There are so many things I’ve wanted to tell y’all about since I’ve been in Hawaii but God has been blessing me with such full days that there’s no time for anything. Tonight, though, I have to set aside everything I’ve wanted to say about the grandeur of God and the irony of giving a talk on humility and the inadequacy you feel when you’re working for the Lord. Because tonight, God showed up.
This visit has been incredible for so many reasons, but I think the greatest joy hasn’t been the beaches or the food but the opportunity for ministry. I’ve had at least one talk every day and I’ve seen so many of the same faces. These women, these incredible Army wives who stay behind as single mothers while their husbands are out serving their country—after only a few days, I’m so proud to call them my friends. They are strong and beautiful and holy and desperate to live in God’s will and I’m humbled by their service and their hospitality and their fellowship and honesty and brokenness. Again and again I’m amazed by them.
This morning, I had a room full of these incredible ladies for one of my very favorite talks on knowing that you are beautiful and loved and resting in God’s embrace. Friends, it was powerful. We ended with an Ignatian meditation on the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet and women were sharing what the Lord had shown them in prayer. I could really tell that the Holy Spirit had been working.
So I wasn’t totally looking forward to tonight’s meeting. It was all women again and I wanted to give the same talk but I knew it wouldn’t be the same. When it goes so well in the morning, it never feels right in the evening. Besides, some of the ladies had come for round 2 and I didn’t want to bore them. But the Lord is in control, so I started talking, knowing that he would lead.
The talk went pretty well—knowing that God loves you, trusting that he’s working through your pain, accepting that you don’t have to earn his love. I sang “If You Want Me To,” by Ginny Owens, and moved into a meditation on the woman caught in adultery.
Now, I’ve given this meditation plenty of times. Every time, I get the same reactions. The girls are usually the woman, the boys bystanders. Occasionally I find a Pharisee in there, but it’s pretty clearly a meditation on how God forgives people and that’s how people interpret it.
I knew something was up when I looked up after the meditation and almost everyone was crying. Then we started talking about our experiences.
“I was so angry at the Pharisees. I was so, so mad—I’m still mad. I don’t have any idea what it means, but I’m mad.”
“I stood with Jesus and just looked at the woman. I looked at her and I loved her.”
“At the end, Jesus left, but I didn’t go with him. I knelt down by the woman and just stayed with her.”
“When they brought her in, I went and stood in front of her. I was going to shield her from the stones with my body.”
Almost every woman there shared that her meditation was focused on loving the sinful woman. I thought it was strange until the last woman shared.
“I was her,” she said, in a broken voice. “I was her and I don’t feel any better.”
And she sobbed. And we sobbed. And I looked around the room and realized that these women had all along been sitting in a circle around their heartbroken sister. During this meditation, they were surrounding her. In their hearts, not knowing what her struggle was, they were fighting her enemies, defending her, loving her, consoling her. For these women, in this moment, fellowship looked a little less like coffee hour and a little more like prayer warriors going into battle for each other. The Lord put these reflections on their hearts so that she could hear that not only has God forgiven her, so have they. And as we talked and prayed, they prayed and cried and loved her.
This, my friends, is what it means to be a Christian. We fight for each other and bleed for each other and weep and live and die for each other. We’re not called the Church Militant for nothing, and these Army wives know it. It’s so easy for women’s groups to become middle school girls’ groups, to be filled with drama and judgment and competition. Today, the Lord worked a miracle to show his mercy. “Neither do I condemn you,” he said. “Neither does she condemn you. And she won’t abandon you. And that one’s ready to go nuclear on anyone who does. Because you deserve it.”
This woman is beautiful and funny and loving. She is an incredible mother and has a husband who loves her desperately. She’s been forgiven. But her heart can’t hear it. So tonight, the Lord raised up a community to speak truth to her heart.
As she drove me home, this song came on the radio, sending that message of forgiveness once again:
All my life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret
But when I hear You whisper, “Child lift up your head”
I remember, oh God, You’re not done with me yetI am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, now I’m not who I used to be
If you’re where my dear friend is right now, hating yourself, feeling worthless, certain that God couldn’t really forgive you, please hear this: When God washed you clean, heaven rejoiced. In that moment, the record of your sins was obliterated. Our God is so consumed by his love of you that who you were never crosses his mind. “Though your sins be as scarlet, I will wash them whiter than snow,” he said to David. To David. Like, send-others-to-risk-their-lives-for-me, use-my-office-to-make-a-married-woman-sleep-with-me, send-her-husband-to-his-death-to-cover-it-up David. White as snow.
He could have redeemed you with one drop of his blood but he wanted you to know what you were worth. And so, stripped and beaten, the God of the universe stretched out his arms between heaven and earth to tell you that he loves you, he forgives you, and he longs for you. Not because he had to–because he wanted to. And he’d do it again.
I would stake my salvation on this fact: no matter what, you are loved. I only hope you have a community around you that shows you.
Today, please stand with me and this community, swords drawn, to surround our sister in prayer. Pray with me for comfort for her broken heart. And praise God with me that she is forgiven, redeemed, and made new in Christ. How great is our God.
Thank you so much for posting this Meg. What a beautiful and heart wrenching experience. As someone who has been hurt deeply by adultery, it is interesting to read your post with that perspective. I am at a place now where I grieve for how sin makes people change- makes them feel hopeless and worthless. It allows evil to win in so many ways. Sin is so powerful and it lies to us. But love and forgiveness and transparency are more powerful if you allow them to be.
Oh, Nicole, that is beautiful. And only somebody who has been there can really say it. Thank you.
Thanks Mrs. H-K:)
“…send-others-to-risk-their-lives-for-me, use-my-office-to-make-a-married-woman-sleep-with-me, send-her-husband-to-his-death-to-cover-it-up David…”
I will be borrowing this! So happy to hear this wonderful report, Meg. God bless you and all those wonderful women! Cindy
Oh my goodness, the Lord was working in such a beautiful way I had tears in my eyes throughout this post. Meg, thank you for being the Lord’s instrument, and for sharing your experiences with all of us here!
I can’t WAIT to hear you speak someday!!!
Held By His Pierced Hands” is a profoundly moving and spiritually enriching blog that beautifully explores the depths of faith and divine love. The author’s words are not only heartwarming but also deeply inspirational, reminding us of the unwavering grace and compassion that can be found in the embrace of a higher power. This blog is a touching and eloquent reminder of the profound connection we can have with our faith, even in the face of life’s challenges. It’s a testament to the author’s deep spirituality and their gift for conveying it in a relatable and uplifting way. Thank you for sharing such a soul-stirring and faith-renewing message.