In the midst of the embarrassingly juvenile political atmosphere America has descended into, I have been looking around my world, trying to sink my teeth into something that makes sense to me.
Don’t worry, this isn’t a piece about politics. I’m just trying to anchor the beauty I have witnessed over the past couple of weeks into the strange and surreal November landscape we are collectively experiencing.
You know how if you love Jesus you’re supposed to be fishers of people? To actually tell others about God’s love? I’ve been on this extraordinary journey with my Jesus ever since the Treehouse three years ago. If you were to see me running around town with any of my four kids you would see smoke trailing behind me, not because I run fast, but because God has lit a fire under my booty to tell everyone I can about our story, how he miraculously saved us, and that he loves them. (Photo cred debsanestingplace.blogspot.com)
This is some kind of Grownup Jesus thing I’ve got going on. Before 2013, before life fell apart, I was super comfortable to let people go on about their days without talking to them about God’s great love. Why?
Honest answer: I was lukewarm.
Lukewarm is no longer comfortable for me. Which brings me to my point about something beautiful. I have had the opportunity to share our story in several ways and places over the last couple of weeks and because God can use you when you’re open and vulnerable and airing your dirty laundry, I got to see a friend of mine that I’ve been praying for for over a year invite Jesus into her life.
I told the eight year old about this Grownup Jesus situation and he just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How could a grownup not know Jesus? And then, in typical this-kid style, he told me that was the best thing he had heard all week.
I couldn’t agree more, buddy.
I got to teach my Tell Your Story class to a fantastic group of 14 and 15 year olds. If you want to truly be encouraged despite the state of the world right this minute, go hang out with these world changers. I promise, you will feel much better about the way things are going when you see what capable hands we will be leaving our country and world.
Sharing my story at my ladies bible study–and don’t you know my knees were knocking a little?–made me realize that it’s quite a different thing to share your filthy moldy mildew-ish laundry with complete strangers than it is to air it all in front of family.
And to top it off, today I was in and among my people–other caregivers who are just trying to navigate caring for their loved ones while still trying to do life. Maybe I should say while trying to have a life. Hoping that this caregiving season of life won’t last forever. These brave souls deserve to be saluted during National Caregiver Month-they are sacrificing much now that their loved ones who sacrificed for our country are back home.
All of this reminds me of the beauty in this Grownup Jesus caregiving blessed life. Vulnerability leads to blessing. Exposing your wounds to the Light means the healing can continue.
I am humbled that God would use someone like me to do his work, someone so exquisitely human in my mess that I fear he may have made a mistake in calling me to this. That he uses my human flaws and weaknesses to point people back to him just makes me weep with gratitude. Not only did he miraculously save our family, but he is bringing something beautiful out of all the pain, trauma, and drama that our family has been through these last few years.
If you have a story–and I’m pretty sure you do-would you consider letting God use it? Your story might be the absolute difference in someone else’s story. If you are willing to let him take all that junk that you pretend isn’t even yours, he can do something glorious with it.(photo cred theseprices.net)
Make a difference with your story, despite who you’re voting for or what your political affiliation is or who ends up winning this election. Seriously, someone just wake me up when it’s over–I can’t bear to look.
Tell your story.
©Copyright Meredith Shafer 2016. Connect with me at www.meredithshafer.com