spread the word.

You know what my favorite part of the day is?

This is oddly honest, I feel a little nervous about admitting it-- it's late at night. I finish whatever is going to get finished that day. I turn off the lights, and I sit on the floor in my living room, and I pray. And I listen. And then I pray again, in english, and in tongues, and sometimes I walk while I pray. I hold up my arms to heaven, and I bow my head to my Creator, and I always end up asking for Him to do the one thing I can't promise, but so so want.

I ask God to help me love Him. I know it sounds silly. It feels silly. What does it mean for me to ask Him to help me love Him? It's like being a little kid, and your Mom gives you money to buy a gift for your Dad, and your Dad gives you money to buy for your Mom, but they're both your parents, and they have a joint account, so...

I ask God not just for wisdom with friends, and guidance in academia, and financial prudence, but for the one thing that really matters, and the one thing it feels like I should be able to do on my own.

But I can't. So I ask Him to change my heart. Every day. To remind me of Him throughout the day, to give me the peace and calm befitting a girl who knows who she is. A girl who knows exactly why she's here, and exactly who she answers to.

In production on Sundays, amidst the flurry of pre-service prep, we take a couple of minutes to gather, and pray. This morning, the prayer had a line something like this: "And give us strength, Father, as we work to spread the gospel."

I was completely broadsided. Is that what I'm doing? I'm working to spread the gospel? Like, right now? Right here? I have a hand in this whole phenomenon known as evangelizing? For real?

Seems simple, right? How had this not dawned on me before? I've long loved God for giving me this opportunity to help people worship, but it hadn't dawned on me that part of that worship is "spreading the gospel." The gospel seemed to be the domain of the preacher, and though I help the preacher get the word across, it just didn't occur to me. I didn't understand, or fully see it.

I have helped to spread the gospel, the good news, the word of God. Ho-ly crap.

I suddenly panicked. I'm not really qualified for that. That seems like something other people should be doing. Better people, maybe. Texans, and redheads, and holy, pure, peppy people. I mean, seriously--I'm praying that God would help me love Him from day to day, knowing that my affections are fickle.

Father, is that really the person you want to be helping spread the gospel? The girl who prays to You just to keep her faith? I mean, I know you've got this, and all, but...

I'm just saying.

Nevertheless, I'm there. Every Sunday. Helping. Apparently, helping to spread the gospel. My panic passed, and I thought about how church is not the exclusive domain of the gospel.

So I've got a new prayer. That God would help me spread His word not just in church, but out. This seems a silly prayer to me, as well. He gave the word, and now I'm asking Him to help me give it.

As deep as is my helplessness, so deep is His love.