Cocooning

I struggle with where to begin this post. If you're new to my blog, you might need to check out the post titled The Gift of Godly Gab to get some background. In a way, what I have to say here starts there. In Godly Gab I reflect on the first real call on my life to "speak" and how that has played out over the years with regards to my writing, and also my public speaking platform for Walk With Me and Play With Me.

I closed that post with the comment that although I'm relieved that my stint with public speaking is finally over (because I'm hoping and praying that it's over), I'm also open to God's re-directing word on the matter.

Seven days after writing that, I attended a national conference in St. Paul, Minnesota called Women of Faith.

The entire experience was a burning bush.

To stand in the presence of God while he speaks is humbling, holy, and healing. But also scary. Not because God himself is scary to me, but because the places I must go inside of myself to journey in the paths God asks can feel frightening.

My heart feels like tissue paper, trying to be strong in a way that is not compatible with it's design. And so ultimately, I surrender to the powerful blow of God's holiness. I know that sounds weird, but there are just no words to describe being searched out by the Spirit and being known. Fully, fully known. And then being told to trust God and "go."

At the start, I hadn't even wanted to attend the Women of Faith conference. As the weekend approached, I was feeling overscheduled, busy, stressed out by the details of life. I thought one more thing on the calendar would push me over the edge. But Rich kept encouraging me, "Cheri, even though you don't think you'll find refreshment at Women of Faith, this weekend away with your friends might be just what you need."

I figured he might be right, but I couldn't get past the memory of the Women of Faith conference I attended two years ago. I felt over-stimulated by the long string of speakers (too much to take in at once) and the crowds and crowds of people that filled the St. Paul Excel center. Refreshing? No. It was not refreshing, I kept thinking. And I had sworn then that I would never attend another.

But the reason I broke down and went this year was because someone gave me tickets as a gift. The bearer of this gift described the opportunity as my "golden ticket." She must be prophetic, because I didn't walk away from this gathering with only one little word (as described in Godly Gab) but a tidal wave of words that washed over me with each new speaker, comedian, musician that approached the stage. The waves kept coming and the tears kept falling and the message was the same. . .

"Speak, Cheri.
Trust me with everything.
Embrace all of life's experiences, even the painful ones, because when you embrace life you embrace me.
Know it is your brokeness that I need and want to use.
I have dreams for your life that will not line up with the American dream, but they are the things for which you most long: community, healing, wholeness, Spirit, love.
I have searched you, Cheri.
I have searched you, and I know you.
Speak."

My soul said, "yes," while sitting in the nose-bleed rafters of the Excel center, and I knew immediately that I needed prayer. I grabbed my bag and headed towards the elevator to look for the "prayer room." My makeup was completely cried off, my face was flushed red, I was nervous, nervous, nervous, I could barely breathe. But somehow I put one foot in front of the other and made it to the room of volunteers.

Lies were flooding my head, daring me to turn around:

"Nobody is going to know how to pray for you, because you're not even sure what you need prayer for. "

"This prayer room is for people who have more important problems. Your fear about speaking is a stupid reason to ask for help."

"These women are not going to understand you or know what to do with you. . . "

I walked through the door anyway, and filled out a form (a form????) with my specific concerns. I couldn't write anything coherent. I scribbled phrases. . .

Spiritual hedge of protection
Direction
Support
Author, Speaker

Then I handed it to the room's facilitator. She thanked me, as if the form was "it" and I could go. I managed to squeak out, "Is there someone available to pray with me now?"

She looked around the perimeter of the room, and my eyes followed hers. There were about 6 pairs of chairs set up to face each other, and none of them were empty. Prayer volunteers had all found a match and were busy with heads bowed.

At that moment, a short, petite, blonde-haired blonde woman stepped between me and the facilitator with a sense of urgency. Out of breath, she said, "I'm here to help. Pray. I'd like to volunteer." The facilitator turned to me, a bit unsure of what to do with this out- of- the -blue prayer person. "Well, I guess the two of you can find some chairs somewhere!"

I cried for five minutes before being able to eek out a word. My prayer partner just started praying. When I finally found my voice, I told her the story behind my tears, fears, my reluctance to speak. And how this weekend was so clearly pointing me to God's desire that I speak. Contrary to my worry that nobody would "get" me, she "got" me. She heard me and responded to what I was saying with knowing and understanding. It felt God-appointed that we had been matched.

We finished praying, and I asked my intercessor's name. "Heidi," she said. "I'm from Moms In Touch."

"Thank you. For praying," I said. "It's uncanny that you walked into the room at the exact moment that I needed a partner."

She smiled with tears in her eyes. "Yes! I hadn't planned on praying today, but I felt God nudging me to help. I was practically running to the prayer room because I kept hearing God say, 'Hurry, hurry, get up there now.'"

Through Heidi, God was running to meet me. He was bounding to my rescue, anxious to love and hold me up. Even as I write this post, the image of God running brings tears.

Looking back on the weekend overall, I am still stunned at the powerful way my life was touched. It wasn't just one speaker that resonated with me, but ALL FIVE SPEAKERS ministered to me in flame and fire and the holy words of God.

The whole experience was definitely a rebirth of sorts. I feel blessed. Broken. Wobbly legged. Shy. Exposed. Startled. Timid. New.

Yes, God. I will go. I will not shrink back in fear and self-doubt into the comfort of self-protection. I have heard your voice, and I will go.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me." (Psalm 23)