The Day Lindsey Gave Her Life to the Lord

 

 

It’s Palm Sunday. The air is thick and cloudy and I’m staring out the window of my room at the fogged mountainside in the distance. You can’t deny it. It’s beautiful here. Nestled in the valley, a whole city sits hustling and bustling. I can hear the sound of the train and the walk sign and the honking cars. 

 

It’s busy out there and it’s busy in my heart. 

 

Our time in San Jose has been a quick flick. It even feels a little dreamy like a vacation rather than a missionary assignment. 

 

We’ve encountered deliverances, the story of a ministry born, watched prostitutes choose Jesus, heard the testimonies of drug dealers and gang members and confronted big questions about how to present the gospel and the grace that goes along with that. 

 

We’ve been in the thick of it – encountered the misfits, the sexually broken, the addicted and the left for dead. 

 

It’s not the bush of Africa or the quiet poverty of Guatemala – it’s something sharper and somehow something a little closer to home. Nevertheless, it’s sin, so we’re all familiar. 

 

And I’m tired. 

 

It’s been an emotionally draining week of cleaning out spaces of the demonic, cleaning out hearts of the demonic and battling my own sludge hidden deep away. 

 

I’ve learned that any physical place where the enemy has thrived is a place that the enemy will try to latch on. Testing. Seeing where he can land. 

 

I’ve felt tempted in more ways than one, hurt a few times and wrestled with the Lord on why. Jesus was tempted and so that’s a promise for me while here on Earth. 

 

But I’m battling well. I have the King of Kings on my side and the world of God at my right hand. 

 

I had asked the question initially when we got here, “What’s the point of going to San Jose for just one week?” I’m not the biggest fan of the REALLY short term missions. I tend to rock back and forth on their effectiveness which shocks no one. The Lord will surely break me of that mindset eventually right? 

 

And yet, I’m always looking for what mattered. And the good news? God always shows it to me. He meets me in my mechanical mind and my matter of fact heart. He sees me and he comforts me and he speaks the things I need and want to hear. I like to think of it like a boss treats an employee. As a leader who wants to protect retention, you learn the needs of each of your people and you validate them in their little specific spaces. Some people need a hard project every once in a while – they like a challenge. Some people need to hear they did a good job. Some people (me) need to hear that what they are doing is contributing to the bigger picture. 

 

I teach the word often. I pray for people often. It’s my job this year. It’s what I promised the Lord I would do. But I don’t always get to see the fruit of that seed I planted. I don’t always know whether or not a little tree grew.

 

And sometimes that’s hard. 

 

Knowing ministry doesn’t breed instant gratification is one thing – dealing with it on the daily is a different thing altogether. 

 

On the last day of our ministry in San Jose, we were serving for an event they call “Parenting and Pancakes.” It’s an opportunity to teach local women how to care well for their children and families. They come, get some life skills, sometimes a devotional and some breakfast. The ministry never knows who they’ll have and when. They open the doors and they let the holy spirit do the rest. 

 

Remember that woman from my last blog who prophesied about my hands? I had fallen in love with her over those five days. Honestly, I would have given her as much of my time as she needed. 

 

She hopped over to me excitedly and said, “Are you ready to lead the devotional?” 

 

“What devotional?” I said. 

 

Like an old movie reel my mind ticked and tangled over the last few days and I remembered that I had, in fact, promised to lead a lesson for the women at parenting and pancakes. 

 

Had I remembered and prepared for it? No way. 

 

“Of course I’m ready,” I said. 

 

I wasn’t. 

 

With ten percent panic, I prayed in the back of my head, “Lord, what do you want to share with these women today?” 

 

I quickly remembered the beauty for ashes materials we had prepared for Guatemala. 

 

“Ah, ha! That’ll do! Now, which one Lord?” 

 

The Lord took me back to the basics and asked that we do the identity verses in the bible and end with the story of the woman at the well. 

 

Easy enough. 

 

As I began teaching the identity verses, I was glad to see the women receptive and enjoying the content, but after about an hour of it, I started to wonder if everyone’s attention span could handle much more. 

 

Western thought I suppose but I also saw some impatient kids and yawns. 

 

I asked my friend “Should I wrap this up?” She excitedly said, “No keep going.”

 

I thought, “hmmm, maybe I should push back on that –  I think I might have lost em.” 

 

And then, that quiet little voice said, “Don’t end there. Tell the story of the woman at the well.” 

 

And then that other little voice said, “They’re bored. Are you really going to take them through more content? They’ve probably heard this one before anyway.” 

 

But I persisted. 

 

I started the reading and watched as my fear came to life. A baby started wailing. A women stepped out. Another left. 

 

“Ok Lord, really?”

 

About five minutes into the teaching, the door opened and a woman slinked in. Scowled. Red lipstick. Leopard Dress. Hair up. Eight Months Pregnant. 

 

My friend said, “It’s her first time. Her name is Lindsey.” 

 

“Interesting,” I thought. 

 

I kept on with the story as this woman stared me down, arms crossed, eyes ticking.

 

When I ended the story, I was relieved, I’ll say it. I was ready for a break and excited to cook lunch and chill with my team for a bit. 

 

After about half an hour of cooking lunch, my friend ran into the kitchen and asked me to follow her into the counseling room to pray for someone. 

 

She had tears in her eyes. 

 

When I got there, I saw Lindsey sitting there with tears in her eyes. My friend told me “She had never heard that story before and she was listening intently. She heard for the first time that God loves people no matter their past and today she’s chosen to give her life to Jesus.”

 

Heart Swell. Big Blink. Now I’m crying. 

 

I almost didn’t tell the story. I almost ended early. I got tired of the word. 

 

Man…..I don’t know why I ever doubt the power of God’s word and the stories He shares. What seems like a familiar story to me can change someones life. WHO AM I to predict the effect of the written word?

 

Humbled, I knelt at the feet of her and prayed a blessing over her new life in Christ and over her unborn baby (her sixth). 

 

“Welcome to the Kingdom, Lindsey! You’re whole life is about to change. Heaven rejoices for you today sister!” 

 

I paused to recognize the beauty in that statement and remembered my sister saying a version of that to me, telling me about how heaven was partying, hearing me choose the kingdom. It chokes me up even as I write now. 

 

And to think that I got to take a small part in that party and rejoicing, that God used me and sees me in that. What a beautiful thing. What a privilege.

 

Sometimes God is doing something BIG in a regular day with a seemingly regular bible story. Sometimes we just have to soldier through even when we can’t see the end goal and sometimes, just sometimes, he let’s you participate in the fruit and even take a bite out of it. 

 

And the best part? Lindsey’s baby is a girl. And her name? Arianna – The name of my squad leader, the one who nursed my head back to health and the one who has quickly become one of my closest friends and sisters in Christ. 

 

The symbolism certainly wasn’t lost on either of us. That witty Jesus, what a guy.