I am saved.
That’s my powerful testimony. A wretch. Saved. Me.
As Christians, those 3 words which consists of 8 letters are priceless. I look forward to the day that I will soar on eagle’s wings and be in the presence of the Master that rescued me from an eternal fire pit. Me. He found ME worthy. I can’t grasp that.
I absolutely love sharing this journey that God and I have been on since He created me in my mother’s womb. The first 25 years were rather boring, but the last 22 have been action packed. There’s a truth in the saying that being “saved” does not make you immune to trials. The trials will and do come.
In a few weeks, I have the privilege to go and share with my friend, Tonja’s, women’s ministry. I get to share the miracles that I’ve seen. I get to talk about finding God in a hospital. I get to talk about the power of praying women. I get to talk about one blessing after another.
Satan has been on attack at every corner. He’s reminded me of the time I saw a social media post from a family member that said I wasn’t the “saint” I have portrayed myself to be. He’s reminded me that I’ve struggled with anxiety and found myself wallowing in self-pity. Ol’ Lucifer reminded me that I’m deaf. I have no business speaking in front of others and will make a fool of myself. He’s reminded me of how someone had negative things to say about how I go to church every time the doors are open because I’m a goody-goody. He has reminded me of the ugly thoughts I’ve had against my co-workers at times.
The old slitherer had me so worked up that I reached out to Megan. I shared with her that I felt like I needed to cancel my speaking engagement. The old crow “ripped me a new one” as we say in the south. She told me I needed to get my “crap” together. She reminded me that this isn’t about me , per se. It’s about being real and raw. No masks.
I’m no saint. Far from it. I’m the scum on the bottom of a true saint’s shoe. I’ve yelled at my kids. I’ve yelled at the car in front of me. I go to church every time the doors are open because I need it. It keeps me focused on the Master and not me. I don’t always like people. I’m deaf, but the good Lord gave me eyes to hear. I struggle every single day of my life. I’m a mess. But I’m HIS mess.
After the crow was finished with me, I didn’t send the message to cancel. You’ll find me at Frontline Biker Church sharing this journey that God has chosen me for. I pray that he’ll use me to give another sister hope:
I know he’ll be right by my side, as always.
Ain’t God good?