I watched a man place his faith in Jesus Christ today.
Ok, I didn't actually watch it happen. But 6 weeks ago, when my plane landed in a foreign country and I while I began to explore a new realm of food and culture, he was not a Christian. 4 weeks ago, when I first met him, he did not believe that Jesus Christ had given him eternal life through His resurrection. 2 weeks ago, he had not laid down his life at the foot of the cross, counting the cost as rubbish for the sake of Jesus. But today, today we walked along the cobblestone street, admiring the street performers and the blue sky, I was blessed to hear him tell his story: one of how he had decided that Jesus was the Truth, and that He was worth everything. I cannot begin to describe to you my elation at this moment.
But my elation was not because I had anything to do with his decision. I, in fact, had absolutely nothing to do with this decision.
It was just blessing lavished upon blessing.
******************************
Sometime in October of last year, I first heard of this young man, Dmitry*. In email correspondence with a friend living overseas, I was given the opportunity to pray for him as he actively sought truth and light in a dark world. And so I scribbled his name in the back of my Bible, where I keep a list of others around the world whom I regularly dedicate myself to praying for. And I started praying. Some weeks I labored over him every day. Some weeks I only lifted up a quick prayer while walking down the street. But every day, I would pick up that Bible and look at that list, and there was his name, staring back at me. Some days, my fickle heart didn't believe that my praying would do anything. That I would pray and pray and pray and never see results. Some days I didn't want to pray. I selfishly thought that my own problems, my own burdens ought to displace Dmitry's need for a loving savior. And so, some days, I neglected him.
But his name was always on my list, so I continued to come back to him. And as the email correspondence between this friend and I picked up, and as I began to hear more and more of his life here, Dmitry kept coming up.
Pray for him, he'd say. He's growing. He's getting closer.
So back to my knees I would go. Back to petitioning God that he would soften his heart, lift the veil, whatever metaphor or scripture I could find, I'd pray it. Sometimes it was rote - the same prayer I'd said for the last 12 people on my list. Sometimes it was genuine, gut-wrenching, searing, sobbing prayer. The more I prayed, the more it became genuine. I began to feel that, despite the fact that I couldn't pick him out of a line-up of 2, I was getting to know Dmitry.
Prayer unites people in mysterious ways. There's a kind of compassion you develop for someone when you truly labor over them in this way. It's unlike any other kind of servanthood you can conceive. Pouring out your soul at the foot of the throne of God, begging God to do something does not create a negligible bond.
So today, when Dmitry said to me that he had chosen Christ, it wasn't because I had prayed. Rather, because of these last 10 months of prayer - praying through tears and apathy and love and compassion - God has amplified my joy a hundred fold in rejoicing with a new brother.
God used my [insufficient and altogether lacking] petitions to the Holy Father, by the indwelling of his Spirit, which he gave to me by the death and resurrection of Christ, to amplify my joy at something which he did not even have to include me in, and which he was going to accomplish with or without me.
Seriously? So basically, God did everything. The Father sent the Son, even though the world was mightily screwed up. Who then lived perfectly, willingly suffered and died on the cross, and then proceeded to be raised from the dead. In order to give me [me!?!] His presence in my life all the time, in the Spirit. Who then enables me to pray, to the glory of Christ. In order that the Father might answer my prayers to His glory. All of which, in turn gives me more joy than my soul can possibly contain.
This is too good to be true. Seeing the fruit of the Gospel manifested in someone else's life is such sweet balm to my parched and weary soul, which so desperately aches for the promises of Heaven. God did not have to let me see this fruit. He graciously chose to anyways. He did not have to save me. He graciously did anyways. He did not have to enable this trip to be a possibility. He graciously did anyways. He did not have to give me an opportunity to get to know Dmitry. He graciously did anyways.
All so that, standing in the middle of a cobblestone street in a foreign land, on this random August day, God could show me how he has used and woven and molded my prayers for nothing less than my eternal happiness and unity with a brother. Who knew when I got that email 10 months ago asking for prayer, that I would be the one left speechless and overwhelmed with joy and sweet, abiding love for my God?
*Name changed for security.
Ok, I didn't actually watch it happen. But 6 weeks ago, when my plane landed in a foreign country and I while I began to explore a new realm of food and culture, he was not a Christian. 4 weeks ago, when I first met him, he did not believe that Jesus Christ had given him eternal life through His resurrection. 2 weeks ago, he had not laid down his life at the foot of the cross, counting the cost as rubbish for the sake of Jesus. But today, today we walked along the cobblestone street, admiring the street performers and the blue sky, I was blessed to hear him tell his story: one of how he had decided that Jesus was the Truth, and that He was worth everything. I cannot begin to describe to you my elation at this moment.
But my elation was not because I had anything to do with his decision. I, in fact, had absolutely nothing to do with this decision.
It was just blessing lavished upon blessing.
******************************
Sometime in October of last year, I first heard of this young man, Dmitry*. In email correspondence with a friend living overseas, I was given the opportunity to pray for him as he actively sought truth and light in a dark world. And so I scribbled his name in the back of my Bible, where I keep a list of others around the world whom I regularly dedicate myself to praying for. And I started praying. Some weeks I labored over him every day. Some weeks I only lifted up a quick prayer while walking down the street. But every day, I would pick up that Bible and look at that list, and there was his name, staring back at me. Some days, my fickle heart didn't believe that my praying would do anything. That I would pray and pray and pray and never see results. Some days I didn't want to pray. I selfishly thought that my own problems, my own burdens ought to displace Dmitry's need for a loving savior. And so, some days, I neglected him.
But his name was always on my list, so I continued to come back to him. And as the email correspondence between this friend and I picked up, and as I began to hear more and more of his life here, Dmitry kept coming up.
Pray for him, he'd say. He's growing. He's getting closer.
So back to my knees I would go. Back to petitioning God that he would soften his heart, lift the veil, whatever metaphor or scripture I could find, I'd pray it. Sometimes it was rote - the same prayer I'd said for the last 12 people on my list. Sometimes it was genuine, gut-wrenching, searing, sobbing prayer. The more I prayed, the more it became genuine. I began to feel that, despite the fact that I couldn't pick him out of a line-up of 2, I was getting to know Dmitry.
Prayer unites people in mysterious ways. There's a kind of compassion you develop for someone when you truly labor over them in this way. It's unlike any other kind of servanthood you can conceive. Pouring out your soul at the foot of the throne of God, begging God to do something does not create a negligible bond.
So today, when Dmitry said to me that he had chosen Christ, it wasn't because I had prayed. Rather, because of these last 10 months of prayer - praying through tears and apathy and love and compassion - God has amplified my joy a hundred fold in rejoicing with a new brother.
God used my [insufficient and altogether lacking] petitions to the Holy Father, by the indwelling of his Spirit, which he gave to me by the death and resurrection of Christ, to amplify my joy at something which he did not even have to include me in, and which he was going to accomplish with or without me.
Seriously? So basically, God did everything. The Father sent the Son, even though the world was mightily screwed up. Who then lived perfectly, willingly suffered and died on the cross, and then proceeded to be raised from the dead. In order to give me [me!?!] His presence in my life all the time, in the Spirit. Who then enables me to pray, to the glory of Christ. In order that the Father might answer my prayers to His glory. All of which, in turn gives me more joy than my soul can possibly contain.
This is too good to be true. Seeing the fruit of the Gospel manifested in someone else's life is such sweet balm to my parched and weary soul, which so desperately aches for the promises of Heaven. God did not have to let me see this fruit. He graciously chose to anyways. He did not have to save me. He graciously did anyways. He did not have to enable this trip to be a possibility. He graciously did anyways. He did not have to give me an opportunity to get to know Dmitry. He graciously did anyways.
All so that, standing in the middle of a cobblestone street in a foreign land, on this random August day, God could show me how he has used and woven and molded my prayers for nothing less than my eternal happiness and unity with a brother. Who knew when I got that email 10 months ago asking for prayer, that I would be the one left speechless and overwhelmed with joy and sweet, abiding love for my God?
*Name changed for security.
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