Tropical Depression Lee

 

Rising up in crests of chiseled emerald

Crashing into shards of liquid glass

This stormy sea gives me a glimpse of majesty

My small view of You is fading, and fast

I stood on the shore, captivated by the beauty of the waves. Their crashing, surging, roaring majesty made me remember the greatness of my God. I spread my arms wide and faced into the wind.

“God,” I said, loudly, because no one else would hear over that thunder, “I need You, again.” The thick, exciting air filled my lungs and made me wish I could take it all in. I wanted to loose myself in the wonder of the scene, worship Jesus with utter abandon, let Him speak to me, feed me. But my heart was heavy. I felt dull, strained, and a bit overwhelmed. “God, I need You to speak to me. What are You wanting to do here? How do You even want me to pray?”

I knew this weekend would be stretching, and I knew it would be beyond me, but I do not think I realized just how much I would be thrown upon His strength to perform His work. Sure, I had been to summer camps before, but never as a speaker or leader. When May first asked me to come help, I was thrilled and honored, though as I thought and prayed about it in the weeks and months that followed, I began to feel more and more inadequate. However, I knew that since God had given me this opportunity and must want me there, He would come through somehow. Now, standing barefoot on the sand in the stormy breeze of the ocean, I wondered how.

So far, everything had gone great. Getting to spend time with the six other Ellerslie Alumni was even better than I thought it would be, and we had had a wonderful time the day before, getting prepared and organized before the kids came. Then, at last, the bus had arrived, and 50 sleepy, disheveled youth had crawled out of it and into the chairs we had set up for them on the basketball court. I was so excited.  This was going to be an amazing weekend. Memorable, if nothing else.

The first session took place earlier that morning, after breakfast and a game. We wondered how well the kids would listen, but decided to believe the best and ignore the youth leader’s warning that they only have a twenty-minute attention span. Kramer delivered the message—“The Gospel”—clearly and well; and they actually listened. I saw that as I talked with my group of eight middle school girls after the message. Sure, some of them sat there looking bored and cautious and not saying a word, but others seemed hungry to know more.

But still, by this time, I was seeing my need for help. The task of getting these young people to see who Jesus really is and what He is calling us to seemed so much bigger than I could even hope to accomplish. And that afternoon, I felt lacking in vision and direction, not to mention strength. With such a big operation on our hands, I needed a sense of what God was wanting to do, and His strength to do my part.

“God, I feel confused right now, and tired, and I need You to speak to me, and I…” I stopped for a minute, and just looked out over the waves and listened.

Be still and know that I am God.

I took a deep breath and released a faltering, relieved chuckle into the wind. “Oh yeah,” I whispered. “I think I’ll let You talk for awhile.” And as I stood there, He reminded me of how big He is, and how small I am. That I am not the one coaxing His participation in my situation, defining how He should work, moving His plan along. That this roaring ocean is only a tiny glimpse of the power in His hand.

I walked back to the retreat center with a much better perspective. That night, God defined the battle before my eyes, gave me His burden for these kids, and allowed me the privilege of standing with Him for these souls. I saw 50 teenagers walking the wide road with all their friends, their leaders following a little ways behind, shouting out suggestions about the narrow way in between encouragement for their good intentions. I saw the enemy, crouching nearby and ready to snatch away the seed being sown as soon as everyone looked the other direction. I saw his other attempted attacks: problems with the sound system, distraction for the kids, anxiety over the message. But I saw my Commander, and His face did not show fear or despair. So I imitated His stance, and walked to the back of the room during the sermon. From that position, I saw Him work. I saw Him pour His strength and His words into Paul as he poured out his heart to the kids. I saw the atmosphere change, and the kids listen. Later that evening, as I sat with my girls in the cabin discussing the message, I saw the impact that it had had on them, and I knew afresh that He is God.

The next day was even harder, and we were even more pressed beyond our ability as we tried to point these kids to Jesus. But as we relied on His strength, He proved Himself faithful. The four of us girls spent hours that afternoon in intense and prayerful discussion about the girl time we would have that evening, and He led us in knowing what to share. That evening was to be an absolutely beautiful time of testifying to His worthiness, His power, and the freedom that comes only through surrender.

Before the evening session, I went down to the beach again. This time I ran down the shoreline until I was completely alone with God and the ocean. I shouted into the wind as loudly as I dared, praising Him. I leapt into the air, I danced in the shiny wet sand, I spun around in the ecstasy of the raw power all around me.

And God came through, of course. He put words in my mouth and strength in my soul, and I saw that His power really is made perfect in our weakness. Oh God, let me never forget it.