One gal's record of trying to pay much closer attention to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

(...with a sprinkling of accounts from her outrageously blessed life with THE best husband in the world!)




14 August 2006

Rarely what I expect...

My husband and I had to decide what we were going to do last Friday night.

"The church is having a time of worship to wrap up the worship conference it hosted over the weekend," I told him. "I'd like to go. Who knows? Maybe God will heal me."

I was refering to my mysterious fatigue and malaise.

We decided to go out for pizza first. I limped out to the car and limped into the restaurant, limped out to the car again, limped into church, limped up the stairs to seats in the way back (we were 5 minutes late - who can rush through pizza?), and sat down. You see, I'd had an accident while cycling with my husband the previous Saturday and had injured my knee. It was black and blue and scabby, and I'd been babying it all week. Something had gone wrong inside my joint and it wasn't improving. The next day I would be spending my day at an amusment park with my husband and parents. I was worried about reinjuring it if I was on it all day, but I wanted to see my family and was not calling the trip off.

We were lead in worship by an amazing team, and a few songs into the session I felt like I heard a word from God that I should share. My church has a microphone that anyone who feels they have a prophetic word can go to. There's a pastor there who helps you discern if your word is timely, appropriate, and scriptural. If it is, then you can share.

So I ran what I believed I heard past my husband first, and he said I should go run it past the pastor at the mic. I went. The fellow's name was John (he was very nice), and he said that he felt confident I was hearing from God, but that he didn't feel that second was the best to share. He asked if I'd wait.

"Of course," I said, and sat down on the floor right there in the aisle. I always have peace to do that - God will make an opening if he desires.

While on the floor the pain in my knee began to worsen and my joint stiffened. It seemed to happen when I sat still for long periods of time. I tried to shift around and massage it to keep the pain down.

We sang, we prayed, we listened to others who felt they had heard from God. Our worship leader actually felt he had a prophetic song for a specific group of ladies in the audience. He sang it for them. After that, John retrieved a man who was sitting near me to come to the mic. He approached the mic and said one sentence: "I believe the Lord desires to heal those here with pain in their lower extremities."

Needless to say, my breath caught in my throat. Our worship leader asked anyone who fell into that category to raise their hand. I did. John turned around, saw me, and smiled. I shrugged bashfully. Our worship leader then asked if those near us would lay their hands on us and pray that we'd be healed. I had the blessing of 6 or 7 people praying for my knee injury. I'm always so humbled when I hear people praying prayers in proper perspective - specifically that whatever they are asking for would bring God glory and not just give us what we want.

After I was prayed for we went on singing. John came back to me, smiling, and asked "How's your knee?"

"Feel's great," I relayed. He then let me know that he felt we'd moved on from the time in the program that was condusive to sharing words. "Though I'm not sure that's what God brought you down for in the end..." I thanked him for shepherding the microphone in such a big meeting, and as I left said off-handedly "Maybe that word was meant for me."

As I went home, I noticed a little bit of pain in my knee. I had a choice. I could doubt that God had done what he promised or I could concent to giving him a night to do his work. I chose the later, and went to bed telling God I believed he was able to heal my knee and that I would be pain free at the amusement part the next day.

And I was. The pain was completely gone and I was on my feet all day Saturday. It's Monday now, and the pain hasn't returned. I even went cycling again yesterday and was fine.

I had gone to the service that night having flipantly said "maybe God will heal me." I should have known better - because he did, just now how I expected.

Oh, and that word I recieved?

"What then? Are we to sin because we are not under law but under grace? By no means! Do you not know that if you present yourselves to anyone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of righteousness. " --Romans 6:15-18


I felt the Lord wanted us to know that excitement over the Gospel is good and right, but that same Gospel demands a response from us - that response is obedience, turning from our sin and turning to God.

What was it I said to John as I left? "Maybe that word was meant for me"? Well, it was. God confirmed that the very next morning when he revealed sin I'd been letting fester for months. God doesn't speak without speaking to someone.

God did heal me - it just wasn't how I expected. God did speak - it just wasn't to whom I expected. God's always moving - it's just rarely what I expect.

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