That is how long it’s been since my friend used meth for the last time. It was about 4 O’Clock On A Friday afternoon. I have told you the story about her addiction and a little bit about the intervention and you can read it here in case you missed it.
There are so many things about that weekend and the 60 days since that I still can’t wrap my mind around but one of the biggest things that I have struggled to understand is why in the world God let me be there.
God could have chose anyone to be there that weekend. He could have used anyone to speak through or He could have chosen to do it completely on His own, in the quiet of her own heart with no other witnesses.
But He didn’t. He picked me to see it. To experience it and feel it and live it.
When I read or hear the stories of Jesus performing miracles during his time on earth, I always wonder how it would have felt to be someone who was in the crowd. What it would have been like to have been in the room when He touched the man on his mat and he got up and walked? What it would have been like to have been standing near the one who touched His robe and was healed?What would it have been like just to catch a glimpse of life being changed? What did the people in the crowd do next? Did they run and tell everyone that they knew?. Everyday for the next week and the next 30 years did they tell the story to anyone and everyone who would listen?
And I guess the only logic I can come up with for why God let me stand in the creek with this girl and walk with her and talk with her and cry with her and fly with her that weekend is that He knew I wouldn’t be able to be quiet. He knew all about my style, loud and dramatic and with a tendency to over share. Maybe He let me be there that weekend because He wanted to make sure that I didn’t let people forget about that one time my God rescued a girl and maybe He knew if I saw it once, I’d learn how to recognize that He does it daily.
60 days ago I walked through the woods with a girl who was high meth. She had been abused and used and was the very image of what it meant to be broken. She didn’t care if she lived or died, and if she would have kept using, death would have been her only option.
Today she’s nearly half way through her rehab program. For 60 days she has fought to be clean and she’s worked on dealing with all the reasons and the ways she got to that point. None of it has been easy and it probably never really will be, but she’s 60 days stronger than she was.
If God can take her life and reclaim it, if He can take what was empty and fill it up again then I have no doubt that He can do the same for me and for you.
Friends, I saw it with my own eyes and I made God a promise that weekend to never let anyone forget that He still takes broken things and makes them brand new. He did it for her, He’s done it for me and He can do it for you, too.
Here’s to another 60 days, my sweet friend!
My grandmother lived with us from the time I was in first grade and she, along with my mom, were instrumental in modeling for me the ways of Jesus.
I can remember her often getting phone calls during the day to let her know that someone in our church family had requested prayer and her spending the rest of the afternoon on the phone, calling the other members of our church to call into action of community that would intercede in prayer on the behalf of the person requesting it. She called it her ‘prayer chain’ and I can’t even begin to fathom the works The Father has done over the years as a result of her faithfulness and at the asking of her community of the faithful.
I guess I grew up always knowing the power of prayer but not until recently have I really come face to face with the all changing and all encompassing power of people petitioning God on the behalf of another.
I’ve told you the story about the intervention I was involved nearly a month ago and I’ve told you the story about how God rescued this 19 year old girl who was addicted to meth, but I haven’t told you the how, partly because I am still trying to wrap my mind around it and partly because I’m still so in awe of it that I can’t find the words.
Everything about that weekend. Everything about the weeks and months leading up to that moment in time. Everything since, has all been a result of the power of God displayed through the asking of His people.
Not the cliche “I’ll pray for you” kind of sentiment that we often give to people when we don’t know what to say and then forget about them the minute we walk away, but the real thing.
Prayer. Communion with The Father. Face to the ground. Fervent. Heart felt and full of longing. Refrains offered up to the One who always hears. Calling out and calling on and falling on God. The kinds of prayers that are formed with words and the kinds of prayers that are formed from tears and just saying the name of “Jesus” when the words just won’t come.
Prayers of a community. The collective call of those who’s desire is for nothing less than the Kingdom of God to be present on the Earth as it is in heaven.
And in the days and weeks since witnessing the resurrection from death of this girl, I just can’t bear to think of all of the ways that God is waiting to move in the lives of those around me. And in my own. And that maybe He is just waiting to be asked.
And I’ve wrestled with God for the past 38 years and for the past 4 weeks and what I wanted to hear from Him was “Well done my good and faithful servant, your reward awaits in heaven” what I have heard Him say is “Now what?” What I’ve heard Him say is “How can it be that you have seen me move and you still aren’t convinced enough? How is it you can settle back into your routine of life and forget? Forget that I was and that I will be and that I Am?”
And for you I am sure that He uses sweet words and the brush of angels wings but for me, because He knows there is no other way, He shakes me and He says “You stupid girl. Wake up. I AM.”
And so that is really the cry of my heart. That I would wake up. That we would wake up.
While my grandma’s prayer chain might be a thing of the past, I believe with all that I am that God is stirring my generation. A generation of people who are broken and in need of being rescued. And in some little teeny, tiny way, I think He’s asked me to be a part of that by using the one thing I am best at, social media.
I know, I’ve had the same conversations with God over the last few weeks about how silly it sounds. About the plight of our country and our nation and about the suffering we see on tv and in our kitchens and in our hearts and that maybe asking people to “simply” pray for each other seems like it’s not enough.
And then God reminds me of a girl who is in rehab right now who should have been in the ground and He reminds me that He is always enough.
And so that’s where this new project comes in. Collective Call. Imagine it to be a 2014 version of my grandma’s prayer chain. A place where people can lay down the burdens of their hearts and know that a community of people will pick them up and carry them to The Father on their behalf. A place where broken people come to intercede with broken people knowing that in their own strength and left to their own devices, they are useless, but being confident in the transforming power of the One who longs to transform the dust of our lives into something beautiful.
I’d love it if you would join me. I have created a space on Facebook where people can leave their prayer request. You are free to share as much or as little as you are comfortable sharing. It can be a request for yourself or a family member or your city or our world. It can be descriptive or unspoken, it doesn’t matter.
And maybe by you sharing your real struggles and prayer request, you will give someone else the courage to share theirs.
And then together, as a community, a Collective Call, we will pray with and for you. Maybe as you are praying for someone you want to share some written words with them as a way of encouraging them and letting them know you are praying.
Maybe you just want to click the “like” and let your “thumbs up” be a sign that you are interceding on their behalf, again, it doesn’t matter how, just that you do.
I’d love it if you would “like” the Collective Call page on Facebook so that you can follow along with the requests and check there often. I would also love it if you would share this post with everyone that you know so that it can reach as many people as it can. Our community of prayer will be made stronger.
Collective Call: A Community of Prayer
Can you believe that it’s almost Fall?
I, for one, could not be more excited! I am a lover of all things Fall-y; cool weather, cozy sweaters, cinnamon anything and of course my favorite thing about the Fall…. The Fall Pinterest Party!
This will be the third annual Fall Pinterest Party (sounds so official, right?) and these might be some of my favorite projects yet. A huge thanks to those of you who visited the survey to help me pick the projects. As always, you have impeccable taste.
Because of the size of the Fall party, I will be holding it on Saturday and Sunday, Sept 27th and 28th. When you complete your RSVP, you can indicate which day you will be attending. Here are all the details:
What To Bring:
- A pair of scissors.
- A glue gun (if you have one)
- 4 pictures to use for your photo display. If you are giving that project as a gift, the photos can always be added later!
- A food dish to share from one of your favorite Pinterest recipes. It can be an appetizer, dessert or something savory!
Now for the projects we will be completing. Remember, your supply fee of $20.00 covers you completing all 3 projects.
3 Wooden Pumpkins
Wooden Photo Display
Harvest Block Candle Holders
Today it will be two weeks. Two weeks since I got a call to tell me that a 19 year old girl that I love was addicted to meth.
At about 4 o’clock on this Friday two weeks ago, my friend used that evil drug for the last time. She loaded a syringe full of God only knows what kind of chemicals and jammed it into her thigh. At the rate and the amount she was using, maybe it would have taken a few more times of her using before her body gave up. Maybe it would have been the next time. At 4 o’clock on that Friday, she was as good as in the grave.
She didn’t know at that point that it would be her last time. She had no idea at 4 o’clock on a Friday that God had already put into motion a plan to rescue her. A plan to literally save her life. She didn’t know the God that dreamed her into being had never turned His face from her.
I’m don’t know what your today looks like, what your Friday at 4 o’clock will bring. But I know this.
You are never too far. Too far gone. Too far in. Too addicted. Too far removed.
Whether you have simply turned your head or run as far and as fast in the other direction as you could, you are never too far from God for him to ever stop loving you. For him to ever stop dreaming up your rescue plan.
At 4 o’clock on this Friday, whether you are grieving or hurting or wandering or using or being used, God can rescue you. He can take what is dead, what is destined only for the grave and he can breathe new life in it.