a search party.  One scared little boy is worth a rescue crew.  One broken sister is worth moving mountains for a friendly face to stand out in a crowd. One mess of a Jesus girl is worth sending the broken to affirm the willing.  And only One is worth what little we have to offer and He will feed the multitudes right before our very eyes.

A willing heart offered in faith and He will use it to move heaven and earth for even one, even me, especially you.

Operation: Reconciliation

From the archives

He knew I deserved the Crown of Thorns yet He let it rest on His head.

He knew I earned the flogging in the streets yet He took my place.

He knew I could never settle the wages of my sin or tear the veil on my own, yet He wanted a relationship with me that would last for eternity.

He knew that I, the wretch, would need a Savior, so He hung on a tree, pierced for every single transgression He knew I would commit.

He knew that I , the powerless, would need the power of His resurrection, so He conquered death, leaving my sins in His grave and giving me freedom to live life abundantly.

He wrote the greatest story of reconciliation the world will ever know in His very own blood... for ALL the people, all for LOVE. May you be reconciled this Holy week, this Holy life to your Savior and also to each other - all for Love.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres. Love never fails." - 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

He is Risen!

"On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, 'Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!'" (Luke 24:1-9)

And I think that's the amazing part... Jesus rising from the dead.  God in the flesh claiming victory for each and every one of us over death, clearing our path to eternity.  And the empty tomb, it is absolutely overwhelming to me!  But... this God on high who loves desperately, relentlessly, He doesn't stop there.  Because He is still raising the dead with His limitless power of the resurrection. 

The deadness of my sin that lives inside of me, it can be defeated too. And new life can grow right from the ashes, dripping with hope and grace.  From the ashes of my anger can grow patience and love.  From the ashes of my materialism can grow self-control.    From the ashes of my wretched life can grow a new thing, a beautiful thing right from the dust!  The fruit of the Spirit... Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.  That's the power of the resurrection here and now!

Christ has risen! He has risen indeed!  And it's an historical event, but it's also a current event. May we roll the stones away from our heart tombs so He can continue to rise up in each one of us!

Happy Resurrection Sunday!