Abraham was blessed to be a blessing. As Jesus followers, we do have an explanation that we love because Christ first loved us. These ideas seem so obviously connected, and it’s still so wild when we encounter the kind of blessing and love that knows know bounds that God set up for us in the Bible. I believe this stuff. I’ve lived too much of it to not know it’s still for today.
In the midst of navigating grace for myself for less consistent blog posts in this season of searching for a new home, I’ve also been repeatedly blessed by the love of my church whānau that has come around me to pray for me, encourage me, and just love me. Last week was day after day of people just blowing my socks off with ways they were committed to my holistic wellbeing and long term ability to live and flourish in ministry. From a couple sitting me down to tell me they wanted to take the lead on pursing a creative solution for my long term housing to a friend bringing over a block of chocolate just to catch up to another friend picking me up on a beautiful sunny day to spend the afternoon at a cafe on the beach. I can’t forget the others who loaded my wheelchair into their cars without considering me a burden so they could drive me home from life group or the cafe where I was trapped in the rain or gelato outings after youth group. Or drove me through a literal thunder, lightning, and hail storm to celebrate American Thanksgiving in a beautiful Kiwi fashion.
I still don’t know where I’m going to live after Christmas – though my landlord did give me an extra 12 days margin so I can postpone the move until early January if I don’t find a place sooner.
My life is wild. It’s exciting and beautiful, and as much as I get exhausted by some of the heightened chaos and limits of my disability, I still have no regrets on the choices that have led me here. In obedience to Jesus, I left my home like Abraham. I didn’t have any promise of greatness, but I’ve received far more than I imagined possible. Sure I broke my back and have had a few heartbreaking losses along the way, but I also have my precious alumni Sarah call me up and text me regularly her thoughts on intersectionality in disability and theology as well as promise to debrief after our respective viewings of Wicked. I have the friend who brings her entire keyboard over to my house so she can share worship songs she’s written as we praise God together before she lays hands on me to pray for my healing. I have so much more than I could have asked or imagined. And I’m still asking for a lot.
I still need an army of prayer warriors contending for my long term living situation – potentially for a mid term solution if the long term idea presented is possible down the road. I am still persistently petitioning God for that full miraculous healing as well. I won’t give up (Luke 18:1). I’m so, so loved, and I’m grateful for the chance to keep receiving this love in order to love others well. It’s a messy job, but I’m doing my best, and by the grace of God, I can keep getting better.
Count me as one of your prayer partners.