I am leaning against the turquoise wall– surrounded by 49 other racers who praise and worship with high hands and loud voices.
I don’t see the high hands and I don’t hear the loud voices. I stand– completely alone with Love Himself, wrapped tightly in peace.
God is Love.
I wrap my arms around myself and sing wholeheartedly.
Suddenly, the song changes. I am shocked out of my secret place and back into the turquoise room. The enemy reaches out to snatch away my sweet peace, & my confidence shakes for a moment.
“Your love never fails. It never gives up. It never runs out on me,” we sing.
I remember the last time I sang this song.
“Higher than the mountains that I face. Stronger than the power of the grave,” we sing.
My eyes open wide, and scan the room– no one else is moved. No one else is clutched with fear and pain.
But I remember.
I remember living a life so distant from the Spirit that I couldn’t recognize his voice or his power,
just one short year ago.
I remember holding my grandmas hand as she whispered quietly and asked me to pray for death because her pain just wouldn’t go away.
When she spoke, my eyes (that had been glued to beeping monitors on a very expensive machine) turned to meet hers. That was the first time I ever prayed for healing. It was less like claiming a promise in the authority of the spirit & more like a desperate heart-cry.
Either way, he heard me. He healed her.
I never knew the heart of our God the Healer. I never knew the power of his Spirit. But he is, in fact, “stronger than the power of the grave.”
As those words echoed through the turquoise room, I remembered.
“Higher than the mountains that I face. Stronger than the power of the grave. Constant in the trial and the change. One thing remains.”
Losing a family member while on the field is every world racer’s nightmare.
When the emergency line called last week, my world stopped for a second or two.
They said it was my grandma.
And my heart broke.
She laid in a hospital bed, miles and miles away.
I laid in a broken bunk bed, frantically wrestling with my own faith.
I desperately wanted to ask God to heal her. But I remembered Hezekia & I remembered the boy in the village…
There’s still fear in me.
I was afraid he would say no– and my heart can’t take another, “No,” from the Spirit.
Not for Hezekia.
Not for the village boy.
And definitely not for my Grandma.
I love the God who was, and is, and is to come. The God who has no shadow of turning. The Great “I AM.”
Love Himself.
In life and in death he will act according to his character.
And when we know and trust him, that’s the greatest peace to be had.
I’m convinced that life is not about knowing “his will” as much as it is about knowing HIM. I’m convinced that heaven is not about leaving this world as much as it is about entering his presence.
When we pray for healing, it is not his response that determines his character. It is his character that determines his response.
So, I didn’t ask him for healing.
Instead, I just asked him to act in his character. He can’t say no to his own character, right?
His word says he is patient with us because he wants all to come to him.
So, I asked him to be patient with her.
I asked him to take her if she was reconciled to the Father through the blood of Jesus, and I asked him to be patient with her & give her more time if she wasn’t.
The next day, he took her.
And I trust him with that.
I was afraid- but I’m not afraid anymore.
I used to get tangled in my thoughts and feelings, trying with all my might and faith and logic to discern what the “will of God,” was in any certain situation. But there is no insecurity in asking for his will when his character is seen so clearly.
I lean against the turquoise wall, surrounded by my brothers and sisters, reliving moments of fear and pain;
The fear that clutched my heart is cast out in the name of Love, and the pain is cast out with the promise of heaven.
Once again, I am wrapped tightly in peace,
and I worship the healer of my soul:
“Higher than the mountains that I face. Stronger than the power of the grave. Constant in the trial and the change. One thing remains: your love. Your love never fails. It never gives up. It never runs out on me.”
These truths we sing don’t feel so painful anymore.
These truths feel
true.
The song changes again, and a smile spreads across my face-
“So I’ll stand with arms high and heart abandoned, in awe of the one who made it all. I’ll stand; my soul, Lord, to you surrendered. All I am is yours.”
And my soul says, “Yes, Jesus.”
