It is amazing how many broken people there are in the church. People who have been lied to and expected to portray perfection because they are Christian.
I saw a woman at yesterday's service. She was tall. Lush. Just beautiful. The speaker had just called for those who were like those mentioned in the Amplified version of Luke 4:19. Oppressed, downtrodden, bruised, crushed, or broken down by calamity. The beautiful woman shuffled forward as if afraid to be seen, afraid to wander too far away from her husband's side. Probably thinking that her heart would be laid bare for all to see. And condemn. Probably because of the dirty filthy lies fed to her from a young age.
I saw her crying. Tears stained with shame as she moved to the front to be prayed for. She behaved as if the whole room was staring her down, but in reality, no one really noticed. The speaker prayed for her, laid hands on her head and the Holy Spirit knocked her over and must have started dealing with her heart.
Dealings with the Holy Spirit are always a sight to behold. Even though it is a messy, disorganised business, with arms flailing and people making strange sounds, it is still an enchanting exchange between God and man. It was intimate time but it seemed like she couldn't handle it. I could see her sit up after awhile and try to stand but she couldn't. Even where I was standing, I could tell that God was telling her not to rush things. Her husband tried to help her up but it seemed like God had fixed her firmly to the ground.
It seemed that the presence of the Holy Spirit was gently coming around her. But her feeble defence, the shield of shame that she tried to wield, was being overcome. It was as if she didn't like the sensation of getting wet while sitting on a beach as the waves came up around her.
Just then, God said, "Go sing to her, calm her down."
And these thoughts came rushing in.
On and on the struggle went. And while I was busy in debate with my insecurity, the woman and her husband had come back to their seats which were just behind me. While I was contemplating how foolish it would look to turn around and sing facing them, my friend, Samuel, who had been sitting beside me leant over and asked whether he should go up to the front for prayer. His eyes, full of determined desperation, showed me that it wasn't a request.
While he slipped out to go to the front, I went over to my sister, who was standing nearby and tried to pass the baton. I told her to go over to sing to the woman. She started to move towards her but stopped after a single step. She said God had dealt with her already. She was right. He had already asked me to do it. She pointed out something about her appearance which made me even more sure that I was supposed to sing to her.
I made my way down the aisle and stood behind her and slightly to the right. Then I began to worship God as best I could. Nate and Megan were singing 'Majesty' by Delirious?. I began to harmonise with Nate, singing in the Spirit, trying to match the intensity of the Holy Spirit as I felt Him.
As I sang, her hands rushed to cover her face again. To try to stop the tears again. But I noticed that her sobbing had changed. From that of a struggle, to one of surrender. She sat down and began to bask in His peace. I may not have been the speaker that night. I may not have been the worship leader or in the worship band. But I can still be obedient to the Holy Spirit. I can still minister.
Why are there so many broken people? Maybe we haven't been who we are meant to be. Maybe we have been misrepresenting Jesus and the church for so long that we come across as moral police and behavioural judges. Maybe it is just time to stop pretending like we have it all figured out.
I hope the world forgives us.
Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles, Facades are a fire on the skin.
And I'm growing fond of broken people, As I see that I am one of them.
Oh, why must I work so hard, Just so I can feel like the nobles ones?
Obligations to my heart are gone, Superficial lines explain it all.
| Mutemath - Pins & Needles |
I started to realise that there was a great hunger and thirst for regular, cynical, ragbag people to talk about God and goodness and virtue in a tone that didn't frighten and upset you, or make you feel that you were doing even more poorly than you'd thought.
| Anne Lamott on her book Travelling Mercies |
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