she speaks, He moves, he serves

This was a truly incredible weekend.  I traveled to Concord, NC, with Debbie and Ruth, two of my Olathe Bible Church cohorts, to the "She Speaks" conference with no expectations and a sore neck.  I came home with loads of information and tools to use in our Women's Ministry from the breakout sessions.  I came home refreshed by Cheri Keaggy's worship times.  I came home with the utterly unexpected gift of a prayer partner who lives in North Carolina. I came home completely broken and at the same time renewed and encouraged and challenged by the God-messages given by the keynote speakers.

I also came home with lots of great memories and the knowledge that because of this shared experience, my relationship with my cohorts has been moved to a new and deeper level.  We laughed together, cried together, and prayed together.  (Laughter = Debbie telling me she should have brought her scissors so she could cut my hair - I just got a haircut! And Ruth admiring my flat toes.)

I still have so much to process.  But I am struck by the notion that the term "she speaks" means something different for each of us as women.  We are not all "speakers" in the traditional sense, although some are.  Some speak to God on our behalf.  Some speak mercy and compassion into our lives.  Some boldly speak truth to us even when it hurts.  Some speak by hugging us and wiping away our tears.  Some speak by holding us accountable.  Some speak through writing, music, art.  Some speak by teaching.  Some speak by not speaking at all, only listening.  But hasn't God given us all a way to "speak" His glory and love and realness to each other?  Do we hold back sometimes because we don't speak the same way as those we admire?  Are we willing to let God speak through us in the way HE planned all along?  Or do we resist, feeling unworthy, unwise, unmerciful, unequipped, or some other "un" label we give ourselves?  When we speak according to His will for us, He moves.

One of the most powerful takeaways for me was the challenge to remember my "first love" for Jesus.  How did I think?  How did I pray?  How did I act, in private and in public?  How starved I was for His word and teaching.  Life happens.  I grew and learned and changed.  And I drifted.  Not too far - I can still see the shoreline.  But I realize that I've been focused more on my ministry than on my God.  Time to return.  My ministry is only effective when my eyes are on Him.  Not just in the quiet space each morning with my Bible and my journal, but in all the moments of my days.

And he serves.  Who?  My husband.  I received so many encouraging and loving text messages when I was gone, the last one asking "what will you need when you get home?"  I walked into a clean house, a pantry full of groceries, and the arms of the one who hates to be separated from me but loves me enough to send me out.  He speaks - straight to my heart, a human reminder to me of the God who does the same.