He Chose Me

One of the prayer rooms at our church is absolutely beautiful. The sounds of soft music and running water fill the room and block out sounds from the hall. Tapestries and plants hang from the walls. There are stations around the room that serve as physical reminders of what God is. A large wooden cross lies in one corner with paper, a pen, a hammer, and nails. People can write their worries on a paper and nail them to the cross!

I went into this prayer room once or twice last summer during Vacation Bible School. I didn't stay too long. I didn't want to take up time that someone else might want or need in the room.

A month or two ago, my friend C spent an hour in the prayer room before church began. I remember wanting to spend time in the room alone with God too, but I knew that I wouldn't actually go in there. I didn't need a prayer room. I could meet God anywhere. In my mind, that room was made for other people, not for me. I passed the prayer room off as a beautiful, inspiring place for others to use.

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Last week, I really had a hard time sitting through my Step Study meeting. I had so much that I needed to say, but I couldn't form the words. I could see my answers on my paper, but I couldn't read them aloud. I needed them to come out. I needed someone to hear my words, but I didn't feel safe.

After the meeting, my dear friend C could tell that something wasn't right. She asked if I was okay and I told her that I wasn't. She asked if she could give me a hug. I said that I would start crying if she did, and I didn't want to do that. So, she took me to the prayer room.

For the first time, I sat down in the prayer room and took in its beauty. I told C my secrets and she prayed over me. I told her that I never used the prayer room because I felt unworthy to use it. She told me that the room was made for ME. Jesus died for ME.

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Friday night at CR, our Senior Pastor gave his testimony and then preached. The title of the sermon could have been, "I Choose You." He spoke of how Jesus made great efforts to show Peter and Mary Magdeline that He chose them. He loved them and He met them where they were.

I walked away with this: God loves ME. He chooses ME.

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Church this morning was beautiful.

We placed white table cloths on all of the communion tables. I draped the altar with the white crochet table cloth my grandmother gave me as a wedding present. Thirty Easter lilies perfumed the air and white candles softly lit the room. Yardboy played the drums with the worship band. They played my absolute favorite song, Agnus Dei. My parents, brother, and grandmother drove over an hour to be with us on Easter. Perfect.

The time came for communion and I stood up to head toward the nearest table. I tripped on the way out of my row, but recovered quickly. I wanted to go to the altar at the front of the room. It was the prettiest and the scent of the lilies was intoxicating near it. However, Yardboy lead me in another direction.

I knelt beside my husband, pinched a piece of bread off of the loaf, and dipped it into the juice. I prayed, "Thank you, Lord, for giving your body and blood for me," just as I have been doing all these years. This time, I placed the bread and juice on my tongue and my eyes welled up. "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for giving your body and blood for ME!" Communion was never real for me before. It was just something I did to be obedient. Today I experienced communion. I finally got it!

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After church today I sent my parents, brother, and grandmother to my house to start making Easter dinner. I had about 20 minutes of work to do before I could leave church.

We were almost finished cleaning up and most people had left the building when I looked up and saw my friend C. She and her daughter (who is the same age as Little Man) were standing at the back of the church. This sweet little girl saw me and ran to me, squealing with delight all the way. I picked her up and she gave me a big hug.

I love children, but I am not a very child-oriented person. They aren't drawn to me like they are to some people. I can't remember a child (other than one of my own) ever running to me like that. I think that is what made it so special. She love me. She chose ME! This precious, innocent, little girl chose ME, just like God did.