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
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