Almost exactly one year ago, as I prepared for this crazy year of totally unexpected events, I sat with the Lord and heard those two words spoken to me as what this year would be. I could never have put it any better, especially on the onset of a pilgrimage that has totally changed me. It’s been absolutely and completely painfully glorious.
This year has broken me. Some of the best times this year were the hardest, most painful ones. I’ve picked up my share of wounds. Wounds from the messiness and imperfection of community. Wounds from the enemy trying to kill, steal, and destroy. Wounds from a world that is hurting and desperate. I would definitely be lying if I said those wounds haven’t hurt. There have been more than a handful of moments I’ve found myself face-to-the-ground, crying the name of Jesus for relief from the intensity. Moments where everything in my flesh wanted to run away and give up and yet everything in my spirit said: STAY.
The truth is that when you go to battle, you most likely come out with wounds – especially if you choose to risk it all on the front lines. This year was not about playing safe off on the side. It was about getting up and in the face of darkness in this world, fighting the injustices and our own strongholds that have held their place for far too long.
From the very beginning of this journey, I was ready and willing to get scuffed up so it’s a given that I’ve picked up some hard hits. They’re not open and raw anymore, but their markings of where they once hurt by the mere touch remain. As much as those wounds have hurt this year, the truth is that I love the scars and marks. They carry stories of grace, lots of grace, and of a redemption that brought life out of some hard places that could have simply carried with it death. They played a huge part in my story unraveling this year and in the person I am walking out as.
And as the pain was walked through, so came the GLORY.
Oh, the glory.
It has been incomparable to anything I could ever have imagined. He’s proven Himself absolutely and completely faithful this year, words I do not use lightly. The Glory I have seen is His very face, face-to-face with mine.
And in that has come the glory of a girl’s knee ligaments healed right before my eyes. The glory of His body as three guys fought on behalf of me all night for my ear to be healed…to wake up the next morning completely pain free. The glory of countless coming forward wanting more of Jesus in their lives and six-year-olds crying out that they are going to change their Buddhist country for Jesus.
Undeniable protection and hell-threatening empowerment came out of thirty minutes of being held up at gunpoint in Africa. Girls have been rescued from the bar scene and men have walked away from their night of supposed “excitement” with tears in their eyes because the Holy Spirit was capturing their hearts. His beloved children, orphans, and forgotten have been loved and called once again by name. Women have kneeled on the ground with hands upward saying “Jesus, come” as they were baptized into new life.
This year hurt like no other year in my life. I’ve gotten more hits and more scars then ever before. But the marks prove that a battle was fought – a real battle. Not the kind where man fights against man over a disagreement or to prove one is right. The kind of battle where Life fights Death…and wins…. always. It all was worth it because He is worth it all and because out of this refining fire came His lasting Glory invading this world.
This year was when the Glory fell.
OH Lord, let it fall and fall and fall….
