A church is but four walls, as is my bedroom, and was my 2008 Honda element (aka the box). Church like most things is an opportunity; you take out of it what you may. I could spend an entire church service editing the picture I took in the courtyard before service, but I wouldn’t be getting poured into. Alternatively, I could spend the entire service worshipping and experiencing the presence of God. Growing up in the church gave me opportunities to choose to have a relationship with God. Without a doubt the days that the Holy Spirit rocks me the most is on days where I don’t even feel like going to church, but I go anyway. The best thing about being a Christian is relationship and that our relationship doesn’t solely live inside a building.
As I sit here on a plane headed to Washington DC I think about all it encompasses, Memorial Day weekend. My heart hurts thinking about the season of pain and hurting, but here I am joyful to go.
My brother Edward was 21 years old. He had been married a year and a half with a newborn baby. He missed the birth. He was working as an Army Combat Medic on his second deployment, this time in Afghanistan. I was almost six months into Ventura living. I was going to fulfill one of my dreams and play college volleyball.
Ventura was not a new place to me. I was born there. My grandmother, Aunt, and Uncle still lived there and I spent every Christmas break and part of summer there.
There was a church in Ventura. The building was not new, but the people and the name. The building was the one I had been dedicated in. The church that many years ago I watched my uncle preach as a youth pastor. A few years later the City Church came to town, a church plant from Seattle to Ventura. They were ready to change the city, start a revival and bring Jesus to everyone whose path they crossed.
Saturday, December 3,2011: I heard my phone ring in my room and went to answer. It was my dad asking for my aunt. Ten seconds into me handing the phone over I just saw her cover her mouth and begin to get emotional. I asked again and again what was wrong and she just held one finger up, prompting me to wait. Finally in a broken cracked voice she spoke two words, “It’s Edward”. I fell to my knees in the entryway to the house and immediately was taken over by emotion.
Edward was overseas and I was scared that I had just lost my only brother. So much ran through my head as I tried to process what was going on. I was in complete shock. Finally after my aunt got off the phone I learned that my brother was alive. He was badly hurt and we didn’t know the extent of his injuries.
I had missed Sunday morning service to drive home and be with my parents, but was back before youth service on Sunday night. Before every service we have pre-service prayer and that’s exactly where I wanted to be right then. I sat in the back right of the sanctuary worshipping. As the song ended we began to pray. Prayer over the service and for lives to be changed in service. Then Jude Jr., our youth pastor turned the attention to me. Asking everyone to pray for me. I stood there crying with my hands palm up at waist level. 40 people surrounded me praying out loud for my brother and my family. I heard a thousand voices, but they were all hushed and I couldn’t hear one more distinctly than another. I had been so confused and hurt for the past 36 hours. I had heard so many different possible situations about my brother’s health standing. There was so much uncertainty because I had heard so many different things. This was feeling the power of prayer. In this moment I felt such peace. I knew that God was going to heal my brother. I knew that everything was going to be okay.
For seven weekends I would make the 4-hour drive to San Diego to visit my brother in ICU. I listened to the same worship cd over and over. My element was definitely not a church, but it became my prayer closet. The four walls of a church aren’t limited. The beauty of a relationship with God is that I can pray about anything at anytime, anywhere. I beyond anything else am thankful that I had a foundation of faith. My only place I wanted to be after being so broken was church. My first reaction was prayer.
Becoming a Christian doesn’t grant you immunity to bad things happening to you. I grew up going to church every Sunday. Sometimes we wholeheartedly pray for something from God, and sometimes He answers no. After the death of my brother, I was angry and that’s okay. God’s timing is more perfect than I know, and what He has ahead for me is unimaginable. As I prepare to leave this plane I get joy because I get to share my story. I get to honor Edward. Just as I carry Christ with me in my heart, I carry my brother with me wherever I go.
RIP Edward Acosta
March 5, 2012
Combat Medic
Afghanistan
#Lauratothenations
