she had my name.
i was kneeling prostrate at the altar, praying, after crying myself into a hot mess all during church and just overwhelmed by the way God works sometimes. i wanted to keep those moments sacred, didn’t know when to lift my head from that communion. and i hadn’t knelt at an altar at church in years.
i raised up and turned my head behind me as i rose to go, and at just that moment, a woman approached me and asked if she could pray with me. she asked my name. i told her.
it was hers, too.
if you have never had the privilege of being prayed over, i pray that for you. i pray you know the way Jesus breaks your spirit like Passover bread as the body, His body, brings you before His throne. i pray you know the way He pours tears out of your eyes the way He poured His blood out for you, for this community, for this moment. so often we think we can do it all, and being prayed over reminds you that you can’t, you absolutely can’t, but that you’re not the only one fighting on your side. you are. the person praying over you is. God is. you are not alone.
she addressed, in particular, one fear i’ve been having as i search for jobs, a fear i hadn’t even mentioned to her but was already scripting out like the next hollywood blockbuster in my head. & if that was not confirmation that i had to listen carefully to God about that fear, i don’t know what would be.
she has my name, & she and her husband have been called to be missionaries to france, a country i love deeply. she confirmed several calls God’s recently made on my life. and she asked for my email address, so we could keep in touch about my next venture.
a venture i want to share with you, to ask you to partner with me in, if you will be so kind as to come back here tomorrow.