Sunday, 19 April 2009

• Currently In the Wee Small Hours By Frank Sinatra see related

  Taken, Blessed, Broken, Shared

  Jesus was taken and blessed. He was broken for us, so that the debt of our transgressions may be erased and that God’s boundless love for us may be shared.

  I am chosen and blessed. I was led through darkness, only so that I may learn to share what I have.

  It is only through brokenness that things may be shared.

  Brokenness in itself isn’t such a bad thing.

  Last weekend at Easter Conference set me on an amazing journey up a steep learning curve and it just goes to show that if God wants to speak to you, there’s no set way in which he’s going to do so. Although I wasn’t a part of the main conference, being a leader in the children’s program, God used what I was doing and where I was to meet with me.

  One thing I learnt about myself this weekend is that I’m not good at asking for help. This may come as a surprise to some who know me and are reading this, but seriously, I’ve never quite clocked onto this minuté aspect of my character. I just put it down to maybe a slight over-confidence (which I know isn’t exactly nice either); however, the appearance of confidence appears to arise from the fact that I’m terrible at asking for help. I much prefer to sort my problems out myself and when it gets all a bit too much for me to handle, I bury the problem deep down so that I don’t have to deal with it. I pretend that everything is fine. That much has been evident in my blogs lately.

  Near the end of the celebration service on Saturday evening, everyone was invited to come to the front of the chapel to be prayed for by one of the leaders. The last time I attended a service where prayer was offered to everyone in such an open manner was a couple of months ago, when I had been feeling pretty miserable. The last time, I’d stayed pretty much glued to my seat whilst everyone else on my row got up at some point to pray with someone else (whether in praise or for intervention). The last time, I felt unable to tell my problems to someone I didn’t know, or rather, someone who didn’t know me, and to be prayed for by them. I told myself that my problems were too messy, what would people think of me if I told them that I was just pretending to be OK, I don’t need someone to intervene for me… What a fool I was. Wallowing in self-pity stopped me from realising that I needed to ask for help and that I was too proud to ask for it.

  This time was different. Recent experience had already taught me how deep hurt runs in my life and I knew already that I really do need prayer, and yet, through the fear of standing up in amongst hundreds of people to ask for help a verse came to me, which we had read in our morning group devotion: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” – Joshua 1:9. God’s voice was both an encouragement and a command to Joshua in the context of the passage as it was to me, sitting in the chapel that night.

  If you read the first chapter of the book of Joshua, you will find that God tells the chosen leader of the Israelites to “be strong and courageous” a total of 4 times in the short space of 17 verses. It seems even mighty warrior leaders chosen by God to do great things also need reminding of the divine assurance we have in God let alone us normal mortals. Have I not commanded you? Not only are we encouraged to trust in His faithfulness to provide and guide us, but it is imperative that we do so.

  The devotion notes from that morning sums up my thoughts at that moment rather nicely, which say “it is good to recognise our own limitations, [for] only when we have an awareness of our own personal inadequacy that we can fully appreciate the assurance of the divine sufficiency”.

  As I stood there near the front of the chapel, waiting for a person to become available to pray for me and still rather nervous about sharing my broken heart with some stranger, God came through for me. He showed me just how faithful he was and how he would never make me do anything that he knew I couldn’t achieve. Through the small crowd of laughing, sobbing people, I saw Aunty Ann smile and beckon to me. I almost felt God’s smile shine through hers, smiling at my doubt and fear. It’s OK, I’m here. Do you really think I would abandon you when I'd promised to guide and protect you?

  I think I cried a lot that night (my memories of what happened after being prayed for are a little fuzzy). I don’t cry, not publically…I’m not really a public emotions sort of person. I’m sorry if I confused people at the time or made friends overly concerned. I was just feeling a little broken. I think I’m better now.

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