I'd carried around this pretentious, dark, snide attitude around with me. Whenever I'd look at Michael or Titus or even Anthony, I'd have this quiet voice deep in my mind saying awful things like
"I feel sorry for them, that they can't know God the way I do."
"What's with them? Don't they that what they're doing is wrong?"
I'd walk around with my Bible trivia locked up in my head, the praise songs in my iPod, and the hectic weekends trying to "serve God", with this self-righteous, pompous, just plain ugly heart.
And I wondered why my heart had grown cold in the midst of all this campy church nonsense.
I desperately hoped that the Deer Park retreat would stir some kind of emotion in my unfeeling heart.
But it did much more than that.
During the night services, everyone dropped to the floor in prayer, in desperation not unlike my own. People were sobbing, clutching their chests, holding each other as if a national tragedy had occurred instead of just a few dozen people sitting in a prayer circle. In the beginning, I was worried this would be another long, gratuitous prayer session I'd mumble a few generic words into. Instead, something different happened.
I prayed.
I prayed for the people in the room with me, I prayed for the pastors, I prayed for every single person that had no one else to reach out to but God. But what really touched me that night were the simple prayers of the people I saw as wretched sinners whom had lost their way.
"Lord, I want to pray for Easter. Give her strength to do the things that I was not strong enough to do. Keep her from the path that I took. Lord, I watch her, and I see things that I was not able to do. Lord, strengthen her with Your hand."
"God, I want to come to You, but I keep running away. I know I've done some things in my life that I'm not proud of, and I need You, but I'm too ashamed to face You. Lord, I keep running away from You. I'm sorry God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Hearing those prayers made me drop to my knees, ashamed. These were people whom I looked at as sinners, people so lost and unsaved. The pastors at church always tell me to humble myself, to humble myself. I didn't realize what a proud human being I was, so far from the humility I thought that I already had. But that night, it took two honest prayers to break my heart and cast me down from the pedestal I'd put myself on. I thought to myself, "When did I lose my way?"
I wept bitterly, for the shame of the me that was revealed that night, and also for healing to be brought to those two people that made me open my eyes. I thought that I was racking up points up in heaven for all the serving, the QTs, the perfect church attendance, when I was missing the point of it all: to bring your heart to God.
I hope that one day they'll know how much their prayers meant to me that night, and how their lives are an inspiration to make myself the person I thought I was all along. God bless.
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know, right now you can't tell
I know, right now you can't tell
But soon enough, you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
-Matchbox 20
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