Summer was coming to an end, but it felt like it had already been the longest year of my life. Like maybe I’d already lived it twice or something crazy. Needless to say, I was ready to move on. I was ready for the brighter day that had been promised to me. I had a “Miracles Needed” list that was a mile long, and I was tired of contending. I was definitely over 2017.
Have you ever noticed that the world never stops spinning when you need it to? It’s almost as if the hands on the clock dance on by like you’re not right there in front of them doubled over, frozen, and out of breath. Rude. Know what I mean? When your insides are screaming…
“I just. Need. A MINUUUUUTE!”
I’ve often made the joke that 2017 was everything I ever wanted and so much less. It was crazy. It was beautiful. I hated it. I needed it. You get it.
So, it was August, and I was at my favorite event of every year joining thousands of hungry, adoring hearts to lift the name of Jesus for 72 hours straight in the English countryside. We gather from all over the world in a giant blue tent that I’m pretty sure can be seen from outer space. It’s amazing.
As one team moves off the stage, another moves on, but the worship continues. The transitions are meant to be seamless. Sometimes the team that’s up next will sing the song that the team before them sang last, careful to serve what God was already doing. We’ve grown into a giant family, and so it feels like a family room where we just take turns leading each other another to the face of Jesus. Everyone has a place. Everyone has a voice. Everyone has a story and a song, and somehow each one is heard in this sacred tent of meeting.
It was my turn to take the stage with my team. We took the midday set, which happens to be the hottest point in the day, and we worship until we’ve soaked our clothes with sweat. I’d even go so far as to say that the 3 p.m. set is the most “fragrant” offering of them all. My friend, Sean, had been leading the song “I Love Your Presence” for quite some time when all of the sudden, the atmosphere changed again. It was like Jesus Himself was so overcome by the sound of our love that He couldn’t help but sing those words back to us.
We all stopped singing. The band played softly. A Holy hush moved through the tent, it seemed we all knew that God was doing something deep down in our hearts and souls. Too deep for words. And, as I leaned my head back and let His Presence begin to wash over me, I found myself breathing these words out to God…
“You are my oxygen. You’re making me want to live again.”
He was restoring me, and it was His joy to do so.
But, when we’ve done everything we know how to do, and we’ve worshipped, and we’ve contended with the prayers He’s led us to pray … the only thing left to do is trust. Just stand back and watch Him do it.
When you’ve come to the end of your song, let Him sing to you. He is the oxygen that fills your lungs. Slow down. Breathe Him in. Let Him restore you. Let Him fight for you. Even when your “yes” is weak, if it’s all you have, it’s all He wants.
“Oxygen” by Steffany Gretzinger