Immanuel

I didn't know what to expect this morning, our last morning at Foundry Church after almost four rich years. I would have worn no mascara had I been more prepared, for by the end I had rivers of tears pouring down my neck. 

How He does it, I'll never know. 

Mighty God, Lord of Heaven's Armies, King of the World, come down to meet us. 

He met me. 

All the loose ends. All the deep roots. All the gaps. All I knew I needed and all I didn't know 'till it was streaming down my face.

It started all in pain.

I love this church. I have so many memories. The Lord has met me here. I don't ever want to leave this church.

As the worship began, I sat in that dark room and traced the losses.

To my left front, always, four years, Steve and Julie. Years of priceless and powerful small groups, raising our kids together, youth groups, dinners, phones calls, valleys, valleys, walking alongside others together, blessings. Church has been Steve and Julie, left front. I look at them and see His faithfulness. 

Down front, there's T. Always Teresa, like the coffee she serves every Sunday, every Sunday, I have counted on Teresa. She will be there. She will be praising. She will be walking impossible roads with the choice of joy, again and again and again. From that very first Sunday, from that very first small group, Teresa is making you laugh, lying about t-shirts, and looking to Jesus.

I trace the chairs. That was the chair I last sat with Dad, my last Sunday morning with Dad. That was the altar where he and I prayed and cried together. Three rows back was the chair I sat next to Matt, the lowest few Sundays of our lives, where we sat many weeks we could not stand. And everyone stood around us, for us. 

Over there, that was the chair I prayed for this person, and that, the chair where God met her, where he was restored. 

That empty chair....that was the chair next to Hannah I sat behind Sunday after Sunday after Sunday and prayed over for the Lord to fill. I reached out my hand toward that chair and I prayed for a godly, kind, smart and hilarious man to fill it for weeks and months and years. I bawled my head off in the darkness the first Sunday he sat there, unexpected red curls tumbling down his back, and the joy of answered prayer all over my precious friend's face. 

I looked over to the left wing, where Veronica clings to Henry's arm, and remember when I would just pray for that single dad, never knowing I was also praying for a dear and inspiring friend and a fantastic mom for his girls. Veronica and Henry remind me that following Jesus should not only be sweat and tears and blood, but also joy and laughter and passion.

I look at the empty chairs of Erin and Laura and the other faithful women my children LOVE...who have cared for Emma since day one in the nursery, who have shepherded Ben and Nora through SO MUCH, who have lovingly and patiently and joyfully discipled them without ceasing. Empty chairs, for they are in the next room with MY beloved little ones, for me, in my place.

I sat this morning, thinking of and praying for all the men and women who have come and gone, Eddie and Lauren, Hannah our grace, for the chairs beautiful friends not there today who have been and done and seen Jesus.

I go in my mind to one last chair, Pastor Elijah's, and I know, no doubt, that all of the ways the Lord has met me, met us at Foundry were made possible because that man was faithful to start it. To be it. To lead it. To stand for truth. To preach the hard and mighty Word. To create a spirit of truth and love. To persevere, to persevere, to persevere, when there were little glories, and most often, without. Elijah's faithfulness to seek and be faithful to the Lord, as Foundry's Shepherd, have made all the ways the Lord has met me, and hundreds, perhaps thousands of people...possible. It inspires me for this season as we pastor! I pray again, as I always will until she takes it, for that empty chair next to him, for the Lord to fill it with His good and perfect gift. 

I looked around this morning and counted my losses, mourning. 

As I cried, He tuned my ear back to the world around me, where the lyrics were being boldly sung: 

You deserve the praise
Worthy is Your name

It snapped me out of my graveyard attitude of despair and loss and transported me, immediately, to His throne room. Unexpectedly my hand flew to my mouth, unclean lips, for as I was murmuring through all the losses, are these not all My gifts? He asked. 

All these things I just circled, are they not all His gifts? 

Am I not rich? 

Has He not been good? 

Will He not still be?

He Deserves the Praise. 

Worthy Is His Name.

Sharon and Martin, my family, they sit beside me....Is that not the Lord and His goodness, sending me from afar family, at just the right Sunday, alongside? They worshipped next to me in Haiti, they worshipped next to me this morning at Foundry, they will worship next to me tonight at Wellspring, He has used them in the mighty gap left by my parents again and again and again and here they SAT this morning in those chairs. Who could have DONE that? I did not plan that, and they did not know. 

Are these Not all His Good Gifts?

hush, child. He deserves PRAISE.

Elijah gets up to lead us in prayer as I hold my breath in that sacred and loving chiding from the Lord, and my tears pour again as he leads us in a prayer I can honestly say I have NEVER been led in in a church in my life.

He asked us to bring another church, not Foundry, to mind, and he lead us in praying for that church to shine His light, for that church to have unity and joy and refreshing and faithfulness to sow many seeds for His kingdom. He lead us in praying blessing for that church in our hearts, and here I am, last Sunday at Foundry as I joyfully and fully and finally transition to Wellspring, and the Lord leads Elijah to corporately lead US in PRAYING for other churches. 

The Lord used my Foundry family to pray for my Wellspring family, used my Foundry family to pray without denomination, without comparison or jealously, for His Church....used Elijah to remind me that neither His Church nor His Faithfulness changes. As I have worked together with these brothers and sisters for His Kingdom Come...I continue. We carry on. We carry on together.

The service is closing, and I have the sacred privilege one last time to stand at the altar and pray over anyone who comes. 

I have cried such a steady hour I am parched, and as I stand there waiting for the last worship song to begin and for His church to come for prayer, the worship team begins to play Gratitude. Haven't played it in months and months.

If you haven't been here in Staey's mind and heart long, that song: Otis on the guitar in Steve and Julie's living room, was the gift of praise the Lord gave me in the hours of my darkest, dark nights of the soul. On repeat, those words many days kept me breathing in, breathing out, clinging to Him, choking out praise...

so I throw up my hands and praise you again and again, 

cause all that I have is a hallelujah, and I know it's not much

but I've nothing else fit for a king

just a heart singing Hallelujah

My last service. My last song. My last prayer at the Foundry altar. My thirsty soul.

Wasn't that the song they sang?

I couldn't stop laughing. 

The raccoon eyed woman at the altar this morning, laughing, that was me. 

When we came from Haiti, battered and weary, the Lord led us to Foundry, not because it was comfortable, but because God absolutely made it clear to us both that it was where He was calling us.

I like to think about how He calls us to use us. 

But He also calls us to LOVE US.

And He has LOVED me and was Faithful through the death of my mom, and dad. He has loved me and been faithful through Haiti. He was Faithful and loving through Wesley and He has been Faithful through Foundry. And already He is loving me and being faithful through Wellspring!

Like the day I first came, I left that beloved building today with nothing fit for our King but praise. 

And I will praise Him, again and again, because HE, beloved, is all that there is.

He was the only thing of worth in Haiti and of worth now. He is the only One who has not fallen short, who has not disappointed, who has not changed. He is all that there is, and all that there will be, and He SEES US.

Dear ones, He sees us. And THEN He COMES.  Immanuel, He CAME. And He Comes. He came today. 

He is the only thing worth having, the only thing worth holding onto when all else is stripped away, He is the only place to lay our heads, the only good and faithful one, the only place to lay our praise and trust that will not disappoint and will not fail.

In His unfathomable love, we can HAVE Him, God come. 

Our praise? It's not much.

But it miraculously fit for our King! 

In this, another one of life's transitions from His Faithfulness to His Faithfulness, I praise Him!