Friday, December 30, 2016

Some Simple Acts at the Close of the Year

This one verse of scripture captured me this week.

One generation shall commend your works to another and shall declare your mighty acts.
 -- Psalm 145: 4

As 2016 winds down, what mighty acts of God I've witnessed can I commend to another generation?  This blog is suppose to collect the mighty acts of God in testimony and written record to pass along and inspire many to worship and praise.  This verse from Psalm 145 spoke again to me of one of my duties in life - declare the Lord's mighty acts.

This last quarter of the year, I've been reminded graciously of who I am.  I'm not a lost soul trying to secure a purpose.  I'm not an ill-equipped, uneducated vagabond.  I am a gifted, empowered minister of the good news of God with a defined destiny.  Though there are days of discouragement and frustration, the days ahead will be greater than the days passed.  

The mighty acts I'll reference here shed light on my identity and how God brought that to the fore for me these last days of 2016.

One night at work recently, I spoke with George, a co-worker.  He wished me and my family a blessed Christmas.  Earlier this year, he was gripped by some illness. I prayed for him and declared health over him standing before him in the break room months ago.  He's since returned to work with the vitality and cockiness he had prior to the illness.
That recent night he wished me a blessed holiday, I was overcome with compassion for him.  I told him to expect this coming year to be full of blessings he'll never expect because God loved him beyond anyway he could comprehend.  I didn't rehearse this utterance.  I didn't prepare myself to say something nice or sweet to a curmudgeon I worked with begrudgingly.  No, I was captured by the grace and mercy of God in the moment, and my prophetic gifting arose to declare a sample of heaven into the heart and spirit of a child of God. It was a wonderful word.

I walked out of the store and to my car for my meal break with a strong sense of fulfillment.  This is what I'm meant to do.  This is who I am.  

Wilma, who's been on medical leave for the last few months, returned this week.  She'll be here for a few more weeks until her transfer back to Florida is completed.

She moved to Alabama to care for her ailing father.  That first day back I asked her how he was doing.  She said he'd passed away in November.  I told her I was sorry.  Later that day, she approached me while I was alone in a room doing some inventory work.  She began sharing about the last few days he was alive.  

She couldn't provide direct care for him because she was recovering from knee surgery.  Her brother called her asking advice because Dad wasn't doing well.  Her response to the details he conveyed of their father's condition led her to advise calling the home care nurse to come and insert an I.V. drip.  

A week later when she could get to her father's house, she discovered the I.V. was never administered.  His organs were shutting down and death was presumed to be at hand.  

She looked at me and said, "He was strong, but not that strong."  She then began to cry and walked toward me with arms outstretched.  We embraced.  She wept and trembled for several moments.  Amidst the tears, she said she'd missed me.  I patted her on the back and said I'd missed her, too.  She then composed herself and said something about not wanting to be found this emotional.  

The next day when she arrived at work and we greeted each other, she thanked me and was glad she'd shared that because she hadn't said that to anyone else since he died.  She felt better.  I responded, "Good!"

This experience with Wilma informed me afresh who I am, what I'm meant to do, and what I carry.  What I possess impacts the environment I inhabit and the people in it.  I'm not looking to manipulate anyone or anything.  

In talking with George, I was overcome with compassion for him.   With Wilma, I initially showed empathy which opened the door for her sharing and releasing her own emotional burden.  George probably needed encouragement to believe good was at hand.  Wilma needed to lay down a load of grief.  None of this was orchestrated.  These were all the mighty acts of God who loves everyone.

These surprising acts of love and power were given to people needing what only God could do in ways only God could.  In God acting through me, I'm greatly encouraged as this year wains and the next one now approaches with increasing expectation of good at hand for everyone.  Alleluia.

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