The Lord did something miraculous, and she didn't even see it.
If you've been with my blog for the last few months, you can tell my heart has been on fire lately because of the ministry I've gotten to be a part of. I've been involved in ministering to those in recovery from addictions and struggles of all kinds. And though it's not why I made this huge career move to this church, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt it's why the Lord has me here for now. This frontline ministry has been so life-giving. It's not an understatement to say, in many ways, I've come alive through it. There is such freedom in being in the center of the Lord's will, in being in community where you can be yourself, in ministering to those with zero pretense.
And over these last several weeks, the Lord has built a pathway in Women's Ministry for these ladies to encounter Jesus through His Word, and find authentic community with others who are ready to seek Him. They're seeing the Light and it's transforming them from the inside out. And I just get to watch Him work. And it's so, so beautiful.
To protect her privacy and our family's story, I don't yet feel right about sharing all the details publicly online, but last week, someone very dear to me unexpectedly came to this Wednesday night recovery group. She came on Sunday too. We hugged tight. I invited her to the Bible Study...
I tried not to get my hopes up. I really did.
But visions of her soaking in the Word with these ladies I had been pouring into flooded my soul. I so badly wanted it for her.
And the thing I'm most convinced of tonight is, so did Jesus. Why else would He build it for her, for women like her?
He woos us so deliberately. He gives us all we need.
I found out this afternoon she left her recovery home. She's out of state somewhere now. Adrift on turbulent skies, like a kite with no string. Again. It's her pattern, and I'm scared for her. Always have been. At least she let me know she was safe. I'm grateful for that.
Addiction is such an awful disease. And healing is so hard to grasp, even when it's offered by the most loving, nail-scarred hands.
My heart is broken tonight. I know I need to cry but the tears won't come...
I hug my daughters tight, kiss them goodnight. I'm so grateful for how they will grow up. It's hard to wrestle with the seeming injustice of it all. Why some people have to go through so much, and much of it because of their own, selfish choices... The world was offered, and she couldn't see it. She just couldn't see it.
The promise of safety is scary after a lifetime of pain. I know this intellectually. I've worked with the broken for most of my adult life. But my heart, my heart just doesn't understand it.
The cursor blinks on the screen and I have no other words. Just prayers whispered that feel so thin in comparison to her need.
Lord Jesus, keep her safe tonight. Bring her back home. To You.
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