The Long Nights

 Pandemic. 

I'm sick of this word, and to be quite frank, have wished at times that I could just pretend like nothing was happening. For me, it's the isolation. Sure, I have been around people. I have continued to work. The Ministry Center continues to feed the hungry and care for people's needs, but the isolation I speak of comes when I am at home. When my kids and I, after months of being in close quarters for the last five months, have retreated. The little guy has taken over the living room, the teenager stays shut in his room, and my bedroom, which served as my work office for three months, has become my own apartment. We see each other, sure. I still cook meals. I still do the laundry. I am, after all, mom. But after so long, I have looked up to find that separation from one another has happened. Apparently, twenty-four hours of being around each other, at seven days a week no less, is a constraint. So the natural thing to do is get comfortable. We settled. They do them. I do me. And once every blue moon, we come out of our comfort zones to play Jenga or something. Or go to the pool together. Or play music together. Still, isolation is apparent. 

Something has happened during that time. To all of us. Our routines have been disrupted. There is no rise and shine and get kids off to school. My prayer time was disrupted, my devotional time was disrupted, all because all I did have, was time. Kinda ironic, isn't it? I lost time because I had too much of it. And when the slightest thing came up in my schedule and I needed to be somewhere or do something, I would get nervous thinking about how I could squeeze one more thing into my day when truth be told, time was all I had. Sure, there was a time when I was working twelve hours a day and since it was all from home for a period, there was that added feeling that I was always behind and that catching back up was impossible. I now see how unhealthy things began to manifest when I found myself checking voicemails from midnight to four am, just waiting for the next emergency to strike. I began to live in fear of leaving, what was coming next, and all of the things that creep into a mama's head when she is left to her own vices. I was streaming the news 24/7 as well, and watching youtube videos that were producing a less than fruitful harvest in my life. I was seeking my peace from the world, and the world had none to give. 

Last weekend, my family was going to start going back to the church in person. We have been watching online pretty much since April, but I felt checked in my spirit to let go of the fear that I was holding on to, and go. Not turn on my screen at home and tune in, but rather, go. Unfortunately, my husband had some work issues come up and we pushed our start backdate to today. A stomach bug hit our house over the weekend and just to play it safe, I went to church alone today. However, it wasn't before I battled demons all night, Saturday night. I was exhausted this morning, was cranky and unsupportive to my husband who already wasn't feeling good, and by the time I made it to church, I just sat and cried.

But, I worshipped. Somehow. 

Then and there, I threw myself at the foot of the cross where I barely had the words to cry out to God how sorry I was. How much I had missed him. How I had put my relationship with him in a tiny box that I could control based on my routine, instead of inviting him into every heartbreaking moment that had happened over the course of the last five months. The people I had lost. The internal struggle I had felt. The fear that hung over me. Fear that started off small, but would have reduced me to the shell of a person that God had saved me to be. Not because of who I was, but because of who he was. Yet, he beautifully reminded me that as I sank further to the floor, separated on that socially distanced altar, that he was right there beside me. That he had never left me, but that when I was weak and lacked the words to say to him, he knew my heart and still offered peace in the pandemic. 

There's so much more, and I plan to share it, but for now, I think I'll just leave this here. 

My God, how He loves us so. 

Encounter with God

Have you ever seen one of those videos where some person has had a horrible wreck and yet walked away from it alive? We look at the pictures and it just doesn't make sense. Sometimes the accident is so bad that it grabs media attention and witnesses describe what they saw. We listen to these stories and just can't wrap our minds around it, how someone could have survived so much trauma. Yet, these stories exist. 

Just last month, I watched a video of a woman whose car was smashed during an accident with a semi-trailer. I still to this day don't understand how that woman rose up out of her smashed vehicle and lifted her hands up to the sky to acknowledge that the only way she had survived was because of some divine intervention. To the dozen or so people on the scene that were watching (and a few filming) there was no denying that this woman had experienced a miracle. She had been saved from death. There was a celebratory yell from bystanders when she rose up and walked away from the scene of the accident. There was no denying that she had experienced something miraculous. 

Some of you reading this might know a little bit about me. You may have grown up with me. We may be cousins. You might be my dad (hi, dad). You may have met me at church. You may be my best friend. Or pastor. 

You may know that I am blessed to be married to the love of my life, have two wonderful sons, attend the same church that I was raised in, went to Florence Mattison elementary and graduated from Conway High School (class of '98, woohoo!). 

You may have previously heard my story, about how I struggled with self-worth from as far back as I can imagine, started drinking heavily while I was in high school, and then moved on to heavier addictions after that. You may know so much of this about me, but if you have missed the message of Christ in my life, then I am afraid that you don't know me at all. 

So many times have I talked myself out of airing my personal life.  I have clearly heard God whisper to me that I  need to speak out to those who may need to hear. So often have I used my platform to tell you about how amazing it is that God allows me to do missional work with the homeless of Conway, yet kept my mouth shut about why I am called to do what I do. How I see myself in so many of my brothers and sisters that are sleeping in stairwells and showing up for food each night. Each has their own story and while I won't deny that addiction and mental health are not prevalent in our society, they are no different among those who show up for dinner and those who sit in our churches on Sunday morning, for addiction and mental health affects everyone. 

I thank God for the fact that I have never been forced to eat from a garbage can because I just needed to survive for the day. During the hardest years when I knew my family wanted me to come home, I always knew that I could. I chose not to because I didn't want them to be disappointed in me. I have never questioned if I had a warm bed to sleep in because of the love of my family that prayed me home many times. But I do know what it was like to run and hide because of what my life had become. 

Thank God, it doesn't end there. I, too, walked away from an accident. I, too, lifted my arms in praise when I was found, and haven't put them back down since. I, too, found out what it means to know that I would go on living despite circumstances that could have easily had me sleeping on park benches like my unsheltered brothers and sisters. And I, too, hope that they all find hope in a God who yes, loves His flock, but still comes after the one. 

After all, I am the one, and he found me.

I fought back writing this because every time I get personal about my own life on social media, to be frank, I come under attack. Not from any flesh and bones, but from the one who would have me hang my head low and remind me that all I am is just someone who should have been thrown away. Then I remember how precious I am to the One who called my name. Who told a prodigal daughter that her life was paid for with a price and that she has a story of hope to share.

After Peter and John told the lame beggar to get up and walk in Jesus' Name (Acts 2 in the Bible), there was no denying that the man had changed. Where he laid on the sidewalk each day, there was no longer a person there. He was gone. Like the woman from the wreck, there was no denying that something had saved her life. She knew it. And when the religious folks asked Peter and John in whose name they had performed the healing of the lame man in and they declared "Jesus," there was no denying it. The name of Jesus is powerful, and I have experienced it. 

So forgive me if I can't sit quietly. But you see, I once wandered through a wilderness where my back was always against a wall. Now I have found freedom. My testimony is nothing to be embarrassed about, because it's no longer mine, rather the testament of an Almighty God who still performs miracles today. I just so happen to be one of them. The mistakes that I have made in the past can't be changed, but I will not allow them to silently wear down the truth that God has placed in my heart. 

I know that there will be others that will read this and need to know how precious they are to God. How you would probably look me in the eyes if we were sitting right in front of each other and say, "You don't know the things I've done." You're right, I don't. But I know the things I had done and through some miracle, I've been brought back to life. There is hope. He is Jesus. His love for you is incredible, for he already knows your name. It is precious to Him. He is calling you back home. 

Father, 

Thank you for loving us. Thank you for not giving up on us. Thank you for sending your son Jesus so that we could live life abundantly. I lift up the one reading this that needs to know you, too. May they lift up their hands and rejoice at the new life you have to offer to them, too. May all who encounter you walk away changed so that the whole world can undeniably declare your goodness.

Amen