I was going to say, “It’s almost over”…but that was weeks ago. Now that it’s actually ending, that sentiment seems unnecessary.
Here an 8-month journey is closing. Here where God brought my death more to life than ever. Where I was part of a team who passionately sought transformation of hearts on the field. Where I was physically and spiritually healed of sickness and shame. Where I found Jesus in strip clubs and brothels. Where freedom danced and God came over me like a rushing white wind and a deep rest.
Where I arrived with a church-sized chip on my shoulder and one day realized it has begun to be replaced with a bit of grace and love, only through God to be sure. So that when the southern Baptist preacher spoke of entering worship with a pressed linen shirt on a Sunday morning in Tennessee, I could take the grain of salt and still see that he genuinely loved his congregation and welcomed me in as family that one day.
Worship is a bloody shirt. It is not clean pressed. This much I know.
Worship is lives lived, hugs, pain, joy, laughter, paint, mud, tears, blood…
Everything is just beginning!
Thanks for sharing this part of the journey! There is so much more to come…