The God Who Sees

The God Who Sees

Last night at youth group, I had an amazing small group of high school girls who changed before my eyes over the course of an hour.  As they leaned in, their walls began to slowly lower.  Texts from two of them later revealed how deeply they needed to be seen, heard and loved.  There is so much more to unpackage, process, and be open to around this.  Their messages were heartbreaking and illuminated their brokenness, reminding me of my own recent brokenness.  I am in awe of God as I share how the last 24 hours have unfolded.

This morning, I spontaneously decided to take the day off to be with my kids.  Peace was in my heart as I showered and contemplated how we can meet people where they are.  I thought about the high school girls last night.  Praising, worshipping, and praying in my bathroom, I thought about all the people who walk around us every day.  There are so many people and so many needs.  We can't possibly see them all and pursue them all.  But what if we can help people find us?  What if the people who need prayer can know we are here to pray over them and love them as they go through their trials?  The Holy Spirit got me excited about wearing a shirt that says, "How can I pray for you?"  My hands were literally trembling with energy as I prayed about this and continued preparing for the day.  Never have I trembled with that kind of spiritual energy.  I had an image of someone walking up to me in the grocery store to tell me their story, and praying together at that moment - two people meeting God together, tears and all - pure joy and pain all in one place.

An hour later, we were late getting out the door for the Texas State Fair and were meeting friends.  Stepping out of my house to the van, I saw a work van blocking my driveway.  Here is the exchange I had with the driver.

Audri: "Oh, I need to get out."  

Driver: "I'll be done in 15 minutes."  

Audri: "If you'll let me out, you're welcome to park in my driveway."  

He began walking around to the driver's side of his van.

Audri: "How are you today?" 

Driver: "I'm doing okay, how are you?"     

Audri: "If I got any better, I don't know if I could contain it!"

Driver: "Wow, that's really great."

It wasn't an energetic "wow," but rather one of curiosity.  Hearing this in his voice, the Holy Spirit urged me toward him.

Audri: "Can I pray for you?"

Driver: "Yes, of course."

I placed my hand on his shoulder and began to pray for unspecified needs for this man.  While I didn't know his needs, God already knew and was sensitive to the condition of his heart.  When we finished praying, he looked at me from behind orange mirrored sunglasses and I could see a tear coming down from the bottom of the right side of his glasses.  

Audri: "I see you.  What's going on?"

Driver: "There's just a lot of stuff going on in my life."

Audri: "What is your name?"

Driver: "Alberto"

Audri: "Alberto, look, a week ago, I was completely empty.  I was suicidal and had completely burned myself out.  My community, the people who love me, they met me in that place and they lifted me up to God when I didn't have the strength to do it myself.  Alberto, I don't know where you are.  I don't know what you're struggling with, but I know you can't do it alone and you need God.  And to get close to God, if you don't have the strength to do it right now, the people you surround yourself with will do it for you.  You need community."

He began to cry.

Alberto: "I really needed to hear that.  Everything that you said, I was right there two months ago.  I really needed to hear this.  Thank you so much.  Can I have a hug?"

Audri: "Absolutely!"

Hugging there at the end of my driveway, two complete strangers experienced a bit of healing and a lot of the presence of God.  

Audri: "See this house?  This is my house.  Now you know where I live.  If you ever need a hug or a prayer, come find me."

This beautiful interaction with a man named Alberto at the end of my driveway, on a bright sunny day, was no random encounter.  God knew we both would be there.  The emptiness I'd felt over the last week had made space for me to be filled by God.  I'd spent the morning praising Him and listening for the urging of the Holy Spirit and my heart had already been prepared for that moment.  God had already prepared Alberto to receive that moment.

None of the events of the last week are a surprise to God.  And I won't live in shame or hide the fact that struggled to that degree of hopelessness.  2 Corinthians 1:3-4 encourages me that God never wastes a single hurt.  We are not perfected in order to serve.  It is through our brokenness that God prepares us to serve others.  "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."  I praise God for the comfort he has brought me through others who were unwilling to watch me suffer, and who lifted me to the presence of God when I couldn't get myself there.  Lord, don't ever let me forget my brokenness.  Amen!

You Raised Me Up

You Raised Me Up 

At 3:27 p.m., I got a text from a dear friend, "Hey Audri.  We missed you last night, but I sure hope you are feeling much better!"  He was checking in on me, knowing I had been sick with Covid for a few days.  At 4:17 p.m., I texted him, "I am physically, but please pray for me.  I feel emotionally depleted and can't stop crying."  

At 5:45 p.m., when he hadn't responded, I was gripped with guilt.  I suddenly wished I could stuff those words back into my heart.  My transparent vulnerability had laid my burden squarely on the shoulders of someone I cared about.  I immediately texted him, "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have put that on you.  I'm okay."  I lied.  All I could think was that he, too, couldn't let me be weak and was also willing to just let me go unseen.  Maybe like everyone else, he was assuming my strength.  I'm supposed to be the one others lean on, not the other way around.  He's also a leader in our church.  I'd said too much.  Now I would never be trusted to lead or minister to others.  I sank. 

At 6:39 p.m., he finally replied.  "No, Audri don't feel sorry at all!  I appreciate you sharing that with me so I can pray for you.  Is there anything else I can do for you to help with these feelings?"

Immediately, I replied, "I don't know, aside from prayer.  I appreciate your heart though."  I was already convinced that he was really too busy and was responding out of obligation, not because he actually cared.  My mind had already convinced me that no one really did.  Now I was just trying to push him away.  (I couldn't live in grace in those moments - couldn't recognize that his delayed response was nothing more than him living life, and serving others.  He was busy loving other people.  My broken heart couldn't see clearly.)

At 7:26 p.m., I left my house with no destination in mind.  I just needed to get away.  The walls felt like they were closing in on me.  Despite four other people being in the house, I felt completely unseen, and I had been withdrawing over the previous three weeks.  My noise-canceling earbuds lived in my ears.  They filled my mind with music that reinforced a growing sense of hopelessness.  At the time, I couldn't fully articulate why I was collapsing.  I kept losing myself and creating growing distance between me and my husband, me and my kids, me and everyone who loves me.  Every hurt, every sense of abandonment, every foothold of darkness and self-doubt seemed to land on me simultaneously.  My mind began to convince me that nothing would change.  I would continue to be invisible to those who were supposed to see me and care enough to do something about it.  My spiral wasn't their fault.  I wanted to disappear.  My mind began conjuring all the ways I could make that happen.  How could I die with the least impact on others?  Storm clouds formed in my mind, and within two blocks of my house, I could hardly drive through growing sobs of despair.  In hindsight, I came to realize that I was under spiritual attack.

At 7:27 p.m., as I pulled up to a stop sign, my friend finally replied.  "Of course, Audri.  I would love to get a coffee with you sometime and just catch up on how you've been post-Germany."  Over the summer, we had served together on a missions trip to Germany that had radically changed me.

At 7:46 p.m., I replied, "Germany was amazing.  God has worked on my heart so much since then.  I've never prayed so fervently in my life as then and now.  So much has changed inside me.  In a way, I feel like I woke up.  I feel like God is doing something in me.  And I'm fighting a spiritual battle.  I'm praying, singing, writing, and leaning into God more than I ever have, but...I can't eat.  I'm not sleeping.  I've lost weight.  I got Covid.  My marriage is under attack.  And I can't tell you how desperate I feel right now."  

No reply.

At 7:48 p.m., my husband called.  "Where do you go.  You sound melancholy."  I lied.  "I just needed to get out and take a walk, and I'm going to the store.  Text me what you need."  It was everything I could do to hold in tears to get him off the phone.

At 7:55 p.m., I was convinced that I didn't really matter.  I texted my friend a final, "I'm so sorry."  By then, I was sitting in a random parking lot with a death grip on my steering wheel.  I really wanted to go where no one would ever find me, and all I could do was sob.  I was done and was trying to formulate a plan to take my life.  Even then, it was tearing my heart apart.  I work with those whose loved ones have died by suicide.  The thought of the trail of destruction I would leave behind only made me cry harder, only made me more despairing.  Within less than a minute, my phone rang.  

"Audri, what's going on?"  

"Zach, I can't breathe!"

This is where it started.  We spoke for 15 minutes, during all of which I sobbed.  I poured my heart out, but I honestly can only remember feeling like my heart and mind were imploding.  He listened and encouraged.  Then I said it.  I wanted to die.  I don't think he hesitated.  He knew I wasn't safe.  

"Audri, where are you?  Drop me a pin.  I'm on my way."  

I dropped him the pin and waited, sobbing uncontrollably and holding on.  

At 8:36 p.m., Zach pulled into the parking spot next to me.  He brought reinforcements - God and two other friends from church, Wes and Caitlin.

I melted out of my van and into the arms of my friends.  All I could think to say was, "You came for me."  Even now, I'm overwhelmed nearly to the point of tears, recalling the sense of relief and love I felt.

"Of course, we came."

They poured into me.  They all hugged me and held on until I could let go.  At one point, I doubled over with tears, shame, guilt, and the weight of everything falling on me.  As pain poured out of my heart, my words struck a chord of fear.  Serving with these people in our church was where God had placed me, and all I could think was, "Now they will know I'm not fit to serve."  The darkness in me had me convinced that I'd said too much.  With penetrating eyes that spoke to me of their own conviction, they told me that all these things were a lie.  They saw me.  They heard me.  They held me.  As I fought my own mind, they fought with me.  They.  Fought.  For.  Me.

For an hour, God surrounded us in that parking lot.  We talked.  We listened.  We prayed.  Believe it or not, we ultimately laughed.  In the end, I told them, "I need to pray."  They had already prayed over me.  Now, it was my turn.  I don't recall my prayer, but I recall the peace that poured out of me by then.  The tears had flowed away.  I could stand.  I could breathe.  I could hope.  I could pray.  And God met me there in that parking lot, with three people who love me deeply.

Now I sit here listening to "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up to more than I can be

Zach, Wes, and Caitlin raised me up.  When I couldn't breathe.  When I couldn't pray.  When I couldn't see God.  They saw Him for me.  They held me up until I could feel His presence again.  I will never be the same again because of what God brought me through.  They continue to pray for me.  And we continue to serve God together.

Wes reminded me five days later that God can use me more because I emptied myself out that night - and that God then filled me up.  

I can't adequately express the importance of being in community, surrounding yourself with people who love God, and allowing yourself to be vulnerable and seen.  I sang "You Raise Me Up" in a karaoke bar 14 years ago because it was a beautiful song.  Now I will sing it because of these three friends whose love lifted me to God when I needed it most.  I love them more than I could ever show.

Fast forward...

At the time of this spiritual attack, I was working my way through a Certified Biblical Counseling course.  It felt that the closer I came to being finished, the harder life became.  The day I submitted my final paper to become certified, the storm cloud lifted.  It was literally as if a switch flipped in my brain.  Joy returned to my heart.  I could breathe.  I began to look back and almost felt silly that I was so overwhelmed.  There was simply no reason for me to have been experiencing that level of desperation.  It was unprecedented in my life.  God is so good.  He has restored me.  Personally understanding the nature of spiritual attacks has been something I have leaned on that has strengthened how God has used me in counseling ministry since this time.  I continue to be in awe of what he's done and is doing in my life.  What a mighty and faithful God we serve.  

Seeing and Being Seen

People feel invisible. 

Sometimes I am that person. 

I want to be seen and to see.  Both require something of me - to open my aperture.  It starts with my own choices.

Our perspective can be painfully microscopic, and we lose (or fail to develop) a sensitivity to those around us.  We get busy moving through the world, focused on ourselves, and often miss truly seeing people.  The truth is we frequently don't even see ourselves in the sea of expectations. While we can’t know everyone and the burdens they carry, we can have a heart that is open to seeing people how God sees them, and ask God to put people in our path whom we can acknowledge and encourage.  We can try to see the person God sees - both their brokenness and their potential. 

In those moments, both big and small, who we are called to be is not a mystery.  Jesus calls us to love others. God loves them.  He has always loved them, even the Sauls and the Matthews of the world, those who have persecuted others and taken advantage of people.  We are called to love them and we frequently forget that God loves us too, even through our sins. One way to love others is to see their struggles and their needs.  I don’t want to be invisible, so I will start by ensuring those around me know that I see them.  But how do I “see” them?

The chorus of the song “Give Me Your Eyes” by Brandon Heath, says:

Give me Your eyes for just one second

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missin'

Give me Your love for humanity

Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten

Give me Your eyes so I can see  

God “sees” us.  Psalms 121:7-8 says, “The Lord will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”   

We can start by asking God to make us sensitive and compassionate toward others around us.  Our prayer can be that God would slow us down so that we don’t miss opportunities to see others, and that when we do see them, God would show us how to love them better in a million different ways through our words and actions.  Is it a kind word?  Maybe a hug?  Perhaps a moment of prayer?  May we never be too busy for the Holy Spirit to speak to us and urge us toward another person, and for our response to be one of obedience and compassion.  Our ever-present prayer can be “give me your eyes, God.”   

Baseball Gloves and Jesus

I was getting ready for bed after a day at baseball camp during our mission trip to Germany.  As I contemplated the devotional I would give the following morning, an image of a baseball glove, with a baseball nestled snugly in the pocket, came into my mental view.  The Holy Spirit spoke to my heart, “You are hidden in Christ.”

This led me to Colossians 3:1-4

“Since then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”

What does it mean to be hidden in Christ?

This means that our identity and security are in Christ.  We don’t depend on the world to give us our identity.  But the world tries to tell us we can find our identity in other things, such as relationships, grades, achievements, and sports. Everyone is vulnerable to this, particularly children. Every day, we are bombarded with distorted messages about what is important in life.  

While we are hidden in Christ, our faith cannot be hidden.  We have to find entry points to share Christ with others.

Matthew 5:15-16 says, “Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

We are shining a bright light into the lives of others to draw them to Christ.

But Paul says to set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  It is easy to become distracted by life - by the game.  This is true for us all.

How do we avoid becoming distracted? We do this by remaining connected to Christ.  In John 15:5, Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

Remaining in him through this intentional time of devotion and prayer keeps us hidden in Him - focused and securely attached to the vine - much like the ball is securely held in the glove.   

We put him first - grounding our day in Christ.  I pray that this dedicated time of devotion will be something each of us continues well beyond our time together here.  This is the example we are setting for one another and staying hidden in Christ in this way will yield fruit as we keep the “first thing first.”  There is a song by that title, whose lyrics illustrate this beautifully:

        I don't wanna love what the world loves

        I don't wanna chase what the world does

        I only want you

        I only want you

        First thing's first

        I seek Your will

        Not my own

        Surrender all my wants to you

        Keep the first thing first

        To live Your truth

        Walk Your ways

        Set my eyes

        Lord I fix my face on you

        All my desires reversed

        To keep the first thing first

In John 15 goes on to say, “This is my command, that you love one another.”  We will love one another and all those we meet by…

1. Staying hidden in Christ - keeping our identity in Him.

2. Staying connected to the vine - keeping distractions away.

3. Keeping the first things first in our personal prayer life.

4. Letting the light and joy of God shine through us.

1 John 4:19 says, "We love because he first loved us." If we remain in him, we will then pour from a full cup. We will love others well with the love he has given us, and everyone is lifted up to Christ.