This time last week I was in the middle of worship with Jonathan David and Melissa Helser at the helm. I was praying "LORD, break me into pieces. Oh God, break me into usable pieces for your Kingdom, LORD. For you glory LORD."
Tonight, I'm sitting on my couch in Canton, GA with NCIS muted in the backgroud. There is so much to say.
Last week, I went to Gainesville (about 1 1/2 hrs east) to serve at the Awakening, a weekend retreat for alumni Racers to come together and remember what the LORD has done. If you've read my blog at all, you've probably read the last entry, a poem. I wrote that in the middle of a worship session last weekend where I felt so alone and abandoned by the LORD. He, of course, hasn't abandoned me at all. It was my fear that said He had.
My fears are lies; they are lies.
But tonight, that's not the point.
There were hundreds of alumni at the Awakening, too many for me to count, really, and Serve Team was too small to meet all their needs. I felt incompetant, just rushing from one task to the other. One moment, scraping red clay off of plastic tent flaps, the next putting out pizza or BBQ pork for lunch. Make no mistake, I am BLESSED because I was able to serve here. Many of these Alumni put sleep and good nutrition aside to make my Training Camp in July possible. They served with their hearts open, giving without asking to be invited into our hearts and being taken in regardless.
There was a man at the Awakening, one I should have noticed far earlier than I did. I should have paid more attention to the urging in my spirit, but I was afraid. He–in his green military cap– came looking for extra pizza and I, laughing, brought him into the kitchen and opened both fridges. "Take your pick," I said. "PLEASE take a whole one. I don't have room for it all."
We made casual conversation and then went our seperate ways. And I, afraid and chalking my fears up to attraction, made excuses for what the LORD kept speaking.
We ran into each other several times and I kept saying "NO!" to the LORD, thinking myself foolish for thinking that the LORD would speak to me about a man. It's a man's job to speak to men, after all, I thought.
In worship, that last night, I felt my heart stir again towards him. The LORD spoke, saying, "Tell him that I've already gone before him. That the land I've promised him is already his. To be strong and courageous. To remember that the LORD HIS GOD IS WITH HIM WHEREVER HE GOES. Tell him to think of being a Squad leader."
And I didn't. Well, not entirely.
I saw him with a sword, leading a multitude into battle, and I didn't believe it. I thought I was distracted during worship and directed my thoughts back to the LORD.
I saw him with his hands over a group of six, and I didn't believe it. I thought I was imagining things, and redirected my heart back to GOD.
I saw him with hearts in his hands, palms open, sacraficially giving of himself for this team, and I didn't believe it. I thought I was pushing an agenda that wasn't mine to push, and pointed my eyes to the throne of heaven.
I told a friend about the visions and my fears. She said that in the AIM community, I was safe to share with him what I'd seen. It didn't matter that I didn't know this man's name. He would know I spoke with an open heart.
So I went after him to tell him what I'd seen, but I didn't really believe it.
When I found him, I–rather awkwardly–told him that the LORD spoke to me of Joshua 1:9 and that HE had already given this man the ground he would set his feet on. I didn't mention that I thought he was meant to be a squad leader. I didn't tell him what I'd seen. I didn't say that I knew him to be a prayer warrior, a defender, a mighty man of GOD. I didn't say it because I was afraid and because I didn't even know his name.
I was afraid and so I ran, literally. I blurted out this little bit on the steps up to the fellowship hall and then bolted back towards the tent, hands trembling and heart still uncertain.
I was afraid to be wrong. I was afraid to step out in faith. Mostly, I was afraid that the LORD wouldn't speak to someone like me. In that fear, the Enemy won.
Tonight, I hope to rectify that.
I don't know who you are or how to find you. But I hope that somehow, the LORD leads you here so you can read this:
He has a purpose for you. He is going before you, giving you the land your feet touch. He will provide for you in ways that you will say are unimaginable. He will show you where to go. He will show you love like you've never known so that you can give it to your squad. And yes, that voice you heard in the tent was telling you to be a leader. Yes, it meant a squad leader. Be strong and courageous, my nameless friend, for the LORD YOUR GOD is with you, wherever you go. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I should have believed. Forgive me. I should have told you while I could. I haven't been able to forget what the LORD was saying. I hope someone else was braver than I. Forgive me. Believe like I was not able to believe.
