When Evangelism Looks Scary

I want to be a messenger, more specifically a God-messenger.  Someone who tells others life giving news, promises and surprises that God has in store for them.  I’ve tasted this once before.  When we first moved to Toowoomba I was reading and listening to a lot of testimonies of supernatural evangelism.  Asking God for a prophetic word or dream to share with a special treasure he had waiting for me.

I started a little group for this purpose and I was revved with enthusiasm, though I’m not sure how brave I was, as you’ll see further down.

We lived opposite a big shopping centre with a medical centre and a pub, and met on a Tuesday night to pray for our neighbourhood and sometimes venture out into it to find someone to pray for. 

You see, I had a dream and in that dream were some clues and I can’t really remember because this happened nearly two years ago, and if I go digging for that journal it will take more than 5 minutes this Friday!  I do remember the phrase that ended the dream.  “They began their mission in the place of the upside down M.”

Now why didn’t God just say W?  I don’t know, but somehow we knew that’s what it meant.  So Stephen and I, and his cousin Rachel and our friend Nicole, we went exploring.  Wandered over to Maccas, and Coles and a few other places, and then we approached the pub, because it started with W.    And there we found this little family, eating chips like in my dream and we weren’t sure what to say to them, while the owner’s were looking on worried about us wandering around looking odd.   So we huddled back out to the carpark, and brave me, I insisted Stephen go in and offer to pray for them, and hesitantly he went, longing to turn back and we prayed him in fiercely, shy and determined to do this job.  He asked them if they wanted prayer, and actually, yes they did.  A friend of theirs had a dying son, please pray.

We were messengers, shy, trembling but wanting to spread hope.  It must be time to do something crazy fun like this again.  The enemy was scared of us, us a little band of trembling prayerful people standing shivering in the carpark, and he was scared, and he sent fear and somehow it’s taken a year to recover and the group fell apart, but I’m still a messenger and now I’m pulling on my brave boots again because I need to trek some hope somewhere in this crazy new neighbourhood I live in with its police drug raids next door and opposite and the kids that jump our fence and peer in our windows.

And this has taken more than 5 minutes, but I just had to tell you, I’m a messenger and you are too, and if you want encouragement in your journey, maybe read this, all about heavenly messengers.

Five Minute Friday