Summer. 2010. I am sitting in my back garden, watching my plants grow. Spending
a lot of time there doing a lot of nothing, burned out from years of breaking up hard
ground in prayer ministry and years of personal hardship on the home front. So here I
am. Resting. Watching and waiting. Listening to what God has to say. Getting a little
cranky, because I had been listening for four months, and He hadn’t seemed to be in the
mood to talk.
Finally, I feel His word touch my heart.
“I want you to spend the next season investing in the next generation of prayer leaders.”
“The young ones, Lord? How on earth is that going to happen? I’m not cool enough!”
I groused. “If I plan a prayer meeting, fourty year old ladies come – at least that’s what
has happened for the last 10 years! We’ve been trying to connect to young adults, but
they’re not interested!” Like Sara of old, I laugh at God’s outrageous plans.
I say yes anyway. His directions don’t make any sense to me, but what else am I going to
say? He is, after all, God.
Yes. It’s amazing what big things get released by such a little word.
Fall. 2010. I am standing on the deck of a boat on the Sea of Galilee. Wind whipping
my hair about. Sun warming my skin. The captain of our ship stands at the prow – net
in hand. “These are the kinds of nets that the disciples would have used, back in the day.
Though they wouldn’t have caught any fish with them at this depth – they were only used
for shallow water fishing”. He flings the net – it glints on the water, and gets pulled back
The nets were for shallow water fishing? Waitaminit! On the day that the disciples
weren’t catching anything, Jesus told them to go out to the deep and cast their nets!
The deep water, where they normally wouldn’t catch anything. All of a sudden I
understood Luke 5 completely differently. God wasn’t telling them to simply try again
– He was telling them to try something completely different. Something that they knew
from experience wouldn’t work! I can just imagine the guys in the boat. Weary and
waterlogged. Discouraged and disgruntled. “He wants us to what?” They look at one
another, shrug, and point the prow away from shore. They say yes. There is that little
word again. The spiritual transaction that sets in motion events larger than they could
ever ask or imagine.
Spring. 2011. Somehow I am neck deep in young adults. I don’t know how it happened,
but all of a sudden they’re calling me, and texting me, and poking me on Facebook. I’m
logging many hours at the Mulberry Café (and drinking way too much cappuccino),
sitting across from young men and women as they share their heart for the Hamilton and
their longing for a deeper, more vital prayer life. I buy myself a big chunky thumb ring
– just to be a little cooler. I’m having more fun in ministry than I have ever had in my
life – the air is electric with excitement and pregnant with Divine purpose. God, who
had been silent for so long, is ordering my steps, speaking new instructions to my heart
almost every day. Sometimes unlikely things. Outrageous things. Things that I can’t
imagine how they could ever work. But you know what I do?
I say yes.