What kind of faith does it take
Before I can find real joy
Will you bring a smile to my face?
One that is real, eclipsed upon my heart?
Why does it haunt me now
This fleshly sorrow
Why does it tear me apart
Inside, so much I have had to swallow
Can I live like the others?
Bound only to you?
I seek to find passion for Your purpose
I can't do it with these tears.
I might find it soon
I might see it later
I might have to give it up
... that thought I cannot bear.
In this I fail You daily
Because I have no strength
Because the love I seek
Is human first, and You second.
Hear this pathetic cry
From a shattered body and soul
I have no courage to hand this
Over to You.
And He said,
"Have courage. Do not be afraid."
And for the rest of the night, He gave me the peace and comfort and love that I needed. And the respite from the fear and the trouble.
That is my testimony. I'm not someone who can take the lead, be in front of people while they watch me, and share what happened. But I can write. I am most expressive, most truthful, most honest and able when I write. Where words fail me in sound, I make it up in the silence in which the mind can drink in.
Last night, I was at the usual IV meeting. I was, as usual, a little late after running home from the gym. Somehow I was agitated. I had been agitated for a long time now, burdened with emotions I did not understand and a fear that was consuming me and making my chest hurt. I couldn't concentrate on what Jason was speaking at the front as he started his message and his lesson. I was heavily distracted. And I realized this wasn't working as long as I stayed in that room.
I felt I needed a little alone time. Just so I could speak in all honesty with God, if it meant relieving my soul of its heaviness. So I picked my way through several people(sorry guys, comin' thru) and went out into the food court where I sat in the deserted dining area and prayed in silence. I poured out everything-- and I mean everything. I must've rambled continually for a long time, almost out loud, till Cody came out to make a phone call and I had to murmur instead. It was a little awkward, as I was hoping nobody would disturb me, and I didn't want anyone from IV coming over and trying to pry open whatever the problem was despite them meaning well. But it didn't matter. I finished my prayer, and, finding nothing else to say to the Lord, I just sat there with my eyes staring into blackness and my mind empty and just... waiting. For anything.
There was a time when we were manning the IV table when Cody shared with me and Aunty B about how his pastor was teaching him prophetic prayer. He would pray over someone, and wait to receive an image from God, which he would attempt to interpret for that person. I certainly wasn't expecting an image to come to mind, although I did wonder if I would be sent one.
And guess what? Out of nowhere, an image of a tiger flashed through the darkness of my closed eyes.
At first, I was confused, as I always am. A tiger? What? Is it because I love cats?
And then came the words.
Brave. Courageous.
Oh.
But I don't know how to be, Lord.
"Do not be afraid."
Isn't it amazing how God works sometimes?
And at that moment, the Lord took away my fear. He took away the heavy burden weighing down my soul, and carried it on His own back. He gave me the spirit of joy, of happiness and relief. And I felt as if He was telling me, "Now get back there to that room, child, and love others the way I love them."
At that moment Cody was done with his phone call as I begin to get up. What I love about most guys is that they usually respect the privacy and wishes of a person, so when I told him that I was fine and that it was something I couldn't possibly share with, he readily understood. But I was really in a better place. Because I had consulted the best person ever that I could've talked to. Everyone has their own way in asking for help, and mine is usually to pray in solitude. I am not the sort that would go to others to ask for prayer, despite this being just as powerful.
So as I went back to the room, I could feel my spirit lifted. I could concentrate. I felt at peace. I was in comfort. The stark agitated patterns in my head were gone. And during fellowship, I was able to talk with others-- minus my usual sugar-high countenance. I was given discernment as I conversed with another person. It was as if I barely recognized myself; yet, I remained the same person throughout the night. My humor had no changed, but my thoughts and speaking skills did. It could all only have been God.
Little things like these have to start to be believed, by me, at least. If I want and crave for the change that I desire, to be filled with passion for God and to truly be able to hear His voice and discernment, I must learn to believe the little things. Believe. Such a simple word, such a difficult action.
Praise the Lord!
