Dont You Understand; He Saved Me!

    

     I’m not a morning person; if you were any family member of mine you would know on any given morning, you will find me cocooned in my fleece blanket until noon or more. This particular morning is different, I’m sitting a top my roof, out my bedroom window watching the sunrise. I have so many thoughts I want to push away, but staring me in the face is reality. I walk around all day with the Christian smile, the Christian words, the Christian vibe; but I walk around all day, everyday with Yeshua in my pocket like a sauce packet from McDonalds. This early morning a week before I leave for Swaziland I’m stared in the face by my own ugliness, unfaithfulness and shame. The brightness and purity of the sun starts to become blinding as the sun is almost up. I stopped for a moment, but instead of dwelling, praying, calling out to my Abba; I slip back into my room, back into bed.

     Funny, on my way to the airport a week later I’m still angry, bitter and unchanged. Funny that the box I have for God is the same size as the box that contains my uneaten Happy Meal. Even more hilarious that I’m about to go and tell lost people about my Happy Meal saviour. I say good-bye to a Dad who isn’t sure he did the right thing allowing me to go on this mission with such a heart as I carried those past months. I sit on a crowded plane, silent, angry and trying to figure out how I will wear the Christian face for the next 6 weeks. I finally find my team, looks like a bunch of foo foo girls with no back bone and two guys with potential. My Spirit urges me to withhold my judgement from them, but my mind keeps rolling, heaping judgment and an ugly set of rules for myself to also be measured by.

     Training camp is not up to my preferences, its hot and I’m uninterested in spending any amount of time with any of these people. It’s time for worship and my hearts hard, blistered and full of junk. But something starts to fall from the sky, first just a spatter, and then more until its pouring and I’m drenched. I’m on the grass alone, I’m tired of this, I slowly release the saugy Happy Meal box that I’d been carrying around. As I let go, I hear the Lord speak to me as He once had, quietly and gently. Lord all the times I’ve failed you, all the times I’ve fallen short, He whispers, Forgiven for all of them. He sees the tears fall down my face, I give Him my fear and my shame, Lord purify me and make me new like only You can do. I thank Him for His grace, forgiveness and love even when I am most unlovable.

     By the end of that night I’m changed from the inside out, I’m purified, fearless, shameless. I’ve given God all of me not this cheap Happy Meal portion and God doesn’t stop there with me, He gives me boldness to witness to a soldier at the airport during my 10 hour wait, who is led to salvation, He uses me and two other teammates to lead 8 women to physical healing and spiritual revival. God didn’t stop with me, He used me because I became open, I became on fire. But none of this story is really about any of the mircles, any of the splender, glory or hummility. This broken tale is about the love of a saviour, when people ask me about my trip and ask “how do you do it?”, “how are you so on fire?”, “how can you give up so much?” I point it away from me, because its not about me and make them realize its all because He saved me, don’t you understand HE saved ME!

 

In all their distress He too was distressed, and the angel of His presence saved them. In His love and mercy He redeemed them; He lifted them up and carried them all the days of old. Isaiah 63:9

The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Psalm 116:6

He saved me; MORE OF HIM; less of me