Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Hands and Feet

Sunday, our worship leaders almost changed the set list for me. Planned before our news, they had anticipated doing one of my favorite Christy Nockels songs, Waiting Here For You. If you don’t know know it, you should hear it. And in light of my last post, they knew, I have been waiting on God. To show up, to rescue, to explain. Something… The first verses say it so eloquently. I’m glad they didn’t change songs, because I think it was good to know others utter the same words, God, I am here, waiting on You to show me.

If faith can move the mountains
Let the mountains move
We come with expectation
Waiting here for You

You're the Lord of all creation
And still you know my heart
The Author of Salvation 
You've loved us from the start

Waiting here for You
With our hands lifted high in praise
And it's You we adore
Singing Alleluia

In my prayers for God to “show up,” I think I was asking some big old guy to come to me in my dreams in thunder and lightning and speak my name, tell me His plan, and wrap me in His arms. Perhaps a burning bush? An angel to say Behold and clarify that this was all in His mighty will for great things to come? I don’t know what I was thinking. 

Instead of Old Testament like visions, God has shown up, but in ways I did not even consider:

Like a dear friend driving for hours to sit with me at Panera and hear the horrible things I’ve thought and wished and felt. To hear the sad truths. And ready to tackle the stacks of maternity clothes if I couldn’t. 
Like a sweet offer from another friend to pamper me and let her do my hair. Because it’s how she shows love.
Like countless messages on Facebook from old high school friends, friends I haven’t seen since freshman year of college, friends of friends I barely know, all speaking words of encouragement, offering up prayer, and reminding me that I am strong enough to go through this.
Like my mama showing up to clean my house, armed with every cleaner and spray you can find.
Like ladies from church coming to love on me, armed with feel-better-goodies and hugs. Because that’s a southern girl’s way of saying I love you and I’m sorry.
Like deacons showing up to have a word of prayer with Jake, to hear his worries for me and his grief as a dad. To lift him up and encourage him.
It’s in the cards, the text, the calls. The gorgeous flower arrangements delivered to my door. It’s the prayers I feel around me.

I forget that we are not in the Promised Land. I forget that we don’t need to have God appear before us in some burning bush because He is WITHIN us. He’s not out in the clouds somewhere. HE IS HERE. In a way, I feel a little dumb. Bare with me - I’m gonna walk you through some scripture that woke me up today.
Throughout all of my miscarriages, the scripture that Jake and I wrote on all of our mirrors in expo marker, the verse I said over and over in my head each time I was wheeled into the operating room to rid my womb of a lifeless child, was Romans 8:28. It gave me hope, even when I didn’t understand. But silly me forgot to read the rest of the chapter. I’ve been reading Romans 8 for a long time with the eyes of mother whom was blessed by a child through the miracle of adoption and honed in on the verses 14-17: For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought
about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.
I can’t believe I have never thought about this from any other angle. I knew I was His child, but the part about sharing in Dad’s sufferings AND His glory missed me. 

I have also forgotten verse 10 and 11: But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin (or in my case, the death of my growing child- in other words, because we live in a fallen world, death still happens here), the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.

The chapter goes on to remind us  “…that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us - man, I can’t imagine that - (verse 18)”  and that the Spirit helps us in our weakness (True story). We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.  And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. (verse 26-27).

To conclude, since my surgery yesterday, I have realized that I don’t have to keep waiting for God appear before me and help. Yes, to understand and make sense of all of this, I will wait. Because I won’t get it until someday when I can finally claim my spot as His heir and child and receive that glory. But until then, His Spirit is here around me, and I see His hands and feet in the love of my brothers and sisters in Christ, in those who have picked up the shards of my life and have helped me begin gluing in all back together. 


So thanks, y’all. For showing me His love.

2 comments:

Steve Finnell said...
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Melissa said...

I love you & your honesty! This is a beautiful post. I also love that song "Waiting Here for You" (Christy Knockels is my favorite. Her songs are on repeat in my car pretty much all the time!)

Praying for you still. xoxo