Her name was Lacy.
The last thing she said was, "I can't believe anyone
would love me."
I met her at a Waffle House on the highway just after
midnight, and she broke my heart.
Let me back up, and start the story over. It was sometime in August or September on a
Saturday afternoon. I drove thirty
minutes from my house to meet up with some friends. We met at the church to carpool out to
Batesburg, SC to attend a revival service at the Chapel in the Woods. We piled in each other's cars and were on our
way. It was about an hour drive until we
got to the Chapel. We pulled up to our
usual parking spots and entered in. The
friendly older people that always held the door greeted us as we set our stuff
down and began to pray with them over the service. There was a feeling of expectation in the air
that was almost tangible in itself.
The service began with people overflowing out of the
sanctuary into the lobby. There were
people there from all different denominations.
There were blacks, whites, asians.
There were bikers, hipsters, blue-hairs.
But it felt like family. As Matt
played on the piano and we lifted our hands to worship, something filled the
room. It was the sweetest feeling of
peace and jubilation. It was the
recognition that this is what we were made for.
It was the presence of God. It
was the Holy Spirit in us.
As we pressed into the presence of God and cried out for
more of him, the atmosphere thickened until it got to the point people to left
and right of me were falling to their knees repenting and rejoicing in the same
breath. It's funny how when God steps
into a room, everything else fades away, and we understand why we were made,
and who it was that made us. It is a
feeling that is extraordinarily indescribable.
I soon joined their ranks as my knees gave way to the weight of his
glory. Such remorse filled my heart to
see the areas of my life that God was not in control of, but a greater joy took
their place. A joy of knowing that he
was doing something new in me. I looked
around and saw that everyone was experiencing the same thing I was. There were people weeping, lying on the
ground, laughing, smiling, dancing, singing, praying. It looked like the church. It was impossible to deny that something was
different in that place. Damon Thompson,
the preacher, tossed aside his notes and beckoned us to wait on God. And we did.
Three hours later, the music died down, and we opened our
eyes and looked around with a look of did that just happen? written across our
faces. It was like nothing I had ever
experienced before. I felt so full. Full of love. Of joy. Of peace. Purpose.
Identity.
As they dismissed, we made our way back to our cars in a
collective stupor. We had our ritual of
taking way too long to decide where we wanted to eat, but eventually decided on
Waffle House. We made the drive back
towards our side of town and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle
House. We went in and took up a few
booths talking about what God had done while waiting to be served. As we were talking, my friend Rebecca noticed
a girl sitting at the bar who was about our age. She was wearing a short dress and heels, and
she looked like hell. She was beautiful,
but she looked like hell. Miserable
hell.
Rebecca went up to talk to her. We knew Rebecca was going to share with her
the goodness and the love of Jesus and invite her to come and take a seat with
us. We waited for a bit as they
talked. As they finished their
conversation, the girl walked outside. Rebecca followed behind her. I looked out the window as the girl got into
a car, and Rebecca crawled into the back seat of our car. We placed our orders and waited. Rebecca still didn't come back in. Eventually, my friend Garrett and I realized
that something wasn't right. We went out
to the car to check on Rebecca. We found
her curled up in floorboard of the backseat.
Her eyes were bloodshot and throat stopped up from the violence of her
weeping. We asked her what had
happened. This is what she told us.
The girl she had spoken with went by the name Lacy. Rebecca had heard a word from the Lord about
Lacy and told it to her. Lacy
immediately was startled, but began opening up to Rebecca. Lacy was a prostitute, looking for
business. She was no older than 22 or
23. Rebecca told Lacy that God loved her
and he wasn't upset at her. She was his
daughter and he treasured her. She told
her about the goodness and kindness of God that leads men to repentance. Lacy began telling Rebecca about her life and
confessed that after all she had done, "She couldn't believe that God
could love her." Lacy walked out to
go back about her business.
Lacy was a girl was had believed the lie of the world that
her worth was determined by how many perverted old men took advantage of her so
that she could pay her bills. She saw
herself as worthless. As an instrument for perversion. The look in her eyes was one that cried out
loneliness, self-hatred, and despair.
She had been so blinded by the grossness of sin that she couldn't see
the truth of the love of God. She had
settled for a life of helplessness because she didn't believe she was anything
more than dust.
As Rebecca told us this choking back tears, my heart broke. To see Rebecca hurt so badly for Lacy gave me
a glimpse of God's heart. How
desperately does he long for us to find ourselves in him? How badly does he wish for us to see a better
way of life?
I got in my car to drive home and an anger welled up inside
of my. God, how could you stand by and
do nothing? Don't you love Lacy? And why would you put Rebecca through that? Do you not care? Is your heart not breaking?
In the moment, I began to feel such a guilt. We had just left a service where we saturated
in the glory of God for over three hours.
We didn't need it. We were
OKAY. Lacy wasn't. Lacy desperately needed God to break into her
situation and show her the love of a Father that doesn't use her then lose
her. I yelled at God for thirty minutes,
all the way home. I yelled until my
voice gave out and I had no more tears to cry.
I went to bed boiling with these thoughts.
I woke up the next morning, and I felt the Lord whisper,
"That was my heart breaking."
In a moment I realized that God was trying to show us the selfishness
and self-centeredness that we had been operating in. How insincere of us to wallow in the glory
and never go after the prodigal. How
naive of us to fill our pockets with seeds, never intending to gather a
harvest, let alone plant anything. How
twisted to withhold the medicine from the sick.
I knew then that God had not sent us to Lacy that
night. He had sent Lacy to us. He wanted to show us what is meant to be
broken for the lost. He wanted to show
us that church was never meant to be in a building. He wanted to show us that there were people
waiting for us. He wanted to show us
that greater things were to be done. He
wanted to show us that belief requires action
He wanted to show us his heart.
And that's what we found.
Never in my life have I been so desperate to see people
realize that there is a greater life to be lived in Christ. Never have I so
burned for the prodigals to return home so that I may celebrate with him.
What are we doing in our steeples? With our light shows? and concerts? and
fitness centers? and pumpkin patches? and coffee and muffins? Why are we having potlucks with no guests?
Why do we disagree over what verse to put on the back of our ineffective
evangelical t-shirts?
There are people out there that need what we have. It is a crime not to bring it to them.
My heart breaks over my own selfishness and disbelief.
It burns with one desire.
What are we doing for Lacy?
In His Grip,
Jakoby/ Jacobo
Col.3:3
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