Macarism: noun, an ascription of blessedness; a blessing
I had the most unbelievable experience Sunday.
Due to a lot of reasons, we decided to visit a different church for Easter this year. Normally, I tend to prefer smaller churches that are either independent or Baptist or Independent Baptist. The church we visited was charismatic. (I have nothing against charismatic churches; I’m just not real familiar with them.)
As most everyone that knows me knows, I suffer from horrible bouts of depression. Sunday, for whatever reason, things seemed to have just worn me down. I was tired, tired of hurting all the time, tired of trying to fight my way through the daily grind, just tired, plain and simple. Of course, on the heels of that was depression.
I can always tell when I’m in the early stages of depression because everything, and I do mean E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.N.G, aggravates me to distraction and I start nit-picking at everything and everybody.
So, as we’re driving to church, I mention that I am feeling depressed, but I’m not sure why or what is going on, I just know the symptoms I was experiencing. I didn’t really feel like going and had to fight with myself just to get up, get ready and go. Plus, the pain was really wearing me down.
We get to the church and there are at least 500 people there. Mercy! In addition, today is communion Sunday. As I’m sitting in my chair contemplating my mood, confessing my sins and thinking, I am also telling God I just want to give up. I am tired and tired of being tired. I don’t want to be depressed. I don’t want to be driving myself and my family crazy. Isn’t there any relief, anywhere?
This Sunday was also First Fruits Sunday. As everyone on our row of chairs gets up to give their offering, a gentleman sits down next to me. “Ma’am, do you need some money for your offering?” he asked. I explained that I hadn’t brought any cash but that was ok. He reaches in his wallet and pulls out some money and as he gives it to me he says, “This is for you a blessing today.” Well, I started bawling and handed it to my husband. The man then reaches into his wallet, hands me some more money, and says, “Ma’am, this is for YOUR offering, for YOUR blessing.” Well, I started blubbering like a baby. I couldn’t even say thank you or fill out the envelope.
I walk up to place my envelope in the offering basket, and another gentleman gently touches my arm and asks if he can pray for me. When I nod yes, he wraps his arms around me and starts praying. FOR ME. He prays for my health, my life and my blessing. I totally lose it again!
I go back to my chair and sit down and the service continues to the end. I stand to shake hands with the kind man that gave me the money and to tell him thank you. He reaches over to shake my hand and as our hands touch, I feel more money. “I. . .I. ..Oh, sir, you don’t have to do this,” I stammer. “Ma’am,” he said, “this one is for you, YOUR BLESSING.” Then, before I could say or do anything, he left. I couldn’t quit crying.
As I write this tears are rolling down my cheeks. He didn’t know or hear my heart’s cry this morning, but GOD DID! God did, and He met me there, in the middle of an auditorium so full of people I felt like panicking. In an auditorium so full of people, you felt lost. In an auditorium so full of people, God showed Himself to one hungry, hurting soul, ME.
I can’t even begin to describe the feeling. It was one of quiet, slow, oozing peace and warmth, and love, and gratitude.
I’m going to start a Blessings Box, this is the first thing to go in it, too.
I think I have found a new church!
Oh, it was also Selfie Sunday. I decided no one needed to see my Rudolph red nose, thankfully, for everyone’s sake, I had left my phone at home!