When we lived in Southern California, I attended a gym. Fitness facilities in this area are unique to say the least. I think many gym members came to find dates, others came to show off their plastic surgery, and others, well… I never could quite figure out their reasons. Surrounded by such superficiality masking such deep pain, I began to use this time to pray. As I did, I felt God calling me to pray with one of the members in particular. But surely not! I didn’t know this person! I must have heard God wrong. So instead of obeying, I delayed, asking for clarification. This went on for some time, me looking for that giant neon sign that said, “Yes, Jennifer, pray with my child.” And then we moved, and I regret not following through.
Today’s post comes from a fellow ACFW author, Sandy Nadeau. As you read about how God nudged her to be His hands and feet, think about how He might be wanting to do the same through you. Because if we truly are His hands and feet, we need to get moving.
When God nudges
Years ago while I was in a local store, I passed by an aisle noticing out of the corner of my eye, a young gal all goth’ed up. Beyond what most Goths did for makeup and dress. I got an overwhelming sense of….almost evil radiating from her. It stopped me in my tracks. I backed up, looked down the aisle at her and felt goose bumps rise up on my skin. My pulse and heart rate went up. I just felt so unsettled. I knew God was nudging me that I had to pray for her and do it now.
I made like I was looking at cards and began an earnest prayer for this young gal’s soul. To get out of whatever she was involved in. The prayer went directions I wouldn’t have known, so I knew the Holy Spirit was involved. But the feelings inside of me were of a true battle going on. The more I prayed, the more I felt a pulling trying to get me to move on, to stop. I did all I could to keep my feet planted where I was. My brow began to sweat. It was many strange sensations as I tried to stand in the gap for this girl.
The feelings that crawled all over me, felt consuming, eerie, I prayed harder. It was only minutes, but I felt like I was transported somewhere else as I prayed. Then it was over, I had no more words. I looked at her one last time then moved on. I’ve never forgotten her. I can trust that God did something for her that day. And I still pray for her.
Sandy Nadeau is a writer of inspirational adventure fiction stories sprouting from her own adventures around Colorado. Sometimes she just has to write about true experiences however. Sandy has been writing for over twenty-five years with twelve years as a columnist for a local newspaper, a few articles have been published in national magazines; she does all the publicity for her church along with a self-published book about her church’s history. Her heart is for writing fiction now, but life’s experiences and adventures are on her blog. She’s been married to her best friend for thirty-five years, has one daughter and a great dog named Gus.