[I interrupt this sabbatical for a message from my Sponsor...]
Tucked into the middle of the swarming hallway of 650 women abuzz, the prayer room. The busy, the chaos, the excitement, the nerves, the information overload, the rushing from hither to yon; the prayer room in the middle.
Informed prior to arrival of the sacred space created special for us, school girl excitement welled up within; anticipation for what the Lord had for me there. Every woman prayed over and her name placed by His. Which of Him might He delight for me to know? Oh how the heart longs to be spoken to.
Shoes removed upon entrance; hallowed ground. Lights dimmed, overstuffed chairs, pillows scattered, candles burning, tissue boxes aplenty, delicate worship music sweetly drapes the air; the bread and the wine. Two tables with His names, 19 of them, with each woman’s name taped around who He is; how He wants her to know Him. Quick scanning each one to find the familiar double k. Nothing. Slow down; read each one slower. He wants to be known. Is He the One who sees me? Is He my Strong Tower? My Provider?
A second round; nothing.
The mind starts to skitter around and the heart’s hopes begin to sink, they couldn’t have forgotten me. Could they? Should I ask someone? But…must I ask… to be remembered? Forgotten. Disregarded. The anticipation was for this; this right here, that God would have a name for me. Surely He wouldn’t let my name slip by…
A third time names scanned, s.l.o.w.l.y.; special attention to other words on the tables:
A deep breath in…slowly let out. Heart sinking. Forgotten. Lost in the crowd of so many others remembered.
One more time. It’s here. It has to be here. Slowly, praying desperately through 17 of the 19 and there…tucked in, but not hidden; overlooked by haste:
The Lord Who Heals
God has provided the final cure for spiritual, physical and emotional sickness in Jesus Christ.
Tears from deep guttural places well up. Not forgotten. Thank you Jesus, that I’m not forgotten
He speaks more than His name. This, in a prayer room tucked into the middle of the chaos, forced to slow down to see Him, is where healing begins.