I could start off my blog with this informative introduction all about missions and what God has called me to on the World Race, but I feel as though sharing the raw and exposed relationship I have with God is more important at this moment.
<– Flashback to Sunday
All I had been able to pray since I received the news that id be trekking all over Asia with the World Race was,
“Lord, help me!”
“God, I need you!” and
“Jesus, take this away”
It was as if all lines of communication between me and my Father were cut off. In disbelief, I wasn’t excited by the opportunity to share about the love of Jesus anymore. My flesh was fighting the will of God and my joy dissipated to absolutely nothing. Old thought patterns and addictions were so enticing, yet even as I waded into the murky waters of temptation and selfish ambition, my silent prayer was that God would yank me back into His arms and not let me turn my back on Him again, to take a detour that would strip years of basking in Gods love from me once more.
And of course He came to my rescue and firmly secured the anchor where my hope is found: In Him.
Within the past month, as I waited for an answer on whether I would be traveling to Asia in September, the enemy has tried every tactic under the sun. I felt weak, incapable, lazy, selfish, hateful, angry, sad, hurt, upset, doubtful… the gamete of emotions was too much to bear.
Sunday morning rolled around (Im not sure how I got there… these weeks are going by so fast) and there was no question that I needed to sprint to the alter and seek Him. Yet as I sat idle in my moving car, all my heart could manage to say was “God, I need you”. I walked in with a smile on my face and the usual façade that I was doing alright, but I sat down weak and fatigued with my heart throbbing for more of God. I was angry that I no longer wanted to follow through with the call God had placed on my life. I was mad at myself for not wanting to abandon this luxurious life I have so desperately wanted to leave behind! There wasn’t any doubt that I wouldn’t be going into the mission field, but anger and hatred toward myself, for feeling as if I just didn’t want to go, filled every cell in my body. It was going to be too hard! Too long! Too hot, too tiring, too much walking, carrying, too much dirt and sweat and tears… too much loving.
I fought back tears all through worship. I always keep a wall up. Isnt that funny? Even at the place where I am allowed to come to Jesus most vulnerably, I hold everything in as if im safeguarding my most prized possession: my alabaster box.
God was there in the room. His presence filled the spaces in between the words we sang. Disconnected, I opened my eyes and peered around the dark room and could tell that my Father was there. “How do I reach you God! Please! I don’t want to go another minute without having you by my side!!”
And then I had a breakthrough. He knew that everyone else standing with their hands raised had to disappear and it needed to be just me and Him. I closed my eyes and let the music soak in. Each word penetrated my heart as if the Father was whispering life into my being. Tears began to trickle down my face and soak my lace dress. For an instance, I tried to suck the tears back in, but how could I resist what I had been pleading for? How could I keep my alabaster box sealed shut when God wanted the most precious inner pieces of my heart? So I let them flow. Memories flooded my mind; hurtful memories and years of what satan had stolen from me. I wept. Not caring if worship had come to a close or if there were people in the crowd wondering why a put-together Christian was losing it over there. Typical me to have negativity flooding my thoughts about what other people think of me. But a hand touched my shoulder and the wind carried a whisper to my heart… someone was praying the words that I had been unable to pray for weeks. The words I so desperately wish I could have just spoken to the Father. It was as if God was reassuring me that He knew I wanted Him, yet I had no strength. Why does this make me SO angry that I need someone else to just pray a few words! Because I have to be in control. No one else is allowed to know the hurt and the internal struggle I have. Its supposed to be MINE.
It wasn’t mine anymore. God allowed the soul that was praying over me to know my struggle. And so the last strand of disconnect snapped and I met the Father in the warmth of His embrace.
We all sat, and as the pastor spoke He told the story about Mary, a prostitute who took a bottle of extremely expensive perfume and poured is over Jesus feet washing them clean. How many men had it taken her to pay for such an expensive bottle of oil? How many nights had she cried herself to sleep wishing there was some other way to live than what she was? She clutched her alabaster box with a years wages worth of a small bottle of Spikenard; People staring her down in judgment and disgust wondering why she would even dare touch the feet of Jesus – a follower of Jesus even asking, “Lord if only you were a true prophet you wouldn’t let this woman touch you”. As Mary fell to her knees she wiped Jesus feet with her hair and the poignant fragrance overwhelmingly filled the room. If only she could get to the feet of Jesus, she thought, everything would change. And as my pastor spoke these words, Mary’s alabaster box of perfume became my own. Pictures flooded my mind of all the things I have felt guilty and ashamed for… lies I’ve told, people I’ve hurt, things I’ve done that I despise and things others have done to me… one by one they filled my alabaster box like a fragrant perfume. These were expensive and costly. I had spent years of my life working so hard to fill my alabaster box with unimportant and worthless acts of sin and unfulfilling pursuits. Thousands of tears, sleepless nights, broken friendships, un-mended relationships, and most of all a wounded spirit and hopeless, frail little girl clutching her life’s work in a tiny box. You see, Mary knew that if she could just get to the feet of Jesus everything would change. She didn’t care about what anyone was thinking. She was displaying her scarlet letter and putting her past on display for all to see and judge. But Jesus was all that mattered. Her story met mine as the Holy Spirit spoke to me, “Melissa, you’re not fighting the World Race, you’re fighting giving up your most prized possession… your alabaster box. I have called you to missions because I’m calling you to fall before me in surrender at my feet. Let go of the guilt, the shame, the past, and the opinions of people and grab ahold of my love and forgiveness. Pour out your spikenard and let the world smell the lingering scent of your past life. Your testimony is beautiful and powerful. You are important and loved but most importantly you have been set free, so forgive yourself and give me your precious secrets and disappointments and follow me to the ends of the earth because I am your hearts true desire.”
As the service came to a close they asked a question I don’t remember and then asked people to stand if the answer was yes. I didn’t care what the question was, honestly, I just wanted to declare that I was going to stand out and break my alabaster box for the Lord pouring out my precious perfume on His feet. Years worth or pent up tears and emotions flooded my eyes and pitter pattered on the cement surface of church floor. With my hands raised, the worship leader began to softly sing my hearts song, a song that has been an unspoken prayer of so many times before, and I knew my Daddy had brought me back to His heart.
With arms stretched high, heart abandon, I whispered the words
“I wanna sit at your feet
Drink from the cup in your hand
Lay back against you and breathe
Feel your heartbeat
This love is so deep, its more than I can bear
I melt in your peace its overwhelming”
I was home again, home safe in the arms of the one who speaks life into my bones even when im running far from His love. Hope is welling within my soul and I am unashamed of my past, because my past makes my future extremely powerful and life changing. You see, I have been transformed and you wouldn’t be able to tell me apart from the person I was before I met Jesus. Hearing about Mary gave me the confidence to step up and actually display all areas of journey with My God. You see, the years of hurt and loneliness vibrantly contrast the healed and fulfilled young woman I am today.
And so, God has placed a calling on my life. A calling that requires me to allow all my weaknesses, sin, failures, and hurts boil to the surface and be scooped away so that I may be in complete relationship with My God, My Creator, My Healer. Before I can be broken for the lost of this world, I must be broken for myself.
And So, I break my alabaster box for the Lord, will you?
