During my first experience of Training Camp for the World Race back in August, we had the opportunity to respond to God through many different mediums. One afternoon, we dove into a more artistic expression- painting, to be exact. We were asked to sit and pray and, if we felt so lead, we could paint an image God placed on our hearts.
This was a brand new world to me and I was drawn to it; I prayed a simple prayer, asking God to give me a picture- and He did. It was such a sweet, intimate moment for me. All week I had been experiencing breakthrough after breakthrough and my walls were being demolished, and to have God respond to my prayer in such a real way was unbelievably powerful… and precious to me. Praise God, He gave me a simple illustration to paint (because, Lord knows, I’m not very artistically inclined) but it held so much meaning for me- meaning in regards to my past, what He was doing at that present moment, and what He would continue to do in my future.
I had a part in planning a women’s retreat for my church that took place this past weekend. During one of the planning meetings, I mentioned the aforementioned time of artistic expression and it was decided to included something similar as part of a larger time of response and surrender. Since I felt so strongly about it, I was asked to give very brief instructions at the retreat.
This retreat consisted of 25 or so women I go to church with- a small enough, familiar enough, group of women that I should be comfortable enough to get up and say a few sentences in front of.
I botched it, to say the least. I don’t remember what I said, but I’m sure it didn’t really make sense. I stumbled over words and literally lost my train of thought time and time again…
I wanted to effectively relay the experience I had at Training Camp. I had so much I wanted to share, but I literally could not make my mouth say the words I wanted to say. While I was attempting to speak, I felt a weight on my chest and I was trapped. The real me was trapped inside this defective body and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I think I ended with a “…and… so… um… yeah…” and I went back to my seat. I sat down and completely lost it.
As I sat there crying, situations I have been told to expect on the World Race came flooding to my mind: speaking in front of churches, teaching English, ministering to strangers…
If I couldn’t make myself say the words I needed to say in such an easy, familiar setting, how dare I even consider speaking to others when salvation is on the line?
My inadequacy would, without a doubt, be a stumbling block to someone hearing the truth of the Gospel.
What use am I, if I can’t speak?
It would be better for them if I stayed where I was and someone else went in my place.
For the first time ever, I was convinced I shouldn’t go on the Race.
I hate that this is a part of who I am. I have this passion and heart for people and for the Gospel and it devastates me that I can’t speak effectively. It kills me that this desire I’ve had since I was young, to tell the world about Jesus, feels impossible because I’m so riddled with anxiety.
During that time of surrender, the women were praying, worshiping, crying, painting…
I was pacing, trying to figure out a way I could get out of there unnoticed. At one point, our leader asked me what was wrong and I, in essence, swatted her away.
Eventually, I ended up on the floor, ugly sobbing, and crying out to God, asking Him what I was supposed to do. I opened my clenched hands and showed Him my fears and failures and told Him I simply cannot go on the Race.
“You’re going anyway.”
But… God!… Don’t you see…
“Go anyway.”
I can’t!!
“I CAN. Go anyway.”
*So much more ugly sobbing…*
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That happened 24 hours ago. I wish I could say my doubts have been completely removed and I am super confident… but they haven’t, and I’m not.
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
I am so weak.
But God is so strong!
I can’t do this alone, and that is devastating to my ego. I take so much pride in doing things well, by myself; I don’t want to be put in situations where my weakness is on full display.
I was reminded again this weekend of the power of prayer, and I pray my life would be saturated with prayer and with the Word… I pray I never tire of glorifying His name and that my weakness will only highlight His awesome power and strength.
