So I’m not exactly healthy.
Most of you know I was diagnosed with a seizure disorder in 2014. I have since suffered, recovered, and moved on. That was until the night before launch.
My last night at home I had three auras. These for me are kind of like mini seizures. Of course it scared everybody. My parents even tried telling me I wasn’t going. However, I felt strong. I felt like a threat. I felt powerful. I knew it was a spiritual attack and that meant even more I needed to go. So I did.
I’ve had some episodes, some hospital visits, and some incredible teammates to hold my hand through it.
Let me pause and rewind for a minute.
Our moblizer and leadership team prayed over words for everybody on the squad. Engraved on keys, they passed them out at launch. By no coincidence the word I got was “healed.” This made me know that I was doing the right thing. That I was entering battle. That I had put a target on my back for Satan to attack and he was.
I have stumbled a time or two. I’ve questioned a time or two why this is happening again and I’ve had to come back to this word and just believe.
Fast forward to this day.
It seems to be when I feel God the most that they come. The attacks. I’m in love with the Lord and His goodness. He has been beautifully faithful and abundantly loving towards me. I’ve been beyond blessed this past month. I knew it was just a matter of time. Today is May 9th. It’s travel day. Let the record state that I’m not particularly in love with travel days. I’m always scared someone’s going to get lost or something’s going to go wrong. This travel day is extra special. Heavily seasoned with anxiety.
I had several attacks last night. I woke up exhausted.
It may not sound all that challenging but carrying my 50+ pound bag today felt hard. I couldn’t seem to be strong. I was drained and struggling.
I see my fate in front of me in the form of a 500 meter bridge. I am consumed with the thought, “I can’t do this.” I sit for a minute and pray.
“Lord. Please give me strength. I really really don’t want to be a cry baby and/or fall over in front of everybody. Lord. I am weak. Please give me strength.”
I hadn’t stepped foot on the bridge before a shirtless stranger approaches me. He insists on carrying my bag. Thirty five people carrying fifty pound bags and he sought me out. I insist that I am fine and I can do it.
He is kind. The whole atmosphere around him is good and genuine. It isn’t sketchy or perverted. He just wants to help. I can feel that. After some persuasive gestures, I give him my bag. He walks the whole way with me, speaking to me once or twice. I keep thanking him and he keeps reiterating that it’s no big deal. He walks the WHOLE way with me. Before we part I reach for money and within a moment he says “no no”, and walks away smiling.
United as one strong voice the whole world can’t convince me that wasn’t an angel. That God sent him to me in and for that moment. For the cherry on top, let me tell you this man had a prosthetic leg. This merciful stranger- shirtless, dirty, cigarette out the mouth, disabled soul saw me and knew he could help. Not only did he know it but he acted on it.
Closing thoughts-
1. God’s works are dripping with confusing kindness.
2. Ministry and outreach happens to me just as much or more than through me.
3. Blessings and answered prayers come disguised and cloudy more often than packaged and pristine.
4. Lord, bless him for doing this.
5. Lord, how can I do this for others ?
