God Is Amazing

Sundays had become almost routine. I know it's horrible to say, but it's true. We all go through our valleys, and I was definitely in one. Life's troubles, worries, anxiety, and relational conflict had slowly built up a wall between me and God. Suddenly I found myself lost (again), wandering aimlessly from ministry to ministry doing my day to day tasks (tasks! shame!) and going through the motions: acknowledging God with a polite "prayer nod" once in awhile. I couldn't understand why everything such a mess in my head until I headed out on my first "ministry for credit" venture for school this past Saturday when it happened: God knocked me off my feet, on my rear, and taught me an invaluable lesson: He simply said, "I AM".

My school's main focus is urban ministry. So it was only natural that when we got there Saturday morning for our first practicum of the semester, that we were ushered right out the door with flyers. Our mission: to hit the streets and tell the local residents about the free clinic, hot lunch and groceries we were offering them at school, as well as all of the programs that are offered on a weekly basis: Royal Rangers, Missionettes, grief and family counseling, work cooperatives, etc. The catch: (there's never a catch in ministry, but at the particular moment that my feet hit the pavement, I saw it as a catch) the streets that we were about to roam were, well, kind of rough. Scary. Scary for me anyway (think sheltered suburban girl, with very limited experience with anything "ghetto").

So, I deliberately partner up with the biggest guy in our class (and the most tattooed up. Hey! It gives him an intimidation factor!). Anyway, Scott and I and another guy Mike (not so much with the intimidation factor Mike, sorry buddy!) headed out in search of lost souls and empty little bellies. The first few times we approached people, my legs turned to Jell-O each and every time: until we got to a house where there were two guys (couldn't look more rough and angry if they tried) sitting on the porch with an older man. Scott and Mike approached them, and without cracking a smile, the "rough guys" listened to what we had to say (I think I stopped breathing at one point, I was so scared), and then... politely thanked us for telling them about our organization. (Huh?) Then it happened: They called out thier mom so she could hear what we had to say. The minute she appeared at the front door, I could have just wept. She was in clothes older than dirt, and she was beaten, bruised, scraped, and scarred. And this is her life. And there was nothing that I could do for this woman but pray. I realized at that moment that no one had shot me. No one had so much as raised a hand or raised thier voice at me. They just wanted to be loved on: and everyone saw something in us that they wanted, just as badly as I wanted to give it to them. But it's nothing that I can "give". It's something that they need to open thier hearts to and recieve. That's what we were there for. To help spread the Good News- and they were loving it!

We took a break, and went back out later with a group that came down into the city from a youth retreat, which, oddly enough had been held at my church. So, I knew a bunch of the kids that we were ministering with that day. So, Scott, a few girls from my church and I headed back out for round two: this time with flyers, garbage bags, and a mission to clean up the streets. Everything went so very well. We talked with some people, prayed with some people, and made the city a little prettier: one city block at a time.

The greatest part of this story (aside from God knocking down walls, barriers, and stereotypes in my mind left and right) begins with a woman named Marjorie. While I was running back for more garbage bags, Majorie apparently stopped Scott and my friend Rachel to ask them what they were doing and what our group was about. Marjorie is a 50-something drug addict - with a heart the size of Texas. She started chatting them up, and when I got back with more supplies, I joined the conversation with no idea that God was about to show His face in a very real way. Before we knew what hit us, Marjorie was beginning to tell us about her life, her drug addictions, and her relationship with God. This woman knew the word. She had serious faith. But she was struggling. And for as long as I live, I'll never forget this: she stopped, began to cry and said, "It says in the Word that when two or more come together, prayers will be heard and answered. Will you all pray for me?" YES YES YES PLEASE!!! Now, I'm not one to just offer to pray for someone: Not that I don't want to pray for someone, but it's the whole praying out loud thing. I just... get nervous. It's been getting better lately, but not great. But when Marjorie asked for prayer, I was more than happy to do it. And let me tell you, the Holy Spirit worked in that circle unlike anything I had seen in quite some time. The words that were coming out of my mouth were not my own, and God was speaking into this hurting soul's heart. My prayer almost literally brought her to her knees (talk about God breaking down barriers: "Yes Stephanie, contrary to what you think you're capable of, you can pray for others. Don't worry, I'll be there. Just remember: I AM") Rachel continued on with prayer and I lost it. Scott and Rachel both wept. When we finished, Marjorie went around and hugged each and every one of us, asked us to remember her always, and keep her in our prayers. There is no question Miss Marjorie, you surely will be on my heart and in my prayers daily- I'll never forget you. Just remember and believe that God can lift you up and bring you out of any situation, turn your life around, give you a second chance, and a new perspective on life. He did for me- and he did it in the most unsuspecting way. That's just how God works. And God's work is truly AMAZING.