A blanket of heat covered the Northwest, like the stifling warmth shallowing our breath, making us gasp for air.
As soon as our SUV swerved onto the freeway, the cars before us seemed to stop, as if to block us from what God was doing, in Seattle.
The air conditioning broke, sweat poured down our faces, me and my two daughters…
The hungry ones.
Almost a teenager and my daughter from college. Those that have seen my hands raised, watched my struggle for strength. The girls that have both been down hard roads, but grace seemed to carry them.
“Turn back”. “It’s too hot”. “You’re never going to make it in time!” The lies shot like arrows through my fragile mind, trying to convince me that my time was more precious than traffic.
My heart wavered with pressure, almost like a whispering army, to just not go to Pentecost Night at the Church in Seattle, just blocks from the University of Washington.
And just when my wheel almost turned voluntarily to the offramp on the freeway, a small, lowly butterfly fluttered across my windshield, there amidst cars, pavement and puttering traffic.Â
I was not going fast, but I just then remembered, how many times I was headed to a move of God and an eagle or bird somehow crossed my path.
I knew it was God speaking; because Our Creator speaks through Scripture, but He also speaks through His Created.
I held my gaze and kept driving with sweat dripping, girls impatient, and a heart clinging to that mustard seed of hope that God might still move today, like He did in the book of Acts.
We make it to Seattle, find a parking spot immediately, just one block away. Race up the staircase that led to the white building, praises pouring out, like a fragrant offering to Our King.
Energy fills me.
We rise another flight of stairs, on the inside, and make our way to three seats where I can tangibly feel the beauty of a God who brings peace, like nothing in this world never could.
Heat fills my hands as I raise them and I cry out to God. “Jesus, don’t just do it for me. God, fill my daughters a hundred fold. What you want to give me, give to them instead.”
A righteous prayer, I supposed.
But, what I didn’t know was, there is more than enough God to go around. He doesn’t just fill us. He is like a waterfall of goodness, saturating the hearts of every soul open, longing for a touch from Him.
I hear his whisper. I thank Him.
Then, my twelve-year-old asks to go up front to sing. I encourage her.
She loves the front of the sanctuary where His presence lingers, where her eyes can remain fixed on His Spirit moving in the hearts of those worshipping.
Soon after, I see a woman lay hands on my daughter. Heads bowed, she is hungry to listen.
And isn’t that the key to all spiritual growth? A heart hungry to hear what God has to say?
The prayer is over. My daughter lingers.
A line forms almost to the back of the sanctuary. Here, no one is pretentious, no one is self-conscious. Every heart is desperate. Every soul is asking.
At twelve, my child doesn’t know the typical “church routine”:
1. Get prayed for.
2. Go back to your seat.
She just lingers.
There in His presence. Straight in front of the stage. A student. A listener. An empty vessel waiting to be filled…
And I think as Christians, we can get calloused to the ways of God. We can subconsciously put Him in a box, insisting…God moves like this or He only moves like that.
We can limit God by strands of unconscious, religious mindsets; handicapping ourselves with unspoken limitations on a God who holds the Universe in His hands.Â
Why do we do that? Why?
I resist the urge to call her back, so that the long line of people seeking prayer can now fill the alters…Something checks me.
This is her time. Her faith. Her walk.
I heed the warning to not put a ceiling on a limitless God…
A God who doesn’t come for religious boxes, but runs to the thirsty, fills those most needy, meets those climbing trees like Zacchaeus, in Scripture. A man who’d do anything to fix his eyes on Jesus.
Another woman comes to pray for my twelve-year-old. Then another. And finally a man. She is surrounded by His presence. I thank God silently for this pouring out of praying on a child who was passed around in a system that didn’t care about stability.
And then, I see her bent over. Wailing.
Thank you, Jesus.
Tears of trauma, years of history. Countless memories come flooding from her eyes. I know the history. I have heard the lies that have tried to snatch away my daughter’s destiny.
My mother instinct wants to run to my weeping daughter. But, I hesitate. He reminds me again, “This is her faith journey. Don’t step in. Let me move how I want to.”
I hold back. Resist playing Jezebel, snatching control, trying to be her Savior, when clearly the Savior himself was working mightily on her heart.
I whisper to my older daughter, “She is getting delivered.”
Then, a great release. I see her still. Calm. In peace.
She rises, gets prayed for again. And then falls under the Spirit, like commissioned this time by a Great Calling, set apart for His purposes.
We get to the car after the night is over and I can see it visibly…she is changed!
I ask her how she is feeling. She says she is calmer. No more anxiety. Such peace. Her face still glowing four days after this experience of being prayed for in the presence of a Holy God.
And I am reminded…
Why is it we search in the world for answers to the problems the world created?
Why do we run to man-made “solutions”, doctors and medications, when…
One moment in the presence of God can change us, indefinitely.
I was asked on a podcast interview one time, why is it my adopted kids are thriving. They think it’s me. They think my prayers are some magic key. My strategies are healing.
When in reality, nothing is more powerful than crawling and reaching for the hem of Jesus. Sitting in His presence. Stepping back from playing God and letting the One True Savior have an encounter with our children.
He is able. He is willing to redeem what man says is impossible.
I look at my daughter and I see first-hand, miracles still exist. God is still in the healing business. The level of brokenness does not limit our loving God.
So friend, if you are stumbling today. If you are tired and weary. If you are tainted or broken. Get out of the seat you are sitting in this moment and kneel before a holy God.
His power is still able. His grace is still sufficient. His hand is still not too short, that it cannot save.
If He could set free my twelve-year-old daughter on a hot, steamy day in June, who knew nothing about protocol or man made religion…
I promise, He can also heal you too.
Won’t you call on Him today?
(Posted w/ permission from my daughter. Her only request was that I post the churches name, Pursuit Seattle)
