This post, and probably many more fututure ones, will be more of a sharable diary entry. A way for me to record and remember parts of my journey. To testafy (insert southern accent).
It's been a very rough last several few months for more reasons than I care to now take the time to write. Suffice it to say, I've been questioning what difference I make. What difference church makes. What difference anyone can make. This has been one of my haunts during this season where the floor of my heart and head has fallen out from under my feet. I've lost a confidence I've had in many areas of my life. I think that's healthy in some ways, and not so much in others. Holding things lightly, with open hands so as to be teachable and gentle with others: good. Feeling like nothing I do matters and being paralized to move in any direction: not so good.
I've only got 5 minutes before getting the boys fed, so I'll try to fit this in quickly. Last night, through a sleepless time of prayer, I was intensely encouraged. I was praying for several people I hold in my heart. Picturing things for them, images I used to ask God to bless them by, and generally just desiring their encouragement and success. After about an hour of this for a few dozen people, I experienced my heart lightening and I myself was becoming intensely encouraged. It was a lightbulb momement for me realizing I could make people feel loved simply by thinking and praying for them. I didn't need to spend the face to face time that I wanted (and expected) inorder to love on them. I didn't need to fix and resolve everything I wanted to be fixed and resolved for them (which is something that I've been coming more to grips with lately: that I simply can't fix people like I can fix mechanisms or software). That partially sounds embarasing to admit that I even thought that. But there's a part of that motivation to heal, fix, resolve that I do think is good and right. The desire to see people healed: good. The expectation on yourself to heal them: not so good. I can't wait to pray for all the people I love more and I can't wait to let them know I'm praying for them. It's an outlet for me to make them feel loved cand cared for. I might not be solving their problems or spending time with them (both of which I would if I could), but I can make them feel loved and cared for simply by them knowing I'm thinking and praying for them often. That seems amazing to me right now. Like I was just given a present.
Another thing I feel like I learned through this experience is that I suspect this is part of what it means to not rely on my own flesh. To feel this encouragment and lifting of my heart come through time spent in prayer tells me something about the source of this strength I feel. The strength to love.
