I was just filling in. I wasn't really supposed to be there. The prayer room is normally manned by more experienced prayers, more wisdom. It was me. Alone. I was the token prayer for the morning, and I just figured people would just see me and figure that I was just too young to be in there.. so they wouldn't come.
He pops in.. obviously in a hurry. I know his position, but I don't know him personally yet.
"Are you praying today?"
"Can you pray for me?"
I mumble a fast prayer and this man is on his way as quickly as he came.
I spent the rest of the hour beating myself up.
Lies flooded through my brain in rapid succession, and I am afraid I chose to believe them. A battle any warrior should have fought. I chose to sit in self pity and my own not good enoughs.
Stepping out of the prayer room, physically ready to attend worship, I run into my brother and I confess to him the events of the last hour.
He smiles and simply says, "That would have never happened before. Look at how far you have come."
Grace. My brother gives me grace over and over. He knows my journey to the core, and he speaks truth into the lies that coat my soul. I tear up and slap him on the arm, irritated he's always right.
God is good to show me what I need, yesterday in that prayer room. He showed me that I am worthy to pray for a fellow journeyer, a sinner just like me. No, he wasn't on a pedestal, never was. He was in fact, the perfect person to remind me that being a warrior means you need to always be ready to fight. Even if that fight is against the world inside myself.
" Do not love the world or the things in the world.
If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him."
1 John 2:15