Stirring the waters Part 3

Stirring the Waters—Part III
Little changes happened here and there. I was on a roller coaster between hope and hopelessness, but God was always in the background working things for the good on my behalf. And then He shared His heart with me in the form of a dream that felt more like a nightmare.
In the last few hours of my sleep, I awoke from the most horrifying nightmare ever. It was about 3:30 in the morning, and I could hear myself calling out for my husband, but I couldn't wake up. I felt something moving me, but I didn't know I was dreaming or that my husband was trying to wake me. In the dream, my 23-year-old son was holding me in his arms while I cried out for his father. He told me his dad was dead. I screamed, “No!” while sobbing uncontrollably. That's when I began calling out my husband’s name.
At that moment in the dream, I was alone. I was completely and utterly alone. I felt I had been abandoned by everyone, including God himself. Mind you, I know what loneliness and fear is, but this…. words cannot describe how utterly horrible this was. I have never to my recollection, in my 50 years of life, felt so completely abandoned and alone. I felt like I had been to the utter depths of hell.
When I woke, I was crying. I continued to sob great tears, and no amount of comfort from my husband would take away the pain. I begged him to please make his life right with God. I told him to not ever let a day go by without praying. I scooted back to my side of the bed and shook uncontrollably as I prayed silently until, at some point, I felt a peace and drifted off into a quiet and undisturbed sleep.
I'm not sure how long I slept, but I remember seeing 4:00 on the bedroom clock. And then I believe the clock said 4:30 the next time I looked. During the awake times, I told God I was going to be his Jacob from the story about Jacob wrestling with an angel, and I told Him I would not let go until He blessed me. Then, I must have drifted off for a longer sleep after that because the clock read 6:14 when I saw it again.
Now, I have made up my mind that, no matter what I must go through, I will not quit living for God. The waters have been stirred, and I am no longer stagnate. I think it will be a long time--if ever--before I forget that night and the struggle that came with it. If my calling is to fight for souls in my dreams, I will be obedient even if it causes me pain.
I still don't know where God is taking me or my marriage, and I am okay if I am never known to man or for any calling humans consider special. I am known to God, and that's who matters. Don't worry though; I'm not going to abandon my passions. Instead, I'm going to embrace them wherever they lead me. I'm going to be content to be part of the body that may never be in the spotlight, and that's okay as long as God keeps stirring the waters of His Holy Spirit within me. And, maybe someday soon, I'll have a post to share about my marriage restoration and my husband having a deeper walk with God. In the meantime, I encourage all who have read these posts to keep on seeking until you get an answer, and always be willing to let God move in you—even if you have to go to sleep to get quiet enough to hear His voice.

Stirring the waters Part 2

Stirring the Waters—Part II
My husband did continue to pray off and on, but for both of us, the spiritual waters were not stirring things to the changes we needed. One day, in the early hours of the morning sometime after midnight, I awoke with pain in my side that was so severe, I thought I must have cracked a rib. I woke him and asked him to pray. The conversation was not pleasant, so I kept silent and cried out to God. I was as close to hopelessness as ever.
Then, a few days later, someone came to me during prayer meeting and asked God to send His angels. It was a divine appointment that this person was there because they hadn’t been able to be there for the three weeks before that. In the Spirit, they saw God taking a broken heart and putting it back together like the pieces of a puzzle. When they told me that, I cried loud and wept a flood of tears because the pain was so intense. Then came a comfort, but God wasn’t through yet.
We all gathered around to pray for the needs of church members--and any other need that had been spoken. Somebody whispered in my ear, "God told me to tell you, ‘It's not your fault what happened.’" More tears flooded my eyes as I sobbed uncontrollably. I felt God telling to me write a blog post titled It's Time to Stir the Waters. I didn't understand why He would want me to write that because I felt so stagnate.
Even with the breakthrough, I went about my days on auto pilot. I gave up on everything I knew and loved, except church--where I went with a smile and pretended life was great. I wanted to stay home and bury my head under the covers, but I kept going, hoping for something to get me through. I sought counseling, but the cost was too overwhelming. I sought books, but I could find none I felt would work. Finally, we counseled with the pastor, but that came to naught. He did his best, but it would take the two of us following his advice, and that wasn’t happening.
The following Sunday night, instead of going out after church, I chose to come home early to spend time with my husband. I was not met with the joyful welcome I hoped for. Here we were again, two strangers back to where it all began ten horrible months before. As a side note; over a year ago, we were advised to create a joint Facebook account. I’m not saying all marriages need this, but for us, there were serious consequences of having separate Facebook streams.
But God doesn't leave us in stagnate waters if we seek Him for our rescue. So, recently I attended some Monday Bible study services despite not really wanting to go. I'm not sure why, but those two weeks opened my eyes to spiritual things I didn't even know existed. It was a slow stirring at first, but then I started paddling like a swimmer who was fighting for her very existence, let alone life after she got to shore. I began again to search for my purpose; for my calling that I had nearly thrown away. See part three for the most recent move of the Holy Spirit in the waters of my life.

Stirring the waters part 1

Stirring the Waters—Part I
For some time now, I have felt that God was leading in a direction other than what I was going. People at church were being prophesied over, and it was preached that God was calling us to a new place where we have never been before. The ministers invited those who felt the calling to come forward for prayer. Though I felt the tugging at my heart, I stayed at my seat.
I didn't know if I even had a calling, and I highly doubted that was God was calling me into anything because every position I thought I could be used in was already taken. So, carefully, I weighed my options. Prayer warrior? No, that wasn’t for me; I didn’t spend enough time in prayer and Bible reading for that. Besides, it seemed everyone who could be a prayer warrior had already been appointed. (Pride? Maybe. There was a good possibility that was holding me back.)
I felt the calling to be an altar worker, but I never went through with it because I felt I wasn’t good enough to lay hands on anyone. I figured I had to have the ability to lay hands on someone and guarantee they would feel a touch from the Holy Ghost--just like I do when certain people lay hands on me. My thoughts went toward working with the young people at our church. I had a very difficult time as a young person and felt, if I could give my testimony, it might help another young person. But, as it turned out, that calling did not belong to me. I guessed I would just have to be satisfied with doing periodic photography for church events.
Then the unthinkable happened: A storm so big in my life, it threatened to crush me beneath the weight; a storm that affected my marriage and, therefore, my life. At that point, whether I had a calling just didn't matter. I decided I was just good enough to exist and nothing more.
See, my husband had been suffering from something, I don't know what, for a very long time. Perhaps it was depression, or maybe it was PTSD from childhood trauma. Because of it, he lived a very separate life from me even though we dwelt in the same house. My life consisted of church and church activities; his consisted of working, eating, sleeping, and a few other things in which I was not included. Things got so bad, we talked about divorce, but I wasn’t ready for that. We also talked about living in the same house as roommates. I didn't want that either, but I finally decided that would be best.
I got up one morning with every intention of telling him we would live like roommates. But before I did, as a last-ditch effort (and with very little faith it would matter) I gave him a hug on his way out the door for work and asked if he wanted to pray. He did. This was the first time we had prayed together in years. Later that day, he sent me a text telling me that it felt good to pray with me. Those were comforting words. I wish I could say that became a daily habit and a permanent attitude change, but the struggle continued. I'll tell you more tomorrow.