This is not a race story, but it’s still a good one and it reminds me of lots of great days and great people and I love great days and great people.
Tonight I am lying inside of my tent in Cambodia watching the live version of “Fire Never Sleeps” from the Jesus Culture New York CD and I am reminded of God and his faithfulness.
This past summer I wanted nothing more then to go to the JCNY event with all my loves. Unfortunately I already had another commitment. For months everyone would talk about the upcoming Jesus Culture Conference and my heart was sad because I knew I wouldn’t be there.
I asked God for weeks for some way and then finally I bit the bullet and asked Barbara if there was anyway I could fly home from West Virginia early and she told me it wasn’t unheard of, so I started my quest for flights. It was literally the week before I was supposed to leave for West Virginia for ASP when I bought a flight from Charleston, WV to JFK. I think people thought I was absolutely ridiculous, actually I know people thought I was absolutely ridiculous, but I genuinely wanted a piece of whatever the lord had to offer.
My plan was; get a ride to the airport on Friday night, sleep in the airport and fly out early Saturday morning for New York. I would arrive at the Coliseum only 30 minutes late if everything went according to plan. Unfortunately for all my planning my plans and God’s plans don’t always line up.
On Friday afternoon storms began to roll in to Sumner County, West Virginia. There were tornado warnings confirmed in the area as a tree limb fell outside our accommodations. ASP staff asked that we stay confined to the cafeteria building for safety until the storm passed. There was a moment where I was walking around the parking lot “Pulling a Miss Grace” rebuking the storm and the tornado and just claiming peace and safety.
A couple hours and many indoor foursquare games later, the storm had passed and I was showering in the dark and preparing for a drive to the airport. It was a road trip adventure as Janet, Matt, Mike, Liv and I piled into the Escalade and headed for the Charleston Airport. It was a complete black out. We arrived at the airport a little after 1 A.M. and I wandered inside to find some floor to curl up on. I set my alarm for 4 as to leave plenty of time for check-in.
I woke up and hopped in line ready to head on my way, what awaited me was not expected. Because of the storm the airline had cancelled my flight, rerouted me and then reinstated my flight, but not put me back on it. FABULOUS!
I got to the line and the lady handed my boarding pass, which informed me I wouldn’t leave Charleston until 11 A.M. I looked at her and said, “This can’t be so, I need to be on Long Island at 10:30 A.M.” She asked me to remove myself from the line. After a little temper tantrum with the lord where I literally stamped my foot and asked the Lord to search my heart on this, I took my bags and went to sit down.
Disappointment was not the word to describe my emotions in that moment. Tears began to stream down my face as I realized I would not be attending JCNY. I just couldn’t accept that this was where the road ended for me, so I took myself back to the ticket counter.
After a week with ASP and 16+ teenagers my voice is always a little scratchy, but after no sleep and tears, my voice was pretty non-existent. It was 10 minutes until my flight was supposed to take off, it was game time: this time I chose the man attendant, said a prayer and put on my smile. I asked the ticket counter man if he would please put me on the flight and I would figure out my next step when I got to D.C. for a lay over. He looked at me and said, “Okay, RUN!” Run I did. He held the fight for me? At that the tears fell heavier, “Lord forgive me, you are always so faithful, why don’t I trust you?” Why is it that I struggle with believing that God really does want to give me good gifts?
Upon arrival in D.C. my best option seemed to be try for my original flight. I went right to the gate. I didn’t even have a boarding pass for this flight. I looked up the flight number on my phone and found it on the monitor, B12 (it wasn’t really B12, but a gate number fits well in this story), I went straight to the gate and waited in line at the ticket counter where those pesky tears began to stream down my face again. I squeaked out an explanation to the ticket man and he agreed to put me on standby. I sat down to text out some prayer requests as a fire alarm began to sound.
I thought “Seriously?” The ticket man got on the microphone and announced, “Anyone going to JFK line up!” When I had arrived I was number 3 on the standby list, I went to the line and asked the man what I was supposed to do, he told me to line up and when I got to the “” he handed me my ticket and wished me well.
More tears, “Lord for real?” I arrived at Nassau County Coliseum around 11 A.M. with zero voice, but a willing heart and spirit. It was such a special day, I was so aware of my daddy in heaven and his love for me.
That night I was so filled with joy and felt so alive. I was literally bouncing about, it didn’t even matter that I couldn’t talk. As “Did You Feel the Mountains Tremble” began to play I ran down the stairs ready to worship. When I was a few rows from my seat, I tripped. Down I went, those pesky Coliseum stairs (a real step and a half step, no railing and total darkness) coughcoughliabilitycoughcough. I popped back up like nothing happened, but I really thought I had broken something.
In my head I thought, “Lord, I have training camp in 2 weeks then the world, I can’t have a broken foot, please heal me Lord.” By the last song I was in agony. I had to gag myself with my sweatshirt to make it back to the hotel. Man, what a bummer right? I just wanted to socialize, I mean the no voice was a minor setback, but the throbbing foot was another thing entirely. I made it to lobby ready for some socialization anyways, but what I received was prayer. Lots and lots of prayer, prayer rooted in love and faith.
I am lucky enough to have the best doctor around… Jesus. “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities: the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” Isaiah 53: 5. I woke up with some slight pain; I’d say 5 on the pain scale. By Sunday night the pain was minimal and by Monday it was non-existent. I went `for a run on Tuesday and claimed victory, “Walking in healing, thank you Jesus!”
