As I made my way to the stage, I couldn't help but think back to the last altar call I made. There are a few key altar calls throughout my life that replay through my memories, but the most recent one probably took place two years ago, in our old church. I was alone and no longer pregnant and planning to attend our babies' funeral that same day. I was broken. I remember falling forward, unable to catch my breath and before I knew it, our Pastor had his hands around me and praying over me. I looked up and looked out at the church. Between each blink, tears fell and I could see the familiar faces staring back at me. These faces seemed distant to me at the time. I felt like I was living on a whole other planet than them, alone. I was alone.
This trip to the altar felt different. I didn't feel as shattered and even though I didn't have anyone walking down with me at first, I didn't care. In the past, this would have struck a nerve. I would have told myself I was unworthy as I took each step closer to the stage, but this time, I felt secure in knowing He was walking beside me.
As Zach Williams sang his lyrics, one by one my layers were being peeled back. I could feel them and this time I didn't want to fight against the release.
"And bring it all to the table. There's nothing He ain't seen before
For all your fear, all your sorrow, and your sadness
There's a Savior and He calls
Bring it all to the table."
Before I knew it, I was no longer alone. My friend followed behind and wrapped her arms around me and her timing seemed to be on point. As He peeled back my final layer, I grabbed her closer and I fell forward, unable to catch my breath.
As I closed my eyes visions of the hospital began to flash, only this time it wasn't from my perspective. It was from His.
"If you have a tragic memory play over and over again, come to the table," Mike Weaver, the lead singer of Big Daddy Weave, had said just moments before I took my first step towards him. The very same reason I made my way to the stage, became the very same reason He called me there, to His table. He knows the traumatic flashbacks I play on repeat, almost daily, and this time He had a gift in store for me. I just had to bring it to the table. It wasn't anything He hadn't seen before. He knows my fears, my sorrows and He FEELS my sadness, and last night, He met me at His table.
When I think back to September 19th, I see the boys. I see Grady on my chest and then flash to him in his bed and then I flash to the moment I held them both and kissed their foreheads. I bounce back and forth to those memories and try to take in all the smells, noises, and all my actions. Did I do it right? Did I do my best? Was I the best mother I could have been in the short time I was allowed? Was Grady alone? Was he alone because of me?
While my flashbacks bounce all around I search. I search for answers, and I search for my actions and what I could have done better. My flashbacks tell me I was alone in that labor and delivery room, Grady was alone when I left him, and I was alone when I held our boys. I can't see anyone else in the room. It breaks my heart.
But last night, I saw that September morning replay through His eyes and instead of being in the room on my eye level, I'm above the hospital on His. The ceiling is removed from the hospital and it almost looks as those I'm watching a 3-D view of a blueprint. Only this blueprint is real life. There are nurses running through the halls, there are screams bouncing around, charts being read and then there's our story, being played out.
To the right of the building lies our labor and delivery room. Grady is in his bed and I can see two angels beside him. He's not alone. I can feel the presence of God in that room because from way up here, God is large enough to cover the whole span of the hospital. He's in every room at the same time.
I can see a small hallway just outside the OR and I can see Nick. He's standing there, praying, waiting. As I stare at him I can feel God's heart soften. It's as though He's aching in that moment with him, He's weeping with him.
And across that hallway lies a door that holds me and Ryder in our operation room. There are two angels beside me waiting for Ryder, and it almost feels as though God spoke to me. I can't quite make out what we're talking about but I have this overwhelming feeling of restoration and it feels good. It feels light.
While my flashbacks deceive me and show me moments of loneliness and heartache, God revealed to me a whole new perspective full of comfort and His love.
I know God has called me into something larger for His own good, and there are days I shut down in fear of all I think He wants me to do. I have this on-going list of reasons why I can't do it.
I don't have enough time.
I don't have enough finances.
I don't have enough resources.
I don't have enough energy.
And last night it was made very clear that I need to remove "me" and add in "God," and that very same rule needs to apply when I think back to September 19th when I search for the actions I made and determine whether or not if they were enough.
S E P T E M E R 1 9
I left my baby. > God was with my baby.
I couldn't save their lives. > God saved their lives.
I was alone. > God was with me.
Nick was alone. > God was with him.
G O D ' S C A L L I N G
I don't have enough time. > God timing is perfect timing.
I don't have enough finances. > This is God's plan, He will provide.
I don't have enough resources. > God is your resource.
I don't have enough energy. > God has already paved a way.
So friends, what layers have you been packing on that need to be peeled back? What has He been asking you to bring to the table? What makes you fall forward, unable to catch your breath? What fears do you need to remove yourself from and replace with the One who promises us good? Let's not do this life in fear and allowing our tragic moments decide what we grasp onto. Let's stop viewing our lives from our perspective and take it up to His eye level and see it through His. There's hope to be told, love to be shared and a joy to grab onto.
So today, I encourage you to bring it all to the table. There's nothing He ain't seen before.
For all your fear, all your sorrow, and your sadness, there's a Savior and He calls, bring it all to the table.