I’ve talked about the conference I attended on the Holy Spirit. A lot. It made an impression. One sign of how big an impression happened the day after the conference, and that’s today’s tale.
I got an email a few hours after the conference stating those of us who attended could share our insights the next day during Sunday worship. In front of everyone. Now, my church isn’t huge, but that doesn’t matter. I struggle to talk in groups of three, so I saw the email, laughed it off, and went about my business.
Only I’m a blogger. A novelist. I have this thing about words. In my head I began to organize thoughts and create a short speech about what the weekend meant to me.
But I can’t stand up and say that, God. Are you kidding me?
What did you learn?
It doesn’t matter what I learned. I’ll have a panic attack. I can’t talk in front of everyone. There’s no way.
But what did you learn?
That you love me, always and forever, no matter what. That I’m a daughter. That you want to heal my life and use me.
Wait. Say that last part again.
That you want to heal my life?
Okay, okay. That you love me and and made me and, um, want to use me.
Fine. But it will be awful. I just want you to know that.
So, church rolled around the next day. I had gone over the gist of my story five thousand times. If I found the courage to stand up, I knew what I would say. Truth was, I had been moved that weekend. Set free. Held close. Hugged by the Spirit himself. And that’s the kind of thing a person is supposed to share.
The pastor asked if anyone who attended the conference wanted to share. A couple did. And then, with what has to be the biggest spiritual push in the history of the world, I was on my feet. I tried to look around without seeing anyone, but I saw some genuine surprise. And my husband–I could feel him startle beside me. Giraffes could have paraded down the aisle and startled him less. (The post image above makes more sense now, doesn’t it??) After I finished and sat down, he put his hand on my back, and it said Good for you. I had no idea you would do that, but I’m happy you did. And if you have a heart attack in the next five minutes, I’m here to catch you.
I have no clue what I said. The speech made sense in my head, so maybe I kept to the script and it made sense to those who heard it. Maybe it was mumbled gobbledygook. But I did it. And that, dear reader, is more miraculous than physical healing. It’s nearly as miraculous as walking on water.
After service a few people thanked me for saying something. They are my family. They knew I had climbed out of my comfort zone. I’d entered a zone several galaxies off center. Maybe, if what I said made sense, the fact that it came from me, the silent girl, increased the impact of what I had to say. Regardless, it wasn’t awful. I didn’t die or make a fool of myself. The Spirit told me I was a daughter and he loved me. Then the body hugged me and shook my hand and agreed.
I am not moving on to the spiritual speaking circuit any time soon. But I’m starting to understand what it means to let God heal me and love me and use me. It’s rough sometimes. God doesn’t make it easy because the enemy doesn’t make it easy, and this is a kingdom at war. But it’s good. I don’t feel as much fear any more about sharing what’s happening in my spirit, in my life, in my walk. I’d rather do it with a couple friends or in a digital capacity where nobody has a face, but it’s good to know whatever he asks, he gives encouragement and pushes to make it possible. He’ll never drop me in a situation and leave me. He has my back, sometimes literally with the touch of a loving husband, sometimes spiritually. But he doesn’t leave me alone when I do what he asks, and that’s good enough for me.