When that somebody is you

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I haven’t been much in the mood to write lately.  Actually, to be honest I haven’t been much in the mood to do anything, which is usually the case at the beginning of time off (three weeks to be exact).  The Newtown shooting has been on my mind and heart, never far from my thoughts.  You can’t turn on the news without seeing or hearing something about it.  And now the funerals are starting and we’re learning more about these precious children.  I’m awed at the grace some of these parents are showing in the face of this tragedy.  God is pouring it out on those who will receive it, and it brings me to tears listening to them process their grief.  They are choosing to overcome evil with good.

I had lunch with a friend yesterday and came out and asked her whether she thought about going to Connecticut and praying for God to raise the dead.  That led to an interesting discussion which ended with her citing the passage about only doing/saying what we see the Father doing/saying (like Jesus did).  Well, I’m not there in terms of hearing from God yet, but I can tell you that I wanted to go and I’d like to think that counts for something.  For two hours early Sunday morning I tossed and turned and struggled with that.  I thought about posting a short “Who will go with me?” on GSSM’s Facebook page to see if anyone else was in the same place, but I didn’t do it mostly because I didn’t believe we’d be allowed anywhere close.  I wasn’t sure where to even start with something like that.  You’d probably get thrown in jail or sent to the hospital (escorted, no doubt by the police) if you showed up and announced that you wanted to be allowed to go to the morgue and pray for God to raise the dead.  And did you really want to get someone’s hopes up only to have them get dashed again if God didn’t do it?  Was I being presumptuous even thinking that God wanted to raise any or all of them?

But I kept thinking about the story Robbie Dawkins shared at a conference last year, how when he was in Puerto Rico and was in a park where a man died that Robbie prayed over him for HOURS, weeping and crying and pleading, and a crowd gathered and HE DIDN’T CARE and kept right on going.  Finally he gave up, and the next day I think something like twenty-five people came to the church he was speaking at as a result of watching him try, and many of them gave their lives to Christ.  The WLI Raising the Dead course is being offered in January at a hundred bucks off the usual price.  I’m considering taking it, not because I believe there is a set way God does it (and I’m sure they don’t teach that there is), but to build my faith.  It only takes a mustard seed to see it happen.  As I sat on my bed Sunday morning and talked with God about it I reminded Him of that, pointing to one of the polka dots on my sheets and saying, “That’s all it takes, just one of those.”  And that’s when I realized that every night I sleep covered by thousands of “mustard seeds”, that faith is there for the taking and I must do more taking.

We have a tendency to think that God only uses those who have “arrived” (whatever that means) or who are His “man of the hour.”  He’s just looking for someone, anyone, with the faith to take Him at His word.  When that somebody is you, He will give you the gift of faith that you need.

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