I’m sitting here on a delayed train in Kings Cross. It’s Sunday, nearly midnight and I’ve been away from home since early Saturday morning… I’ve just wolfed down an unhealthy late meal and am reflecting on how I have spoken at 6 different events, trained some people from Purley Baptist in ‘getting out there’ as well as teaching and preaching at 3 of the services. It was good, and busy. Lots of people were enthused by what I brought, children loved the balloons and the Mr Tumble cheerfulness and fun.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a great time… I can’t quite put my finger on this strange feeling. Why me? Look, I know about God’s call and all that jazz, but it still leaves me perplexed and strangely humbled. I just don’t see at times what I have to offer. Yet it is God who seems to have this thing for using weak not together people like me…
It seriously is such a privilege that in my puzzled state I get to pray with people, hear their deepest heart ache and struggles and join them to dare to believe in the God of miracles. And then I see Him at work.
As I got ready to beat a hasty retreat and catch my train tonight – a teenager with her dad asked if we could pray. We sat on the floor together and her situation and pain that she had been going through was heart breaking, yet she carried such hope. In my heart I cried out, please God, for such a time as this… May I see you heal and restore a hopeless situation. May the time away from family and hard work and standing in front of large groups of people with my heart racing… May it all be worth it for this moment. We prayed and while something dramatic didn’t happen there and then I felt that unmistakable solid, yet fragile sense that God had answered our prayers.