God Moments || Eight Days of Hope

Look for God moments. 

And I don’t know where to start or what to write, because God moments are piled up around me, and I’m overwhelmed. 

So here goes: a little journal entry in my life where I followed God’s lead to step out, do something scary, and now I cry because it’s over and I miss it. 

 

Last week, I had the honor of serving with a team who loves Jesus to support the people of Louisiana. 

I was scared. Really scared. But God lined everything up—my job and schedule and ride—and I found myself at the doors of a Louisiana church with a banner on the front: Eight Days of Hope. 

The scent of the gulf, wind in my hair, and humidity that stuck to my arms. Savage mosquitos, mounting heat. We drove to Lake Charles, and their world had been devastated. 

Almost every roof was tattered, patched. Telephone wires hung limp and crunched under our vehicles. Trees pierced through homes. And people hurt. They shared stories. 

They talked of huddling in their homes as the hurricane tore all around them. Others returned from evacuation to find their houses soaked through, musty mold growing in every corner, and they have no options. A single woman with a tree limb stabbing through her kitchen roof, and her backyard is a tornado of branches, shingles, destruction. 

Scared. Alone. Hopeless. 

But I looked for God stories. And they piled around me as I raked the yard, revealing tiny sprigs of grass that yearned for sunshine. 

Jesus was in Louisiana. He was in the hugs we offered to homeowners, the prayers, the way neighbors saw us working and asked if we could help with their homes too. 

He was in the times of worship, guitar strums, as we shut our eyes and praised.

He was in the dirt that stuck to our sweat as we worked hard and loved harder. 

In traffic and tiredness, late-afternoon showers and clean clothes. In people offering to wash our laundry, in checking temperatures, and wearing masks. In felling trees and dragging branches and hearing a person’s story for the first time. In prayers He answered when I whispered fears, concerns, confusions to Him. And those prayers of praise and adoration, us rejoicing.

We worked and laughed and learned. And the people of Eight Days of Hope became a family as the Church united to serve hurting people for free just because we love Jesus.

It wasn't just individuals being nice. It was people loving Jesus and reaching out to be His hands. That's not just in mission trips or church services. It's in your neighborhood, your home, your room, your phone. 

I go home and miss people. I scribble notes in my journal, remember, look at pictures. I remember the beauty - in beachy air and sea birds flying, in houses with roofs tarped like quilted blankets, in pulling up a seat with a smile and, "I'm Hosanna, it's so nice to meet you," hearing their stories.

I find God stories.

They’re everywhere: in serving, at home, abroad, God working and using us when we surrender, rest, follow His leading. He answers prayer.

Friend, look for those God stories. Step out even if it scares you. Be part of the Church, rising up to love recklessly and serve unreserved.

Live today with the prayer of "live in me, Jesus." Surrendered, letting Him live instead of ourselves.

Maybe it's traveling across states or walking across the room. Maybe it's loving someone by wearing a mask or snuggling in a hug or praying right where they are.

But when we let go of ourselves and let Him live, it’s amazing.

Look for God moments, friend.

Only let your conduct be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of your affairs, that you stand fast in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel. 

- Philippians 1:27

~♥~