Lately church for me has been a struggle. I have spent lots of Sunday's faking it, not being fully committed. Just feeling indifferent. Times where I have stood in front of a group of kids and not been sure that anything that I was saying or doing really mattered. No sure that I was in the right place, that God had surely screwed up when He told me this was His plan for me. Today, if even just for a minute, that changed.
It has been something that was coming. Something that God has been stirring in me for quite awhile. Something that I was no longer able to avoid.
Some people hear God in a whisper..in the wind..in a quiet voice. None of those are really God's style with me. It's like he knows he has to scream if I am going to hear Him over the chaos I've created.
Today, He screamed at me through the hand of a 12 year old boy that I have gotten to know since his family moved to the church. A 12 year old boy that got out of his seat and walked to the front of the church, breaking every rule that 12 year old boys have about being noticed or showing emotion.
I was at the alter dealing with so many of the things that have convinced me that being indifferent with God is better than not being with God at all. As I was there praying, I felt a small hand on my back. A small, 12 year old boys hand that had come to pray with me.
I am not sure I have ever felt so humbled...so loved...so sure...so anything but indifferent.
The truth that I have been trying so hard to resist is that I have a passion for the kids of our church. A passion that sometimes doesn't have words, doesn't make sense and most definitely is far beyond anything that I would ever be capable of carrying out without God leading me.
A passion for loving God by loving these kids that has no room for indifference.
