Grace and Tires

This story happened awhile ago, maybe back in August. I felt and I've been feeling for awhile now that it's a story I should share. Let me begin by saying that as much as we'd all like to stay on top of the mountain, God allows us to be brought down to be tested. Sometimes we pass the test and in turn become stronger in our walks and closer to God. Sometimes, however, we fail. This is a story of failure.

Do you know the long-term sin that you struggle with? The one that has caused you to find yourself asking for forgiveness over and over and over again until you are sickened by your own struggle? Well, I had a sin like this. It had a control over me for most of my life. However, God did not abandon me in this sin. He constantly called me to repentence and confession. The repentence part was easy. The confession part was not. And so, it took years before I stopped allowing fear to keep me from freedom. But I did. I confessed my secret sin. And not just to God. I confessed in front of a group of 20 people in my Bible study. Talk about all-in. Then the most amazing thing happened. The control and the desire left. Oh, it reared it's ugly head a few times after, but each time it was longer and longer stretches in between until it was no longer a part of my life.

And so began this hill-like climb towards Christ. You know how every now and then you find yourself between hills? Not necessarily in a valley (I find that I am closest to God at the extremes), but at a neutral midpoint. A place of no great challenges and likewise no great epiphanies. This is where I find the enemy lurking...when my defenses are down because I'm either tired from struggling through a valley or else underwhelmed after descending from a peak.

I found myself last August or so in such a place. And, to my great horror I fell back into the sin I'd long since left behind. This is a bitter moment...when you find you are not as strong as you thought you were. Immediately, two old friends I hadn't seen in quite awhile came rushing into my life: guilt and shame. And they were holding nothing back this time. I found myself in a pit of depression and self-loathing. A prayer in my journal during that time reads, "God, how can I get up and worship in front of others? I don't want to be sorry, I want to be repentent. Don't let me be excluded from You because of my sin. Forgive me. Have mercy on me."

I knew in my mind that God would forgive me. I wrestled with trying to receive His forgiveness and grace. But all the while I lived under the impression that I would have to start over again at the bottom. I'd have to work for years before I would ever be as close to God again, I thought. Maybe this would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Maybe I'd be excluded from my destiny for failing so miserably.

Everytime I went to God in prayer I could hear nothing from Him except confess. I reasoned with Him that I couldn't confess because other people would no longer trust me or listen to me. I weakly offered to confess to Him. For about 3 weeks I lived in this hell. Serving in church and pretending that I was doing just fine. Finally, I decided it would be too hard to confess. Besides, I'd had a couple of repentent cry-fests. I thought that I had better get a start on working to get back into God's good graces. The day that I made this decision, I got a text from my good friend Justine. Is everything ok? I can't get you off of my heart. I looked at the phone and felt like I was going to throw up. God told on me! He sold me out! I knew that I would have to tell her. The pretense was too hard. I knew it couldn't last long enough...she knew me too well.

I finished teaching, and the minute school got out I got in my car to drive to Havasu. I had some things to buy, and some confessing and soul searching to do, and I didn't want to be around my family. As soon as I got on the road, Justine called. I pulled the car over, and between sobs I confessed everything. I wish I could say I felt better, but in truth it felt awful to reveal my sinfulness. I waited for Godly words of wisdom from her. She confessed that she had been there before with her own sin struggle (though I knew it had been a long time) and she admitted that she didn't really know what to say.

I got back on the road as we hemmed and hawed and tried to talk through it. The signal cut out, and secretly I was thankful for the reprieve. I bawled all the way up to Havasu feeling about as low as a person can. Wasn't I supposed to feel better? Wasn't confessin what God had asked me to do? I waited for the refief from my guilt and shame, but it didn't come.

I made it through the city and was almost to the mall when I heard and felt my front tire blow. You must be joking, I thought. My car limped into the driveway of a car dealership. I got out and assessed the damage. I knew I had a spare tire, but I had no idea how to get it out from under my car. I knew how to change a tire...in theory. I hoped that if I only got it started, some man would see my plight and come to the rescue.

I had a phone held to my face by my shoulder with my sister on the line (tire-changing expert), the instruction manual out, and some tool that was supposed to help me get the tire out. Only,  couldn't seem to locate the dang hole to put the tool in. Seriously God? As if I wasn't suffering enough? I managed to find the hole under the floor mat beneathe a rubber stopper. Clearly engineering genius at work. I cranked the tire out only to find that I couldn't seem to detach it from the cable. I wrestled with this heavy tire (in my dress clothes, I might add). It was over 100 degrees in Lake Havasu in the summer. My hair was becoming matted to my face from the sweat. The more I wrestled, the dirtier I got. The dirtier I got, the angrier I got. Meanwhile, cars are zipping past me, not a single good samaritan among them.

Somehow, I finally figured out that you have to turn the cable sideways to slip it through the hole. Now I had the work of trying to put the jack in to lift up the car. More wrestling. More dirt and grime. Angrier still. I was still determined to beat that stupid flat tire. I got the jack in place and pumped the jack until the car was up. Now came the hard part (as if everything up to that point was simple). I had to figure out a way to lift this 80 pound tire up onto the axel. (Note: I have no idea how much tires actually weight. It definitely felt like 80 lbs of dead weight). I can't tell you how long I struggled and how dirty I got, with no success. Finally with angry tears, I cried out, "God, I need You help!"

Not a minute later a man who was leaving the dealership pulled up alongside me. He smiled knowingly. "Need some help?" he asked me. "Yes, please!" came my desperate reply. The gentleman was about 40 years old. He climbed out of his car and took the tire from me. "Let me take this," he said. "I'll handle all of this. Get up and go inside and wash yourself off." Grateful, I walked inside the dealership looking very disheveled. I came back out after cleaning up. "Is there some way I can help?" I asked. He smiled and said, "Just talk with me while I work."

This man then proceeded to tell me his testimony. He began to tell me about how his marriage was on the rocks and his relationship with his kids was bad, when a friend of his told him about Christ. He began to go to church, and eventually saw God redeem the broken pieces of his life. "I am a better father than I ever was, and now my wife and I are more in love than ever," he beamed.

He then began to share the Gospel with me, and I waited patiently, smiling to myself. In the end, I told him that I was a Christian. This did not convince or deter him. Then he began to talk to me about holy living and a life of total abandonment to Christ. I thanked him profusely for everything and he was on his way. Thankfully, so was I.

I called Justine back and told her the whole story. "Isn't that funny?" I marveled. "Amy," she said knowingly, "Don't you see what God is trying to tell you?" I paused, baffled. "What?" I asked incredulously. "Amy, you had a blowout. And you tried to fix it by yourself, but the more you tried, the dirtier you got, and the angrier you got. But when you finally gave up and asked for God's help, He immediately came to your rescue. And the first thing that He said to you was, 'Let me take this. I'll handle all of this. Get up and wash yourself off.' Then, when you asked him what you could do to help, he said, 'just talk with me while I work.'"

I couldn't even reply because I was overcome with the feeling of God's grace. All my guilt and shame melted away and I just felt loved. Not because of my efforts. Just because of who He is, and who He says I am. I understand what God's grace looks like. It looks like giving up and letting yourself be rescued.

God is the author of the coolest stories

It's been awhile since my last update, but I just had to share this story. Last time we went to the jail we asked for the women first as always. We knew God was up to something when we got the men first, as that has never happened. Rick and a former inmate Victor witnessed to the Spanish inmates, and my mom and I took the remaning 6. Fran had been the week prior and asked me to share a Bible verse from Galatians with this guy named Byron. She was worried about him. 2 minutes in, and this guy piped up and said, "I was talking last week to this lady named Fran. She asked me if I wanted to accept Jesus and I told her I wasn't ready. Well, I've been reading the Bible and praying, and I'm ready now." Already off to a great start. You know it's gonna' be a good day when someone opens with that. So I asked him a bunch of questions and explained the gospel to make sure that he undrstood the decision he was making. He didn't want to be baptized in the jail at first because he was holding out for the river. But as soon as I told him that he could be baptized twice he was on board.
After the men left, we had the women. My mom and I had 3 women: 2 who come all the time and know Jesus already, and one who they dragged there named Michel (pronounced Mi-kel) who didn't know where she stood with God. She is a PK so she knows the basics, but didn't feel she "qualified" for heaven. I decided to share my testimony, which I haven't done in awhile. The Holy Spirit hit them all at the same time, and at a point in my story where I wasn't expectng tears. It was at a point that was hopeful. It seemed the idea of hoping was what rally stirred them. All at once all three of them were crying. The PK began to get really emotional as she began to explain that she felt she wanted to accept Christ and that she was ready, but was afraid. She explained that her husband was not a Christian and he was addicted to drugs. "I'm so afraid that if I become a Christian, he won't. I just know that he'll leave me," she explained. It was heart-wrenching. I could literally feel this woman's agony. She admitted that it was a lousy excuse, but that the fear was too great. I could tell by the way the other women reacted that this was a deep-rooted and long discussed topic. "He's even in jail right now. We got arrested together," she sobbed. I reached over and took her hand. I asked her what her husband's name was, thinking that I should begin to pray for him. "Byron," she replied. Instantly, my eyes filled with tears. I reached out and touched her hand and said, "Your husband just accepted Christ 30 minutes ago." This woman began to wail so loudly that Pastor Rick turned around and said, "Look, we're having trouble hearing each other talk over here." All of us were crying at this point. I asked her if there was anything that would keep her from accepting Christ, and she laughed through her tears and said, "I guess not!" I led her through the sinner's prayer as she echoed in barely a whisper, her emotions choking out her voice.

A few minutes later it was time to leave. Before we left, she asked us if we knew where in the Bible she could find that verse about enlarging your territory. None of us could locate it, though we searched through our extensive concordances. Her brand new Bible in hand, she opened her Bible at random, and landed on the exact page with the verse she was looking for. I looked at her and smiled. "Do you think God is trying to get your attention?"
It was such a fun Holy Spirit appointment, that obviously wouldn't have been possible had we not seen the men first. Michel was transferred less than a week later, before we had a chance to see her again.

Byron on the other hand, is still there every week, with Bible in hand, thirsty for more.