The Hands and Feet of Christ

If I was able to ask God for one thing in this world, it would be that every single person would be able to experience what I did this past week. I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how many church services, revivals, and gospel conferences I go to, I’ll never grow tired of it. And I pray that I don’t. I spent the last week with family and friends on the Southern Gospel Singing at Sea cruise. Out of everything that I’ve done in my life, this is going to be something that I’ll never forget. Unless you’ve experienced what it’s like when thousands believers are gathered together with the sole purpose of worshipping God, you’re not going to fully understand, but this week I felt like I got a tiny glimpse into what Heaven is going to be like. Night after night, song after song, God met me (and every other person) right where we were. With tears running down faces, the groups on the stage singing and auditoriums full of people worshipping God with their hands raised in humbleness, you could feel the Holy Spirit washing over the room. In the middle of the ocean and surrounded by so many people, it’s easy to feel small. But God made sure every single day that I knew that He saw me. That He has me in the palm of His hands. That when the weight of grief and heartache hit, He’s there to carry the burden for me. And I wish every single person knows what it feels like to feel seen and heard by the God that spoke the world into existence.

Sometimes we feel like we’ve been thrown to the wolves and we aren’t sure whether God is still right there beside us in the trials or not. I’ve been there more times than I can count. I’ve been the one with rocky health problems and uncertain diagnoses. I’ve been the one that’s had everything ripped from me overnight. I’ve been the one that watched my loved ones take their last breath and the one to hold my baby nephew while he was already in Jesus’ arms. My family has been the one to love foster babies like they’re our own only to have the system fail them. We’ve watched our family members fight cancer, with some beating it and some not. Guys, God never promised us that this walk was going to be easy. We’re going to go through the fire and it’s not going to be fun. But I can’t stress to you enough how important it is to remember that we’re not alone. Even though the memories and the reminders of what I’ve been through showed up time and time again this week, God was right there every time whispering that I was never alone in it.

There were constant reminders this week of how important it is to be the hands and feet of Christ. There was one night my cousin and I were walking around the ship after most people had gone to bed and I told her that I wished every day could be like this. Where we’re surrounded by believers and have nothing to do but worship God. No distractions, no chaos, just peace. But she reminded me that’s not what we’re called to do. Yes, fellowship and worshipping with other believers is important, but one of the reasons that we do that is to fill our cups to go pour into the lost. We’re called to go tell the world about Christ. And as much as I would love to have that environment to escape to anytime this world gets tough, we have a job to do. There were people this week witnessing to the workers, handing out gifts to people they passed in the hallways, praying for one another, checking in even today to be sure the ones that were strangers to them just a few days ago made it home safe, and singing groups that took their time to talk and listen to what the people that came to hear them were going through. That’s what it looks like to be the hands and feet of Christ. To forget about yourself for a moment. To find a way to make the ones around you feel seen and heard. To show each other that you care. Because that’s what Christ does. He reaches out to us in the times we need it most. When the lines of a song hit too close to home, tears streaming down your face and trying your best not to start gasping for breath. When test results aren’t what you hoped for, when family members are suffering, when you remember the pain you fought your way through, when the system fails yet another baby, that’s when He reaches out. That’s when He gives us that peace that passes understanding. The comfort that comes in the hardest of times when we know that God is the only reason we’re able to sing praises at that moment.

However, the most important thing that I was reminded of this week is the extent that Christ went through for a wretched sinner like me. I was raised in church my whole life and saved the day before my 7^th birthday, so I honestly don’t remember a time when I didn’t believe. Have I doubted? I wish I could say no, but I can’t. Have I failed Him? I couldn’t make a list of the amount of times if I tried. But no matter where I’m at and what I’ve done, He loves me all the same. The old me was nailed to that cross and Christ overcame all of that for you and for me. He came to bridge that gap that was so far out of our reach that we couldn't make it if we tried. Because no matter how strong our faith is and how hard we try to get it right, we're all still sinners that fall short of the glory of God. But God. Those two words just turn the whole story around. We don’t deserve it and there was nothing we could do to earn it, but oh how thankful I am for the blood of Christ that covered my sins and washed me clean.