For the past few weeks, I've been begging God to speak to me. To comfort me. To show up. My pleas were met with much silence, which is utterly maddening when your breaking point is near and you crave reassurance from the only One who can truly provide it. Little did I know that a virtual avalanche of comfort and reassurance was in store for me.
It all began about 24 hours ago, after I posted my most recent entry. I felt tired, dejected, frustrated, and generally ready to give up. It was then that a friend of a friend, a person I've never met in real life and couldn't pick from a line-up, asked me to give her a call. After much internal debate and an 'okay God, if this happens, I'm going to call this girl' moment, I dialed her digits and we had a long conversation. We talked of faith and healing and standing strong on the Word. Of being different because life requires that we be different. Of having faith that looks crazy to most. It was an inspiring, faith-building talk, and I'm grateful that she made herself available to me when she didn't have to do so.
Then this morning, we headed to church en masse for Brady's baptism. I haven't really been interested in church lately. In fact, the last time I went a few weeks ago, I wound up sitting through 10 minutes of worship before I couldn't take anymore. I spent the rest of the service sitting awkwardly in the back of my van, wedged between the seats so no one would see me crying. But today was a big day in the life of our family, so I approached the service with the door of my heart open just a crack.
Our family of six herded to the front of the room for the sprinkling, and then we returned to our seats. A few minutes later, our pastor (per a hastily-made arrangement) approached Logan and Adam where they sat, and the entire church prayed over him. For healing, for restoration. For the kind of wellness and the kind of wholeness that only God can provide. As I stood on the side aisle holding my squirmy, wiggly Brady, I tried to let the words seep into my soul; I tried to let them penetrate that tiny crack in my heart. I tried to really believe them, to own them. It too was a comforting experience.
But the real meat of the morning came with the message, which focused on Nehemiah and dealt with spiritual warfare and battles. I don't know that I've ever absorbed the words of a sermon so fully. I was like a sponge, nodding and agreeing with so much of what was said, scarcely able to believe what I was hearing.
And it's not because I ever thought I was wrong about spiritual battles in this world, but because God actually met me where I was. He showed up. He chose the one Sunday when my presence at church was guaranteed. He spoke a powerful Word into my life through our pastor; a Word that I'd heard before but desperately needed to have reaffirmed. I needed to be reminded that what we're dealing with here is a battle that's spiritual in nature. I needed to be reminded that in order to defeat evil, we have to recognize that it's there and fight it. I needed to be reminded that God is on my side, on Logan's side, and that though we face setbacks and frustrations, God IS the victor, in the present tense.
So I ask you all again to don your armor for my sweet sunshine and fight the battle on his behalf. I refuse to simply put my head in the sand and pretend that evil doesn't exist, because that's the easiest way to lose a war. No, I ask you all to join me in prayer and fight against it; to say 'get behind us, Satan, in the name of Jesus'.
I realize that this will make me sound crazy to some of you, but what's new? Part of faith is being unafraid of looking a little nutty to onlookers. It's my prayer that those of you who are with us fighting the fight will be strong, protected and willing warriors. Blessings to you.