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Print In nearly every meeting, my youth pastor encourages the youth staff in our relationship with God by reminding us of the story of the woman with the issue of blood. When she touched Jesus, Jesus immediately responded with, “Who touched me?” noting that virtue had left Him (Luke 8:46). So my youth pastor is quick to remind our staff that the same is true with us. Every time we minister to someone, a little of the strength and spirit within us is given over to them. That being the case, why on earth do we, so often reminded of this truth, fail to find our way to being refilled? And by we, I mean I. I’ve written a billion devotions in which I’ve discussed the dry seasons of our spiritual walk, and the grace God gives us during these times. I have gone on about the necessity of John’s time in the wilderness before his ministry could come to fruition. Why has this topic been so important to me? Making excuses for myself, perhaps? Explaining away my own drought, rather than facing the truth? After all, it isn’t as though I don’t live at the church. It’s not as though I’m not involved in some way in nearly every ministry that exists at my thriving church. How could I admit that I teach Sunday school and mid-week classes with the feeling that no virtue could leave me, I’ve none to give? How could I admit, even to myself, that as I minister to the youth and encourage their relationships with God that I’ve nothing to give them? This weekend my excuses fell away. As humans we can justify nearly every behavior—but how could I justify the hollowness inside me? I couldn’t, I didn’t want to, and, for the first time in my life, I felt desperate. I’ve never wanted or needed anything that I couldn’t get. Everything I ever really wanted fell easily into my hands. Not this time—but then I’ve never wanted anything the way I wanted God to begin to replenish my spirit. I was desperate. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I just lay there in my own emptiness and wept. But a funny thing happened as I did. The funny thing was that God did not fill me up overflowing. I admit that I had fully expected it of Him. After all, hadn’t He always done it before? Instead, I began to feel God permeate the cracks. He slowly added a little strength, a little nourishment, a little moisture, and, as my dry soul consumed it, He added a little more. Still, God didn’t overflow me with His Spirit. I walked out of that service touched, strengthened, and with a place to start. What God gave me was a chance, and now it was my turn. The dry place had been satisfied, and, on Monday morning when I cracked open my Bible, I noticed the water level seemed to rise a little. On Wednesday as I talked to Him I felt a little more strengthened, a little more full. And tonight, as I told Him how I felt, I reveled in the rise in my spirit. I had been so empty and desperate, and I just expected God to make it better. And He is, and He will. Every day I gain a little, and I find myself feeling full with His joy and His power. But it’s an everyday thing. I hope I find myself always that desperate, but I refuse to ever find myself so empty again. When I minister I have to have something to give, and a source to replace it.
ninetyandnine.com © 2004 Sarah K. Holland --------- Sarah K. Holland is buried under a pile of grading in Pontiac, MI, where she constantly reminds herself she that she asked God for this job. In her spare time she is confused about what one does with spare time. |
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