in the Middle of the Night
Last night at work, I told my coworker I was determined to finish everything on time... because my shift ended at 7:30am, and I was scheduled to play violin at church at 8:15am. "It might be a little tight!" I said.
I needed to drive home (a 15-minute drive), shower, change, grab my violin, eat something, and drive to church (a 10-minute drive). If I clocked out at 7:30, that didn't leave me with many spare minutes. Classic Megan style.
This coworker made it very clear that she didn't go to church. Though she had been raised in a southern baptist home and gone to church three times each week as a child, she said it wasn't her "thing" anymore. She said she felt like she "probably should" go to church, but she didn't. Another coworker agreed with her, and as I continued in my work at a nearby computer, the two of them continued to chat.
Her next sentence shocked me a bit:
"Eventually you grow up and realize it's all a hoopla," she said.
A moment ago she had said that she felt like she "should" have church as a part of her life. But why would she feel that way if she truly believed it was all a "hoopla"? Perhaps her conscience was still in tact...
But even still, my heart broke for her in that moment. My whole being felt sad, and I prayed for the words. The words never came, and I said nothing else. I sat there silent. Stunned. Hurt.
My hope for the world flickered. In the darkness, I inwardly sobbed. As the youngest nurse on the floor, I'd been thrown under the bus: to my coworker, it would seem I hadn't yet "grown up" into the belief she had about church being a place to mislead and confuse (the definition of the word "hoopla").
The darkness of the hospital in the middle of the night seemed overwhelmingly deep, and I felt surrounded by loss. There were people to take care of, wounds to dress, and medications to be given. So, with a spirit of grief I continued in my work.
However, from reflecting on that grief-filled silence (and in speaking with the wise friends and family God has given to me), I've learned a lot.
1 Peter 3:15 calls us to be prepared to give an answer for the hope we have inside of us. At this moment though, I didn't have words to form an answer. So, my answer was silence.
And since, I've been reminded:
- It is the Holy Spirit ALONE who can change hearts.
- Our words won't ever be enough, and that's why we need God's word.
- You cannot MAKE someone feel the love of Jesus (thank you to my dear friend Kirsten for reminding me of this truth this morning)
- God doesn't need you, you need Him.
Thankfully God isn't relying on me to bring salvation to others. He does that himself.
And, I know the truth. I've seen God work, and my joy is not broken. Even in sadness, the deepest joy remains. The words of the world cannot overrule the words of the Lord. Ever. My value isn't in what others think of me, and I'm choosing to grow up in Christ, not in the world.
God invites us INTO the opportunities to share his truth, but "his delight in us doesn't change based on how we performed in them," my friend Kirsten said.
My mom also reminded me that God will give you the words if he wants to use you in the process of changing someone's heart.
Can silence be an answer, too?
As I've thought about this, I've realized that the answer is a heart of worship. It isn't a specific word or a lack thereof. Here's why:
In Acts 16:25-40 we read the story of the philippian jailer. "About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them" (verse 25).
Even in the middle of the night, your words and actions can be a song, prayerful and beautiful.
No matter what type of prison you find yourself in, let your life song sing to God, and this will be a witness to those around you. The unbelievers around you are prisoners to sin, destruction, and loss. But, as we see in this passage, God bursts bonds apart. As we keep reading the story, he opens doors and saves lives. Literally.
When Paul and Silas praised God in the midst of the dark prison, "the foundations of the prison were shaken." They simply chose to worship. A heart of worship is all that God desires, and He'll make the rest happen.
As God worked in the situation of the philippian jailer, following prayer and worship, here's what happened:
- In the middle of the night, the foundations of the prison were shaken (verse 26).
- In the middle of the night, God broke the bonds of the prisoners (verse 26).
- In the middle of the night, God opened the prison doors (verse 27).
- In the middle of the night, wounds were washed (verse 33).
- In the middle of the night, a man (who was at such a low point in his life that he was about to take his own life) chose to believe in Jesus.
- In the middle of the night, there is a call for light (verse 29).
Don't let the light flicker or fade out of your life. Use the time and opportunities God has given you, simply starting with prayer and praise. Silence happens, and God can use that, too. He doesn't rely on you, but he chooses to use you as he sees fit. He wants your heart to reflect his heart, and in everything, he's inviting you to share in the joy of the work he's already doing.
Even in the middle of the night, God's light is there.
