Broken

 Up in Sipapu, NM God met broken people and did His work. Surprisingly He did it among adults first and then the students. All day on Saturday I asked for His word for the service that evening. I kept coming up blank. To make matters worse I could not find a spot to pray without people wandering near that spot to fish, meet in small groups, to have quiet times, and some in casual conversations. We all shared the same shower in the room where Turner and I slept. 

I sat by the stream only to have others come nearby. Then I saw it. An Academy blue canvas canopy that became my canvas canopy tent of meeting. I ducked under that place and nobody disturbed me. The canopy was raised to half its usual heights. We used that to store the lawn chairs overnight in case of rain. I sat under there with mountains in full view and the noise from the running water in the background. It was under that tent of meeting that God formed the message in me. A message for broken people. God also inspired how to direct the invitation. Adults would confess their broken areas first and have students come pray for them. Then students would have adults pray over them afterward. I really did not anticipate the powerful way God would move that evening. 

I preached the word of the Lord with great fervor. I confessed my broken area before the rest of the adults were challenged to do the same. I feel like a failure. I have most of my life. I have no great list of accomplishments to boast. No distinguished track record of successes. Most of my ministry has been spent in shepherding churches of 50 people or less. No matter what people say about my preaching, the truth is people do not flock to hear what God inspires in me. There are more empty seats than filled ones on Sunday mornings. More people have come and left again than have stayed hooked. I know in my head that God judges on faithfulness and not on other standards to measure success. Those thoughts do not filter into my heart. Hardly a day goes by that I do not a failure before God, to my family in not being a better provider and to the flock I love so deeply. Feeling like a failure is one way Satan has bound me for years. Like the woman who was bent over doubled and could not straighten, Satan uses fear of failure to bind me. 

I confessed this to the group at the end of the message. I was still sharing my heart in the dark when I saw Turner get up from his seat on the other side of the campfire. He made his way around the group in the shadows to where I was standing. We locked arms embracingly tightly and he buried his head in my chest.  This youngest son of mine began to pray. That was a Kodak moment. Deeply etched in my mind as a treasured memory. He prayed with the fervor and maturity of a seasoned minister. It was my favorite camp moment amidst many other snapshots of the heart moments. 

The camp was silent except for the sounds of the rushing stream, the wind blowing through the trees, and the crackling of the campfire. One by one nearly every adult confessed areas of brokenness. Students gathered around each one and prayed. After what seemed like an hour, we flipped the script and the students confessed areas of brokenness. Each time the adults circled them to pray. I cannot say how long this went on. Maybe an hour and a half. That was just the prayer time.

All of this was followed by sincere worship. Broken people were made whole. Whole people were able to give their whole hearts in worship. It was a scene I can't really describe. It was something to be felt and experienced more than to be expressed in words. God was not done. He saved the best for last on the next night.