A Step Missed

Have you ever walked down an old familiar flight of stairs, just to reach the bottom, miss a step and tumble to the floor? Naturally, I’m a klutz, so it’s not an uncommon feeling for me – but I experience this feeling in more than steps. Today, I led my first bible study group since college – in college, I led a lot of discussions, with lots of partners, in lots of settings, but tonight – tonight was different. It felt like my first time, all over again. I made the same silly mistakes, I was nervous, I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t bare the silence… and my partner, I didn’t allow her to shine the way she could… God help me for thinking I know what I’m doing… God help me for thinking my doctrine is perfect. Lord, help me to give you the group and the message and the glory. Jesus, help me to hear your voice. II Corinthians 3:5.

I came home from this learning experience and my apartment door was decorated with ducks and flowers and wreaths and my doormat had been “stolen” and moved to my neighbor Billie’s apartment. I started to walk over and heard a loud scream -- I rushed inside to see thick smoke and uncontrollable laughter. Billie had burned her steak and my other neighbor, Dawn, was over for dinner. I stayed for an hour or so, but listened as God opened a conversation with a hurting and dying friend that night. At the moment I felt most awkward and inadequate, God seemed to say “Don’t worry about you. Your anxiety is mine. Your leadership, your talents, your discipleship, even your faith is mine. Don’t worry about the words or what people think or being wrong. I love you – and I’m going to use you. Trust me – my hands are capable.” I believe that, but man, how anxious am I in the storm? I so want to lead and to witness – but how uncomfortable, how scary is it to put myself “out there.” And yet, just after I had missed that step, in my humility and brokenness, God presented his eternal opportunity to love the unloved. And He moved.

Daddy, you have given me a broken and anguished heart beyond my understanding. I can’t feel “normal” anywhere – I can’t help but ache when I see the hurt and pain that sin causes in your creation. Help me Father, not to succumb to that same sin that I grieve over. Help me to trust you. Help me to get over myself, get beyond myself, beyond my fear and wear your anguished heart that I feel in the closet when I step out in the open. Help my heart to stay at the bottom of the steps, broken and humble, available for you to lead me back up. God, the enemy doesn’t want me to get back up or bear fruit – help me, Father.

I have so much I want to write about -- lots of doctrine and ideas and theology, things I've thought about on long drives -- but all I can write is what you got above. It's hard to focus on the "classroom" when you're in the heat of battle.