Intersections, a sequel of sorts

A few weeks ago I wrote about a young woman I know with four children, for whom I pray, with whom I'd lost contact.  I got a single comment on the blog post, reminding me to pray, reminding me that it's worth it to pray.

I had been praying for this young woman, and thinking enough about her to merit a blog post, but that comment spurned me on to pray more specifically.  More specifically that I'd be able to get back in contact with this young woman.  More specifically that I'd be able to be a part of their lives again, that the Word of God could once again have entrance into their home, perhaps by way of the Sunday School paper, or a calendar.

This past Saturday, I was busy.  My grandma's doing poorly, I had a babysitting gig, things felt hectic, but I'd been away and decided it really was high time I visited around my Sunday School neighborhood.  I arrived to my usual houses and the first person I saw, out playing on the lawn, was her little six-year-old boy.  I got out of my car, at least 90% sure that I was seeing things, but he came running up to me.  "Miss Joanne, Miss Joanne!"  His older sister (but not the oldest, who was with her grandma) came up, a boundless ball of seven-year-old energy.  "We miss you!"

Many hugs ensued.  "I've missed you, too."

Here, right in front of me, was an answer to a prayer I'd been praying.  I had been praying, but honestly, until I saw their happy little faces, right in front of me, it didn't cross my mind that I really hadn't exhibited a lot of faith in my prayers.  Did I think I could get back in contact with them?  Yeah, I mean, I guess so.  Did I firmly believe it?  No.

Their mom was in one of the apartments, getting water.  When she came out I gave her a big hug.  I'd really, really missed her.  She had the baby with her--a beautiful little boy named Anton Jr.  He's perfect.  We didn't talk much, my friend and I, but I got her new number and she said I could stop by their new place sometime.  I played tag with the two little ones for a few minutes, by which time she'd packed up the baby in the car and was ready to go.

I stood in the parking lot, waving them away.  The wind was slightly biting, so as soon as they were gone I carried on, but you have to understand, my smile was brighter,  my steps were lighter.  The Lord showed me, in this small but incredible way, that of COURSE He's able.  The fact that she and I overlapped by probably only ten minutes, on a day where I had enough going on that my schedule was so unpredictable, is such a little picture to me of how the Lord orchestrates everything.

So if you're praying for something, for someone, keep at it.  If you're praying for a single mother of two who recently had a birthday, keep at it.  If you have a broken heart, keep praying for grace.  If you know someone who is still lost in their sins, keep praying for their salvation.  If you know someone who's in over their heads, keep praying for them to seek out the Lord in their depths.  If you know someone who daily is choosing to reject this world and choose Jesus, keep praying that they might continue to train their eyes on Him and Him alone.  If you know a broken family, pray for healing.  If you know of someone who has a big decision coming up, pray for wisdom.

The Lord our God is able.  He is mighty to save, and His grace is sufficient for all of our needs.  His mercies, which are new every morning, are available for us.  May we daily seek Him, may we daily make our requests made known until God.  He's got this.

Second Chances

My brother and I were talking about second chances the other day. Sure, there are second chances, but can we really go back to the way things were? When something starts over can it really be a continuation of the original product, or does it have to be built on a new foundation?

Actually, we weren't really getting that philosophical about it, it went more like this:

My brother: "It was stupid that [so-and-so] said that they could never start again."

Me: "I know, right?"

But I sort of ended up thinking about it a little more on the side, so these thoughts were what I've been pondering about it.

The song Castaway by Chasen (love these guys!) always reminds me of this thought. The last line of the chorus says, "And I know You gave me a gift of a second chance." Even though I was saved when I was quite young, and sometimes bemoan the fact that I don't have a dramatic story of being saved from a live of unhealthy addictions (actually, I'm fine with that fact, trust me), I still love knowing that my whole life is a second chance. And when I mess up (and I do, sigh), the Lord stands, waiting, holding out His hands, willing to give me that second chance.

It's only through His grace that such opportunities exist. His grace extended to Rahab, giving her a whole new life, a new chance, and a lineage of joy. To King David a second chance was given, even after his indiscretion with Bathsheba and murder of Uriah. To me, when I stray, and cease to seek His voice in favor of my own way, He stands, giving chance after chance.

Oh, plus, there's Israel. Nearly every chapter in the Bible has an account of yet another time the Lord gave them yet another chance, and saved their day yet again.

He's a God of second chances. And even though we humans are weak and can't go back to where things started and truly start anew, God can. The cross was the starting point for all of our second chances, and through his gift to us of our second life, we have the assurance of knowing that in His eyes, we begin through the work of the cross. My second chance is possible because of His sacrifice. My eternal life--and rescue from the second death--is mirrored out in everything I do, or He does through me, because Jesus Christ gave His life for me.

It makes every day worth living. And every second chance that we extend, worth giving.

The same grace

I remember the first time I ever heard a mournful Christian say something to the effect of, "Boy, I sure do wish I'd been a drunkard or something." Instead of appalling me, like maybe it should have, I thought, "Boy, I sort of wish the same thing." Not that I want to be a drunkard, because I certainly do not, but because sometimes when other people have these awesome conversion stories, it makes those of us saved-while-innocent-children people feel sort of badly that we haven't really had a chance to show forth the amazing grace of God like all the heathens around us.


But someone was talking about this the other day, and it was one of these "good point" moments I love so much. Basically, what's the difference, this person was saying, because at the end of the day, both of you are saved. I've heard that all my life, but I was just so happy to hear someone say it again, and so forcefully. The amazing grace that saved John Newton is the amazing grace that saved me--even if I never sold slaves or turned my back on God.

I don't remember getting saved, but I know I am saved, at that is enough for me.

PS, I still sort of wish I could remember getting saved. And sometimes I still wish I'd been a total heathen before that day, just so my testimony would be awesome. But I've been spared all that pain, so it's more than OK.