I wonder...
If I were to heat myself up in a microwave, would I gain superpowers?!?
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Twenty Questions - By Elisabeth Elliot
About a month or so back I read "Let Me Be A Woman" by Elisabeth Elliot. This book is amazing in every sense of the word. Due to certain events, and just life in general, really, my mind had been on the wonders and mysteries of marriage, roles of husband and wife, etc. I guess I had always had some idea of what I thought my role would be as a wife - these ideas being shaped by the home environment I was raised in, the different influences that pressed upon me in my life, and so many other ways. I don't really have the same views, and some have definitely changed quite drastically, whilst others not-so-much. But in her book, Elliot posed these twenty questions to her daughter Val when she (Val) had been trying to define and sort out her feelings when she was in a pretty deep relationship with her now-present fiancé. I think they're good questions to ponder if a person is looking into entering a relationship (or is in one) and needs help in regards to sorting out some of the questions in their mind.
1) Is this the man you want to spend the rest of your life with? That's every day of every week of every month of every year from now till one of you dies.
2) Is he:
punctual or habitually late?
orderly or disorderly?
a reader or a TV watcher?
an outdoor man or an indoor man?
3) Does he:
like your family?
treat you as you think a woman out to be treated?
have men friends?
have approximately the same education you have?
like the kind of food you like to cook?
come from a home similar to yours?
like your friends?
like to entertain, and would you be proud to have him as a host at the
other end of the table?
laugh at the same jokes you do?
4) Can you agree on:
sex?
in-laws?
children and their training?
money?
your respective roles in the home?
1) Is this the man you want to spend the rest of your life with? That's every day of every week of every month of every year from now till one of you dies.
2) Is he:
punctual or habitually late?
orderly or disorderly?
a reader or a TV watcher?
an outdoor man or an indoor man?
3) Does he:
like your family?
treat you as you think a woman out to be treated?
have men friends?
have approximately the same education you have?
like the kind of food you like to cook?
come from a home similar to yours?
like your friends?
like to entertain, and would you be proud to have him as a host at the
other end of the table?
laugh at the same jokes you do?
4) Can you agree on:
sex?
in-laws?
children and their training?
money?
your respective roles in the home?
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
A Morning's Story Thought
It all started out innocently enough. Just another usual morning, like every other morning. Only this morning my sister was with me.
I usually go for coffee a couple mornings a week at our city's health-food store. Up until 8 am they have all drinks half-off, and I like to take advantage of that. I only wish I hadn't gone this morning.
It happened on the way there. On the way there! I can't bear to think of it, but I muse, for I know getting it all out will help. Somehow.
We were on our way to the store. It was around 7.30 when we left. I was driving and my sister was in the passengers seat.
I was at the intersection of Juniper and 5th. This was always the one hard intersection to cross, as it had three streets connected to it - at least, in the way I was going.
I myself was on a two way street. In order to reach my next point, I had to cross another two-way street, immediately turn left to cross a one-way street and then continue on my way.
I don't know why it happened...how it happened. I looked everywhere. It was clear at all intersections. But as I was crossing the first street, this truck to my right came speeding up out of nowhere! And when I looked ahead to the one-way street, a car was about to pass right in front of me!
Time seemed to slow down. I didn't know what to do. Should I speed up to avoid the speeding truck to save my sisters life and risk killing the people in the car in front of me? Or should I slam the breaks to save those in front of me and kill my sister. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do!!!
But my sister did. "Hit the breaks!" she screamed. And so I did. I didn't even pause to think about it. The truck hit us. Hard.
The next thing I know, I'm waking up. Not even a bruise on me. But my sister - oh God! my sister - I shudder every time I remember what I saw. You couldn't even recognize her. How I regret listening to her.
She meant well; she meant to save the lives of the vehicle in front of us. She was always watching out for others rather than herself. But now she's dead, and it's all my fault.
...
It had been months since the accident. The funeral had come and gone. Now she was just a mere memory away from existence.
I was just walking out of a grocery store, when a strange lady stopped me.
"Excuse me?" she said, hesitantly.
"Yes?" I replied.
"Are...are you the young man who's sister died in a car crash a few months back? The crash at the Juniper and 5th intersection?"
"I am."
"Oh. I...I wanted to tell you, well, thank you. I don't know what made you decide to stop instead of running into the car ahead of you...but that decision...it...it save the lives of my children and I. We were in the vehicle in front of you."
I said nothing. I just stood there, amazed at the possibilities of actually meeting a person who was almost involved in the accident. It was so unlikely of happening, yet it was.
"Well, anyways... I'm sorry about your loss. I truly am. I just wanted to thank you for giving my children a second chance to live." And with that, she left.
My sister is still dead. Nothing can change that. But knowing that she gave up her one life for the lives of multiple people somehow lessens the pain. And with time, I know that the healing process will help soothe the wounds of hurt as well.
(21.6.2011)
I usually go for coffee a couple mornings a week at our city's health-food store. Up until 8 am they have all drinks half-off, and I like to take advantage of that. I only wish I hadn't gone this morning.
It happened on the way there. On the way there! I can't bear to think of it, but I muse, for I know getting it all out will help. Somehow.
We were on our way to the store. It was around 7.30 when we left. I was driving and my sister was in the passengers seat.
I was at the intersection of Juniper and 5th. This was always the one hard intersection to cross, as it had three streets connected to it - at least, in the way I was going.
I myself was on a two way street. In order to reach my next point, I had to cross another two-way street, immediately turn left to cross a one-way street and then continue on my way.
I don't know why it happened...how it happened. I looked everywhere. It was clear at all intersections. But as I was crossing the first street, this truck to my right came speeding up out of nowhere! And when I looked ahead to the one-way street, a car was about to pass right in front of me!
Time seemed to slow down. I didn't know what to do. Should I speed up to avoid the speeding truck to save my sisters life and risk killing the people in the car in front of me? Or should I slam the breaks to save those in front of me and kill my sister. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do!!!
But my sister did. "Hit the breaks!" she screamed. And so I did. I didn't even pause to think about it. The truck hit us. Hard.
The next thing I know, I'm waking up. Not even a bruise on me. But my sister - oh God! my sister - I shudder every time I remember what I saw. You couldn't even recognize her. How I regret listening to her.
She meant well; she meant to save the lives of the vehicle in front of us. She was always watching out for others rather than herself. But now she's dead, and it's all my fault.
...
It had been months since the accident. The funeral had come and gone. Now she was just a mere memory away from existence.
I was just walking out of a grocery store, when a strange lady stopped me.
"Excuse me?" she said, hesitantly.
"Yes?" I replied.
"Are...are you the young man who's sister died in a car crash a few months back? The crash at the Juniper and 5th intersection?"
"I am."
"Oh. I...I wanted to tell you, well, thank you. I don't know what made you decide to stop instead of running into the car ahead of you...but that decision...it...it save the lives of my children and I. We were in the vehicle in front of you."
I said nothing. I just stood there, amazed at the possibilities of actually meeting a person who was almost involved in the accident. It was so unlikely of happening, yet it was.
"Well, anyways... I'm sorry about your loss. I truly am. I just wanted to thank you for giving my children a second chance to live." And with that, she left.
My sister is still dead. Nothing can change that. But knowing that she gave up her one life for the lives of multiple people somehow lessens the pain. And with time, I know that the healing process will help soothe the wounds of hurt as well.
(21.6.2011)
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Listen
I've been doing a lot of reading lately. Both fiction, and non. Books by classic, wise authors like A.W. Tozer, Elisabeth Elliot, C.S. Lewis, C.H. Spurgeon, E.M Bounds. The knowledge bug has gone and bit me.
I usually read three or so books at a time. And no, I have no trouble keeping them apart. One that I recently started (and am almost finished with) is titled The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey. It's interesting enough, I suppose, but I have a better formula than the one he's providing (although that's not to say that his formula is potentially workable). I'm reading this book because, the way I see it, almost anything I read can give me insight into something. Also, my uncle gave me the book for my high school graduation, and I figure I should read it because he gave it to me. Besides, it's a book. Enough said.
In reading the section about Habit 5 - "Seek first to understand, than to be understood" - he made mention of some really good points. Things that I knew, but things he was able to put into words pretty decently. Covey stated that "the deepest need of the human heart is to be understood." He then launches into ways on how most people typically listen to others (aka, Five Poor Listening Styles), and then gives advice on how to better listen. In this section though, he included two poems that I'd like to share with you, because both of them describe how I have felt far too often a lot of times during my life.
The first (and more significant one):
I usually read three or so books at a time. And no, I have no trouble keeping them apart. One that I recently started (and am almost finished with) is titled The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens by Sean Covey. It's interesting enough, I suppose, but I have a better formula than the one he's providing (although that's not to say that his formula is potentially workable). I'm reading this book because, the way I see it, almost anything I read can give me insight into something. Also, my uncle gave me the book for my high school graduation, and I figure I should read it because he gave it to me. Besides, it's a book. Enough said.
In reading the section about Habit 5 - "Seek first to understand, than to be understood" - he made mention of some really good points. Things that I knew, but things he was able to put into words pretty decently. Covey stated that "the deepest need of the human heart is to be understood." He then launches into ways on how most people typically listen to others (aka, Five Poor Listening Styles), and then gives advice on how to better listen. In this section though, he included two poems that I'd like to share with you, because both of them describe how I have felt far too often a lot of times during my life.
The first (and more significant one):
PLEASE LISTEN
When I ask you to listen to me
and you start giving me advice,
you have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me
and you begin to tell me why
I shouldn't feel that way,
you are trampling on my feelings.
When I ask you to listen to me
and you feel you have to do something
to solve my problem,
you have failed me,
strange as it may seem.
Listen! All I ask is that you listen.
Don't talk or do - just hear me.
The second (and slightly less significant, but significant nonetheless):
PLEASE...HEAR WHAT I'M NOT SAYING
Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the mask I wear. For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that is second nature with me.
...I give the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness is my game; that the waters are calm and that I'm in command and I need no one. But don't believe it; please don't.
I Idly chatter with you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing, nothing of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine, don't be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying; what I'd like to be able to say; what, for survival, I need to say but I can't say. I dislike the hiding. Honestly I do. I dislike the superficial phony games I'm playing.
I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me. You have to help me by holding out your hand, even when that's the last thing I seem to want or need. Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings. Very small wings. Very feeble wings. But wings. With your sensitivity and sympathy and your power of understanding, I can make it. You can breathe life into me. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. But love is stronger than strong walls, and therein lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands, for a child is very sensitive, and I am a child.
Who am I, you may wonder. For I am every man, every woman, every child...every human you meet.
I'd like to consider myself a good listener. However, it seems as if I have trouble getting people to listen to me...both the words I speak and the words I'm saying without speaking them. I can't tell you the countless times where people have been talking to me, or asked me a question, and when I begin to respond to them, they turn around and begin to speak to someone else. It's been excruciatingly frustrating for me, but its happened so often, I've grown used to it.
And it's not only being ignored upon responding to someone. It's also been when I'm talking to someone, I'm not done with my sentence or string of thoughts, and they interrupt me. Maybe they think I'm done. Or maybe they feel the need to say what they have to say before they forget it. But this is also something that's happened all too often to me. But, it's something that I'm used to.
I've gone back and fourth on the idea if I should speak up about my treatment or not. It can be taken to be disrespectful. And sometimes if I think about it too much, I let it begin to control my thoughts. I get frustrated that people who are friends and family, say they love and respect me but don't show it by how they treat me. Actions speak louder than words and I know the very essence of that truth.
However, despite all the 'should I or should I not speak up about this?' I don't think it's that big of a deal. There are bigger thing in my life that need effort and time than this situation.
Despite all of that rambling though, please. Listen. Not only to me, but to everyone around you.
For their sake.
I'd really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me. You have to help me by holding out your hand, even when that's the last thing I seem to want or need. Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings. Very small wings. Very feeble wings. But wings. With your sensitivity and sympathy and your power of understanding, I can make it. You can breathe life into me. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. But love is stronger than strong walls, and therein lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gentle hands, for a child is very sensitive, and I am a child.
Who am I, you may wonder. For I am every man, every woman, every child...every human you meet.
I'd like to consider myself a good listener. However, it seems as if I have trouble getting people to listen to me...both the words I speak and the words I'm saying without speaking them. I can't tell you the countless times where people have been talking to me, or asked me a question, and when I begin to respond to them, they turn around and begin to speak to someone else. It's been excruciatingly frustrating for me, but its happened so often, I've grown used to it.
And it's not only being ignored upon responding to someone. It's also been when I'm talking to someone, I'm not done with my sentence or string of thoughts, and they interrupt me. Maybe they think I'm done. Or maybe they feel the need to say what they have to say before they forget it. But this is also something that's happened all too often to me. But, it's something that I'm used to.
I've gone back and fourth on the idea if I should speak up about my treatment or not. It can be taken to be disrespectful. And sometimes if I think about it too much, I let it begin to control my thoughts. I get frustrated that people who are friends and family, say they love and respect me but don't show it by how they treat me. Actions speak louder than words and I know the very essence of that truth.
However, despite all the 'should I or should I not speak up about this?' I don't think it's that big of a deal. There are bigger thing in my life that need effort and time than this situation.
Despite all of that rambling though, please. Listen. Not only to me, but to everyone around you.
For their sake.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Life Allegory I
The days seemed to go by so fast when I was with you. They were filled with laughter, sunshine, long walks, words, affections. We grew so close in such a short amount of time; you were the kind of friend I had never had before.
Each moment spent with you I held dear. Every word exchanged, every smile shared, every touch - all treasured, all remembered. None of it, however, a sign of what was to come.
It happened subtly at first. Not to where I could even notice. Just a quick glance or two in their direction. But then those glances led to other things.
Soon they were included when we spent time together. It was no longer you and I. It was you, them, and myself.
Shortly after that, they were let in on the jokes, on the smiles, on the laughs. I didn't mind that so much. Sometimes they were a part of those things; those memories and experiences. It didn't stop there, though.
You would always hold my hand. You would always lean on me. But soon you occasionally leaned on them. And the first time you held their hand...I remember that time. I still remember the shock, the pain.
Your attention and devotion was now divided between myself and them. As time moved on, so did you.
More and more you spent your time focused on them. You told them everything like you used to tell me. You laughed about the same things, shared those secret smiles, gave your hand for them to hold.
Your world centered around them; and their world centered around you...just like my world was. But I was no longer in the foreground of the picture. I was just another shadow; another background filler.
And when I finally faded away into the distance, you didn't even notice...
Each moment spent with you I held dear. Every word exchanged, every smile shared, every touch - all treasured, all remembered. None of it, however, a sign of what was to come.
It happened subtly at first. Not to where I could even notice. Just a quick glance or two in their direction. But then those glances led to other things.
Soon they were included when we spent time together. It was no longer you and I. It was you, them, and myself.
Shortly after that, they were let in on the jokes, on the smiles, on the laughs. I didn't mind that so much. Sometimes they were a part of those things; those memories and experiences. It didn't stop there, though.
You would always hold my hand. You would always lean on me. But soon you occasionally leaned on them. And the first time you held their hand...I remember that time. I still remember the shock, the pain.
Your attention and devotion was now divided between myself and them. As time moved on, so did you.
More and more you spent your time focused on them. You told them everything like you used to tell me. You laughed about the same things, shared those secret smiles, gave your hand for them to hold.
Your world centered around them; and their world centered around you...just like my world was. But I was no longer in the foreground of the picture. I was just another shadow; another background filler.
And when I finally faded away into the distance, you didn't even notice...
Monday, 16 May 2011
Distraught Happiness
Here. Being here at my home-away-from-home. I'm happy to be here. Walking around, recalling so many memories...both good and bad. Such a bittersweet recollection of a plethora of images.
But being here bring the feeling of distress. Knowing that I have to leave again. Not knowing when I'll see people again. That is the hard part. That is what hurts.
Sometimes I wish my memory wasn't so good. I wish my mind couldn't recall images so vividly, replay such strong emotions, or anything else associated with memory.
There are things I wish I could forget. Events and seasons that I don't want to remember. Why? Because there are memories to me that are too disgusting, too shameful, too painful, too stupid, too ridiculous. Why would I want to remember those things?
And just like what is going on right now. It seems like last time I was here I struggled with this. Of course, there was a different person involved. But same person or not, the feelings have a similar feel to them. And I hate them.
I was stupid enough last time to believe that this was real. I'm smart enough this time to know it's not. If there ever came a point in my life where I would be ready for something like this, it definitely is not now. It most definitely won't be for at least another two years. At least.
Last time this happened there was a lot of turmoil, heartache, distraction. I know now that those feelings should have been an obvious sign that it was not from God. Just like this. This is not from my Father. I'm not ready for this, it's not right, it's never going to happen.
I only want my focus to be on God. Not on something like this - even if this is something that might occur in the future. I want to be so captivated by Jesus that if this were to ever take place in my life, He would have to do something radical to wake me up and point me in this direction.
But now is not the time. This is not the one. There is still so much to be done, so much to be accomplished, so much to learn, so much to mature and grow in, before this would ever happen.
If I allow any distraction in my life, I want God to distract me from Himself. No other thing and no other person should be able to distract me if my focus is so intent on God like it should be and like I want it to be.
Jesus, heal my heart. Captivate it. Take it and lock it away.
I only want eyes for You...
But being here bring the feeling of distress. Knowing that I have to leave again. Not knowing when I'll see people again. That is the hard part. That is what hurts.
Sometimes I wish my memory wasn't so good. I wish my mind couldn't recall images so vividly, replay such strong emotions, or anything else associated with memory.
There are things I wish I could forget. Events and seasons that I don't want to remember. Why? Because there are memories to me that are too disgusting, too shameful, too painful, too stupid, too ridiculous. Why would I want to remember those things?
And just like what is going on right now. It seems like last time I was here I struggled with this. Of course, there was a different person involved. But same person or not, the feelings have a similar feel to them. And I hate them.
I was stupid enough last time to believe that this was real. I'm smart enough this time to know it's not. If there ever came a point in my life where I would be ready for something like this, it definitely is not now. It most definitely won't be for at least another two years. At least.
Last time this happened there was a lot of turmoil, heartache, distraction. I know now that those feelings should have been an obvious sign that it was not from God. Just like this. This is not from my Father. I'm not ready for this, it's not right, it's never going to happen.
I only want my focus to be on God. Not on something like this - even if this is something that might occur in the future. I want to be so captivated by Jesus that if this were to ever take place in my life, He would have to do something radical to wake me up and point me in this direction.
But now is not the time. This is not the one. There is still so much to be done, so much to be accomplished, so much to learn, so much to mature and grow in, before this would ever happen.
If I allow any distraction in my life, I want God to distract me from Himself. No other thing and no other person should be able to distract me if my focus is so intent on God like it should be and like I want it to be.
Jesus, heal my heart. Captivate it. Take it and lock it away.
I only want eyes for You...
Sunday, 1 May 2011
I Love Indians!
- You are immune to bondage, to the power of darkness, to backsliding.
- Don't go back to the old ways, but go out and win souls!
- What can separate us from the love of God?
On Friday night, I went to an international home fellowship. It took place here in Oklahoma. My sister has attended it for the past few years that she has gone to school here. The majority of the people there were Indians.
The man who spoke was incredible. He was the father of one of the regulars who attend the fellowship, and - I believe - was visiting from India. This man was in direct alignment with God. What he spoke hit home for me...it reached the very depths of my soul.
If it has not been obvious, I've been struggling lately. What with all the changes that have taken place in my life for the past few weeks, and not disciplining myself to keep my focus first and foremost on God, things have gone kind of downhill. I allowed myself to fall back into old habits, old ways of thinking, old excuses - and I even fell back into resorting to cutting for wanting to feel in control. And that, was wrong.
The man who spoke taught on grace and God's faithfulness. Two themes that have run very deep within my life for the past half year at least. The things he said were speaking to my heart in such a revolutionary way - Jesus placed me in the right place at the right time.
While he was talking, I realized something. Even though I felt as though I had failed, that I possibly fell back and destroyed my delieverance, I knew that I hadn't. How? Well, it wasn't because I wasn't struggling with feeling as though I was struggling with depression again. It was because of the evidence that I am no longer a "roller-coaster" Christian. In the past, I would get excited about things, pumped up by circumstances or events. But that excitement soon died for one reason or another. Now, though, when things happen in my spiritual life that I get excited about, the excitement, the fervor, sticks. It doesn't fade away. And God was showing me that because of this so-obvious evidence, I have not fallen back. That I am still free.
At the end of the talk, they had a time open for people who wanted prayer. While a guy played guitar, the man who spoke stood and prayed for each person who came up. After the first few people, I felt like I should go up to him; not only that, I knew I needed to. I needed to.
And so, I did. When I first went up there, the presence of God was strong. So strong, in fact, that I felt like crying. Then the man began praying for me. And what he said - my God, what he said - was exactly from You. It was exactly from my Father. It was exactly what I needed to hear.
Some of the most vital things that he said, were these:
"Don't forget what you've been delievered from."
"Keep moving forward - don't fall backward."
"Stay in the will of God."
"Let praise come out of my mouth."
I couldn't hold back the tears. When he finished praying, I headed back to my seat, and let the tears fall even more freely. My sister, who was sitting next to me, rubbed my back as I sobbed. As always, my Father proved to yet again be faithful as He always is. My Father spoke to me exactly what I needed to hear, at the right time that I needed to hear it.
I was encouraged. I was reminded that He knows me. I was comforted to hear His direct words being spoken to me.
I tell you, after having a lack of good, solid Christian fellowship and encouragement for a little over a month, it was good to be back in such an environment as that. I am so grateful that God can work through whomever He choses to speak to His children. That in the place when I felt the most weak, the most discouraged, the most lost, He reminded me that He knows me, is looking out for me, and loves me.
And I tell you, that is the most amazing thing in the world.
"If we are faithless, He remains faithful; He cannot deny Himself."
- 2 Timothy 2.13
- Don't go back to the old ways, but go out and win souls!
- What can separate us from the love of God?
On Friday night, I went to an international home fellowship. It took place here in Oklahoma. My sister has attended it for the past few years that she has gone to school here. The majority of the people there were Indians.
The man who spoke was incredible. He was the father of one of the regulars who attend the fellowship, and - I believe - was visiting from India. This man was in direct alignment with God. What he spoke hit home for me...it reached the very depths of my soul.
If it has not been obvious, I've been struggling lately. What with all the changes that have taken place in my life for the past few weeks, and not disciplining myself to keep my focus first and foremost on God, things have gone kind of downhill. I allowed myself to fall back into old habits, old ways of thinking, old excuses - and I even fell back into resorting to cutting for wanting to feel in control. And that, was wrong.
The man who spoke taught on grace and God's faithfulness. Two themes that have run very deep within my life for the past half year at least. The things he said were speaking to my heart in such a revolutionary way - Jesus placed me in the right place at the right time.
While he was talking, I realized something. Even though I felt as though I had failed, that I possibly fell back and destroyed my delieverance, I knew that I hadn't. How? Well, it wasn't because I wasn't struggling with feeling as though I was struggling with depression again. It was because of the evidence that I am no longer a "roller-coaster" Christian. In the past, I would get excited about things, pumped up by circumstances or events. But that excitement soon died for one reason or another. Now, though, when things happen in my spiritual life that I get excited about, the excitement, the fervor, sticks. It doesn't fade away. And God was showing me that because of this so-obvious evidence, I have not fallen back. That I am still free.
At the end of the talk, they had a time open for people who wanted prayer. While a guy played guitar, the man who spoke stood and prayed for each person who came up. After the first few people, I felt like I should go up to him; not only that, I knew I needed to. I needed to.
And so, I did. When I first went up there, the presence of God was strong. So strong, in fact, that I felt like crying. Then the man began praying for me. And what he said - my God, what he said - was exactly from You. It was exactly from my Father. It was exactly what I needed to hear.
Some of the most vital things that he said, were these:
"Don't forget what you've been delievered from."
"Keep moving forward - don't fall backward."
"Stay in the will of God."
"Let praise come out of my mouth."
I couldn't hold back the tears. When he finished praying, I headed back to my seat, and let the tears fall even more freely. My sister, who was sitting next to me, rubbed my back as I sobbed. As always, my Father proved to yet again be faithful as He always is. My Father spoke to me exactly what I needed to hear, at the right time that I needed to hear it.
I was encouraged. I was reminded that He knows me. I was comforted to hear His direct words being spoken to me.
I tell you, after having a lack of good, solid Christian fellowship and encouragement for a little over a month, it was good to be back in such an environment as that. I am so grateful that God can work through whomever He choses to speak to His children. That in the place when I felt the most weak, the most discouraged, the most lost, He reminded me that He knows me, is looking out for me, and loves me.
And I tell you, that is the most amazing thing in the world.
"If we are faithless, He remains faithful; He cannot deny Himself."
- 2 Timothy 2.13
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