My road to Emmaus

Worship at church had just ended, it was so sweet and precious, and the presence of God was just so beautiful. I was the service coordinator so it was my responsibility to greet the visitors, pray over the offering, and make any announcements that we had for the day. A group from our church was going to be leaving for a mission trip to Africa this week, so I called up Sally Jo, one of the moms who’s 3 daughters were going, so she could share about an upcoming fund raiser and also the days and times they were going so we could keep them covered in prayer. She shared, and then through tears asked Stacy, another woman going to Africa, to share a testimony of their Krispy Kreme fund raiser from the day before.

I’ve always thought Stacy was just kind of, well, flaky, and really never paid her much attention. She was a 45 year old “church floater” who seemed to never plug in and become grounded in the church establishment with a “covering” anywhere. I guess I’ve been taught that people like that have no roots. Apparently I’ve believed that the Word says that we are like trees planted by the rivers of living churches, instead of living waters like it actually says. As if living water from the Holy Spirit comes directly through the church only. Church membership. So I’m thinking Stacy’s going to start sharing about their great sale, and I’m smiling ever so politely, because I hate fund raisers. I don’t know why. I always have. I’m not a good salesmen, and I’m not a good beggar. She starts her story by telling us she’s going from business to business selling them, and God tells her, “you’re doing it all wrong. Go back to Wal Mart, you give away prayer, I’ll sell the doughnuts” What?? Oh my gosh. I can only imagine what’s coming now. (this would be me rolling my eyes)

So, they already have a table set up outside of Wal Mart where they have been selling there. Stacy tells Naomi, a friend from Toledo, “make posters, however you want to, but put on them that we are offering free prayer”. Oh my gosh. Now I’m really listening. She really is crazy! But is that really how I feel? Something inside of me is so suprised that she is bold/crazy enough to do this, yet at the same time, it’s like I recognize this zeal….like it’s a friend I haven’t seen in years. God has my attention now…maybe even more than just my attention.

They put up their posters, set out a jar for donations for the doughnuts, and turned their back on the Krispy Kremes to pray for those who are asking for prayer. Yes, there are people asking for prayer! People are also walking by and just stuffing money in the donation jar, without even taking the doughnuts. People are in line WAITING for prayer!! One lady gets prayer, is concerned about a possible cancerous spot on her back, and also needs a $10,000 miracle, would they please pray for her. They do, she gives them an envelope with a check in it for their fund raiser. They don’t look at it until much later, but it ended up being $750! They spent the entire time there praying for anyone who came to the door at Wal Mart that would like prayer. They also took $20 out of their money in ones, and started giving one dollar bills away. But not just giving them away. Naomi prayed over the people that God knew the money would go to, and she began writing prophecies on the money, and then went and handed them out! This was crazy! But was it??

I listened to this story and realized that I had become so religious. Like a cloud without water. Having the form but denying the power. How? My Christianity existed inside of a box. A church box. I would have NEVER prayed for people outside of Wal Mart! I didn’t know why, until God showed me later, but I know that I wouldn’t have done it. But something inside of me was so desperate to be that person who would. I USED TO BE that person who would!! That wasn’t boldness, that was freedom. And I decided I wanted freedom. But I wasn’t sure how to find it.

After church, I spent some time talking with Naomi. Who’s Naomi? Well, she’s a sweet 17 year old girl who looks like a rainbow. Her hair is red and orange and blue and purple and whatever other color she wants it to be. And her clothes are the same. And the light and love of God emanates from her with just as much color! I knew she was from Toledo, and heard that she lived in a “ministry house”, but wasn’t quite sure what that meant. She told me that her mom died, and her dad didn’t want her, and that this couple named George and Sarah met her, and led her to Jesus, and took her in. So now she lives at The Lewis House.

I asked her what she does there. Why is this a “ministry house”. Is it because they take in people? No. She said it’s like a mission house. The people who live there are missionaries to inner city Toledo. She has a “bread ministry”. What does that look like? Well, businesses donate bread to the Lewis House, and Naomi is the “bread girl”. She takes the bread into homes in the inner city where they live, and gives it away to them. Every week. And tells them Jesus loves them. And gets to know people that way. And all of these little girls follow her home and come and hang out with her and play pool, or ping pong, or whatever at the house. So now she is reaching out to them too.

As she’s sharing this, I feel like I am suddenly becoming aware of this big, beautiful “structure” that I’ve built in my life that consists of ministry, but is completely empty. Empty of touching people in their place of need. Empty of BEING God’s love to people. Empty of true love for people. When did it become about the machine? When did it become about the “ministry establishment”, the structure, instead of the people? I stood there looking at Naomi, this girl with rainbow colored hair, who is eminating PASSION for giving BREAD to those in need, and saw who I used to be. Who I am inside. And who I wasn’t anymore. I’d become a recluse. A church recluse. And that girl full of life and passion and love on the inside of me had died.

By now, I was quite a mess inside. With tears in my eyes I asked Stacy and Naomi if they would please pray for me. Like right now. I told them I can see who I used to be in Naomi, and I don’t know how to be who I am again, but I am desperate. And yes, Stacy, who was an “immature church floater”, but knew why she was on this earth. So why have them pray for me? Because while I am using my faith for houses and offerings and church services, they are outside of the church living their faith for salvation of souls. For the love of God to touch people. Why have them pray for me? Because for the first time in 14 years I had to face the truth that while I am doing everything according to “ministry protocol” and lining up with the “ways of the church”, and Stacy is not…..she has fruit, and I do not. Much fruit. She’s touched many. They’ve been saved, healed, set free. It’s as natural to her as breathing. Oh, I have fruit too. Old fruit. The same old fruit. That we just keep rubbing and rubbing. Sitting in a box together. Spoiled and dried. I want fresh fruit!!

We went into the prayer room and they began to pray for me. Stacy was praying for me, and it was good, she led me in prayer, but I was so desperate for Naomi to pray for me. When she did, it was just sweet, simple, pure, yet profound. She prayed that everything and every word that has been spoken over me or believed by me that is “not who I am” would just be broken off of me, and that God would show me who I am once again.

And then Stacy says, “can you go to Toledo for the night?” What?? I knew at that moment that I was going, as crazy as it sounded, and I didn’t even know why they were going there. Stacy explained that she was going down for one night to take Naomi home, and to pick up a friend of hers at the Detroit Airport the next morning, and then we’d be right back home Monday afternoon. She wanted me to see the Lewis House. To meet George and Sarah. To meet the residents who live there. And maybe they’d have a worship time that night, a soaking time together to just worship God.

Everything in me felt like I was suppose to go, but there

was one small issue. My husband and 5 kids. And Eric’s first day off in 9 months. In my heart, even though I’d waited 9 long months for him to finally have a day off for a family day, it suddenly became so very not important in comparison to the road I knew God was wanting to take me down. I knew there would be many more family days. But maybe not many more opportunities to follow the Spirit of God into my freedom. I told them I had to ask Eric, and that God would have to do it. And it would be a miracle if he agreed to this. They prayed for favor, and we parted ways agreeing to call each other in an hour when they were leaving. One hour. Favor, a family day, only one hour, and my road to Emmaus. What would God do?

Eric and I began our drive home, and very quietly I said to him “I want to go to Toledo for the night, until tomorrow morning”. His response…”WHAT?!” I explained to him the trip, and that I really felt like I was suppose to go, that God had something for me. I told him about how I was feeling, and how I had asked them to pray for me, and that I really felt like I needed to go to the Lewis House. Now, if you know Eric, he’s not so much all for me going and spending an evening in the ghettos of Toledo. Eric the “man” would have freaked out and said no way. Not without him, not 3 wo

men traveling alone, it would have just never happened. But he also knew how I have always felt about Stacy, and that I wouldn’t just hop in a car to go for a ride with her to another state just for fun, because I couldn’t stand spending 5 minutes with her previous to this. So Eric the “man of God” said yes. He was sad, because it was our family day, and I could see the struggle in him to let me follow where the Spirit of God was leading me. He even cried because we’ve waited so long for this day off. But he agreed. I knew that was favor. That was God moving in his heart. Eric had no idea where I would be, what I would be doing there, who these people were, or anything else. And he still agreed to stay home with the kids and let me go. I know that was a seed planted by him that was bigger than any seed he’s ever planted in his entire life. I know it is. And he planted it through tears and anguish, grief and disappointment.

I made a phone call, threw some clothes in a bag, and left half an hour later….and began my walk….on my road to Emmaus.

to be continued…..

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