How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news.....
We bend low together, heads touching as we scrutinize the stained, creased paper on the table. Fingers trace the lines of print, foreheads crease with questions. As we prepare our lesson, it comes again. The old, old feeling. It washes over me like a tidal wave, and carries me back out with it into the sea of doubt. This sounds so ridiculous…so feeble. How will the girls ever understand? Do the leaders themselves understand? Are we sowing the Word of God or our own weak words? They shake their heads, and say the words I’ve heard so many times, “I don’t understand.” I manage a faint smile, and we turn back to that paper. I printed it yesterday, but it looks so old. I explain, and as the words pass from my mouth I hear Anna on the other side of the room explaining too. What rejoicing when the new leader finally understands! What cold dread when she shakes her head and says, “I’ll just try to do it.” and you know that even if she does “do it” fine, she hasn’t absorbed it, hasn’t understood it, hasn’t made it part of her life. What right have we to tell girls how to live their lives if we can’t live ours first? How far we are from holiness!
What a God we serve! How He could ever make use of us, of our feeble attempts to make known the glorious mysteries of eternity that angels long to look into, is beyond my comprehension. How does He use these stammering lips, these dull hearts, these broken lives? I just can’t understand it. I sit back, stretch, look wearily at those girls trying to learn by heart the lesson when all I want is that they would learn it with their heart.
Tomorrow and Thursday we are again teaching the girls.
Pray for us, as the going can seem so hard, the mystery so great, the road so tedious.
Pray that it is Jesus who is preached – not our feeble, broken selves, but JESUS – the master potter who is molding us into vessels for His glory. May we have the eyes of faith to look beyond these moments into the eternal fruit it will bear.