What, then, is Apollo? What is Paul? They are servants through whom you believed, and each has the role the Lord has given. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So then neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth…

— 1 Corinthians 3:5-7

             As I prepared to leave California and drive back home to Arkansas, my nursing contract having ended (see “The Most Reluctant Convert” post for the first part of this story), I bought myself a Bible to read along the way. But I needed to find a church. There’s a ton of churches in Arkansas, so it shouldn’t be too hard, I thought, but I really had no idea where to start. Having never-before-in-my-adult-life walked into a church for anything more than sight-seeing purposes, how was I supposed to choose a church?

             Well, I just so happen to have a first cousin who is a preacher in San Diego. Phone-a-friend saved me on this one! You can imagine his shock when I called him out-of-the-blue one day to ask him to do a little church shopping for me. He was profoundly surprised, but also delighted. He revealed to me then that he had been praying for me— and everyone else in our family— by name, for over four years.

             That revelation humbled me. It had never really occurred to me that there might be people— especially people who were physically distant from me— who were petitioning God on my behalf. (I later learned that this concept is known as “intercessory prayer”— and many, many people engage in prayer every day on behalf of not-only-family, but also strangers all over the world. Further, the Bible states that the Holy Spirit can petition God on our behalf, too (see “Holy Groans” post)). My cousin told me that my coming-into-the-faith encouraged him, too— it’s hard to pray for something, for years, and to see no palpable effect, to get no obvious answer. This little tale is a good reminder to me that, although we may not always be able to see behind the curtain, we can rest assured that God is always there, is always working. For another real-life story that vividly illustrates the power of prayer, see “God Speaks – Visions or Dreams” post.

             Continuing my tale, my cousin texted me later with a suggestion that I check out “Fellowship Bible Church.” He told me that he was familiar with their theology, that they preach from the Bible, and that they are actively engaged in church-planting and outreach. So, the next Sunday, I put on a dress and grabbed my Bible and headed to church. I sat in the parking lot for a minute, gathering the courage to go in. I thought, “I’ll just slip in the back, un-noticed, and see what they do. I’ll just see how it feels.” Boy, was I wrong! (And thank God for that!)

             The moment I stepped through the doors, I was heartily greeted by an elderly man with the brightest baby blues and cowboy boots. To my horror, he happily exclaimed, “You’re new here, aren’t you!” I mumbled something like, “Yep, you got me.” He shook my hand, then led me over to the breakfast booth. I took a donut, a program, and wandered into the sanctuary and found a seat.

             I don’t remember the topic that was being preached, but by the end of the sermon and worship songs, I was in tears— I just felt so… moved… by the whole thing. The room was just so full of good, pure, loving energy. I’d never really experienced the love of God on such a scale until that day. I could feel it, radiating out of these people, this room full of precious strangers. How could I have been so wrong, for so long?

             As I was sitting there trying to regain my composure, a woman who looked to be about my age, also with dazzling blue eyes, waltzed over and introduced herself. She asked me what was wrong, and I confessed to her that it was my first voluntary church experience, probably in my life. She called the pastor over, and after asking me if I wanted to talk, they took me aside to a private room. There, I shared some of my life story— the years of suffering and anger and rebellion— and how I came to be in their church that day. They both sat quietly and listened. The looks of care and concern on their faces were genuine. I don’t remember the exact words they said to me, but their words were full of grace, and mercy, and love. By the time I left the room that day, I knew I would be back the next Sunday. There was something undeniably good about these people.

             A year-and-a-half later, I still call Fellowship my church home. The incredibly welcoming atmosphere and the hearts of God’s people shone so bright that I could not deny that there was something weird at work here— something supernatural in the air. Something that you don’t run across often in the dog-eat-dog world of the secular day-to-day. I wanted what they had. I wanted God.

             As a postscript, I no longer believe in coincidences— God’s plan is so intricate, so unfathomable! I love seeing pieces to the puzzle come together. I feel that God used my cousin to direct me to a church that would give me the support and encouragement that I needed, to grow in my faith and my relationship to Him. There were some other people, throughout the course of my life, who tried to show me the truth. But I just wasn’t ready to hear it, at those times. I’m grateful to those people, too, who were beautiful guideposts along the path.

             My own story serves to remind me that, as God’s people, we are called to plant seeds— all of those people in my past planted seeds in my heart— but we should not be discouraged if we don’t see the harvest. Our role in someone else’s life may only be as a planter or a waterer, and someone else may reap the harvest— but ultimately, God is the one who gives the growth. My time had come. I’m so grateful that I now have the comfort of God, and Jesus, and the Spirit—I don’t think I would have made it through these past two years without them. Thank you, Lord.