love has come

I knew this past Sunday was going to be a big one because the Wellspring Kids I've been stretched, blessed and humbled to lead the past months had their big song and dance number! It was also the last Sunday of advent, and Matt had a million plates spinning. 

I was NOT expecting it to be a big one because the Lord was going to confront me. Shift me. Show me. 

Not five minutes in, after the lighting of the love candle, our friend Charlie got on stage to share a short testimony about love. 

He shared a story of a time he was driving to Home of Grace to volunteer for a few days, a faith-based addiction recovery program a few hours from here we happen to have had several phone calls with the past two weeks. He had my attention. 

On his way there, having once been a hitchhiker himself, he stopped to pick up one. As he slowed down, he said he almost took off again, because the man he was planning to give a ride to looked terrifying. Dozens of piercings and tattoos covered his face, but Charlie was determined to help and let him in.  The man's appearance alone made it obvious to Charlie that he needed the Gospel! Urgently.

Charlie started in talking to him about Jesus and his need for a savior, preaching...and before long the hitchhiker stopped him. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather walk the whole way to Panama City than listen to one more word about Jesus. Please let me out."

Lord, Charlie prayed, help me. I'm doing what I should have done before I ever opened my mouth to start preaching. You know this man, through and through. You see him. Tell me what to do.

Love him, Charlie clearly sensed.  

How in the world do I do that when I can't even talk about you? Charlie wondered, chatting with the man while he prayed and searching the Lord for wisdom.  As they drove and talked, Charlie asked what was in Panama City.

"Well," the man said, "I should have told you this when I got in. I have AIDS, and have been given six months to live. I've spent my whole life far from home and hurting my family, and when they told me I'm gonna die, I called my mama. She's 90 years old, lives in Panama City, and she said I could come home. So, I'm going home to die at the only place I can ever remember being happy."

That's how, the Lord clearly spoke to Charlie. Take him home.

Mind you. Home of Grace was a few hours away. Panama City? 20.  

Friends. Twenty hours drive to Eugene's mama's house in Panama City.

Well okay, Charlie said a million times quicker than I would have.

And he did.

No preaching, just talking, stopping at Waffle Houses and gas stations along the way, sharing their stories and their lives. Learning about unspeakable brokenness in Eugene's life. 

He finally got him to his mama's house. Before they got out, he handed Eugene a pamphlet he had with him of a short description of salvation and an example of a sinner's prayer.  

"I know you don't want to hear about Jesus," Charlie said, "but I believe if you read this and pray this prayer, He will meet you. And I KNOW that He loves you." 

He left it at that, met the man's mother, left his address in her hands and headed the 20 hours back home. 

Six months later, almost to the day, a letter came in the mail.

He didn't recognize the man in the photo, so put it aside as he read the letter.  

That mother he'd met in Panama City said that every day, again and again and again, Eugene had read that prayer. Memorized that prayer. Prayed that prayer. And over the course of the last six months of his life, Eugene began to change. 

The photo was of Eugene before he died, all the metal in his face replaced by light and joy, and a softness that made him almost unrecognizable to Charlie. 

By now, I had ugly tears running down my neck, and my babies weren't even up on stage yet singing and dancing for Jesus. 

"I guess Eugene's dancing in heaven, because the same love I've known from the Father, He helped me give Eugene."

love like that, pray like that, the Lord clearly impressed on me. 

I realized that while I have never stopped praying for certain people in my life and in the lives of others, it has often been with frustration. I have often prayed with irritation. Without hope. Often prayed with disgust or exhaustion or bitterness or anger or hopelessness.

And He wants us to pray with His LOVE. 

And I have often silently or not silently given direction. I have often known what others need to do. I have often shared and preached and pointed the Gospel. 

But I have NOT shared my life. I have often guarded my time, my family, my wishes, my agenda, my schedule, my safety, my comfort.  I have not exemplified crazy love over you're-driving-me-crazy or loving-like-this-is-crazy.

Maybe one day, there will be a man at Home of Grace with tattoos and piercings all over his face that many have prayed a million prayers for. 

As those candles burned bright...hope and joy and faith and LOVE, I was convicted deeply on my love looking a lot like Stacey's-biggest-heart-love and totally missing the mark of just my love looking like His.

Like the kind that left heaven to come down for Christmas. Like the kind that willingly headed to a cross. Like the kind that drives 40 hours.

Like His love and Mary's love that put Jesus not in his mama's arms...but in a feed box, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 

Jesus, not for her, but for the world to COME and receive the gift God gave, Bread from Heaven, Living Bread, taste and see. 

Christmas, not for me. But a gift to give. A sacrifice to make. A love to live for people, not hold for them. 

And as I've shifted this past week in my thinking and prayers, there has been such unexpected freedom and joy. 

Eugene is with Jesus today because of how great the Father's love and sacrifice, and because Charlie was willing to sacrificially mirror it.  

How many souls eternal are healed and rejoicing because the Church loved like Jesus did? Because I did?

I love you...Don't Stop praying for your people...But pray with His love. 

Merry Christmas, dear ones.