What If I Said...: Activate 2013, Day 2: Pointed Words

Saturday morning we met with Matt and Linda Lutz, a husband and wife ministry team in Cary, NC. They were our first stopping point on the trip, planning to pray over us, speak into us, and more or less "activate" us as we go out to activate others.
I wasn't entirely sure what one wears to an activation encounter (what? It doesn't all have to be serious and spiritual, right? I can talk about clothes, right?). I ended up wearing a loose striped tank top and super soft black linen pants. Which was really comfortable, but somehow ended up looking like pajamas. I came out of the bathroom and asked, "Do I look like I'm about to go to sleep? Do I look frumpy? Maybe if I stand like this--" and proceeded to shift all my weight to one hip, while bowing out my other leg, in order to make the pants look flowy like I've seen in the Banana Republic ads (Note: The pants are not from Banana Republic. They are from Banana Republic's country bumpkin cousin, Old Navy). Eventually I tucked the shirt in and added a belt to make myself look more finished. However, when we got to our meeting place, which was the clubhouse of the very upscale apartments Matt and Linda live in, I whipped around and hissed at the other girls, "I can't believe you let me come here in my pajamas."

I won't pretend that meeting new people isn't a little like thumb screws for me. I won't pretend I'm always successful at acting like it's not. But, thank God, people love me through it and smile at me anyway. Even when my return smiles come out more like a grimace.
Matt and Linda were gracious, kind, and engaging. And above all, they love Jesus and let Him speak through them. They spoke many sweet words over us, encouraged, edified, and loved on us. We sat at a tall bar table in a corner of the clubhouse, eating coffee cake that Linda had made for us. I happened to be sitting in front of a decorative mirror with spikes radiating out from it. Linda told me that from her seat, it looked like the spikes were coming out from behind me like a halo. And she believed it was symbolic- the spikes were sharp and she believed that my words would be piercing. Now, I know my words can be sharp. But there's a difference, between sharp and piercing, isn't there? Sharpness has its place, but sharpness can be hurtful. Sometimes I feel like I'm all angles and plains, with so little softness about me. Gentleness, patience, they're not my strong suits. I'd love to see my sharp edges soften some. If I could use the words to pierce darkness instead of flay flesh. To puncture people's misconceptions about how they see themselves versus who God sees them as... Yes. That's a better use of my words.

This meeting, along with an encouraging text message from a dear lifelong friend, helped me to overcome some of those lingering fears and "performance anxiety". I still don't know exactly why I'm here or what I'm doing. But I no longer need to know. I just need to BE. Be here. Be present. Be willing. Be myself.

We drove through Cary for a little while, Lesa and Carol oohing and ahhing the whole time, talking about city planners and zoning ordinances and how pleasant the whole town was, while Missy and I sat long-sufferingly in the backseat -me clutching my stomach with carsickness- waiting to be let out so we could eat lunch. We finally stopped at Chipotle, where I waited in line for the restroom, along with a 7 year old girl, who ended up having to tell me that it was my turn because I was so spaced out thinking about cityzoningplanningordinances.

As we left the restaurant and got on the road "for real"- after stopping at Trader Joe's and arming ourselves with ginger mints, ginger chews, ginger snaps, and devout prayers that they all would help combat the nausea I suffered from- I suddenly found myself hollering in the back seat of the car, "I don't want the trip to be over!"

"It's not," Lesa said soothingly.

"But doesn't it feel a little bit like it's over? We've waited so long for it to start, and now that it's here I don't want it to rush by."

"I've felt the same way. That was the biggest worry on my mind yesterday. I don't want it to go too fast," Lesa responded.

"Let's make that our prayer then," I said. "That time passes slowly. That every minute counts and is full of sweetness."

"Amen," Lesa said.
"Amen," we all echoed.

So far, that prayer has been answered. Yes, the past 2 days have gone quickly. But the hours have been slow. Meaningful. Memorable. We've had fun, but it's more than that. It's a bone deep joy. It's a knowing. A knowing that we're part of something bigger than ourselves. That our feet are beautiful and pointed in the right direction, because we're carrying His love within our steps.

We made it safely to Atlanta late Saturday night... But Atlanta is a whole 'nother blog, friends.

-M