If I love the Lord as much as I say I do, shouldn't I be on street corners witnessing to the lost? Shouldn't I be telling everyone I meet about the marvelous love of Jesus? Shouldn't I be inviting the lost, the widows and the orphans to live in my home?
Is staying home with my children, home schooling them, preparing meals for them, vacuuming, dusting (OK, skip the dusting), washing clothes, cleaning floors and bathing babies enough? Or is there more that I should be doing to further the gospel of Christ?
One day, as I was doing some soul searching, the Lord brought to mind some of the people who had made the greatest impact on my life. He reminded me that the real influences on my life were those "behind the scenes" people. They were the people in my life who administered "first aid." They were the ones who got me through the rough times. They were the ones who brought me closer to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. They were the unsung heroes who saved my life!
I recalled a boy in my ninth-grade English class who witnessed to me. It was the first time someone actually told me that I needed to accept Jesus into my life. I could not even remember the boy's name, but I remembered His Savior's name. That faithful, young servant planted a seed and brought me closer to saying "Yes!" to Jesus. I wonder if, after talking with me at school, did he go home and pray for me?
Then, He reminded me of my high school English teacher. After I graduated from high school she continued to pray frequently for me. At the time, I didn't even know she was praying for me. I returned home, on leave from the Air Force, and went to see her. How her heart must have broken to see that I was not living a godly lifestyle, that I was turning away from my parents, that I was going down a path that was headed for destruction. On that day I poured out my heart to her, and she administered first aid. Did she pray for me many years after that? I believe she did.
My aunt and uncle also interceded on my behalf. They never ceased to lift me up in prayer. They never thought I was a hopeless case, though I did. They never gave up on me. They continued giving me first aid.
There was the wife of my husband's co-worker. She, too, gave me first aid. There were the people at the small Bible church that I began attending with my young children. They also administered first aid.
I have often wondered how many more "behind-the-scenes" people administered first aid to me so that I could live. These heroes in my life are the people who, prompted by the Holy Spirit, got down on their knees and prayed for me. They are the ones who saved my life.
It wasn't the person out on the street evangelizing, or the pastor of a church, or the missionaries in Mozambique. It was the prayers of the saints.
I wonder if someone prayed for a hedge of protection to surround me as I walked around that Los Angeles neighborhood at night, alone, a young, naive girl from Iowa who was living in the "big city" for the first time. Was I protected because someone was praying for me?
As I sat on the side of the freeway at 4 o'clock in the morning beside my broken-down car, were prayers going up on my behalf? Did someone pray when the unspeakable happened? Did someone pray that I could forgive and heal?
When I was lost, alone and frightened, did someone get down on their knees? When I felt there was no point in living, did someone cry out for me?
When the invitation to receive salvation was given, was there one person who knew how hard it was for me to raise my hand? Was there one person who prayed with all their might that I would come? Was there one?
Many years have come and gone. I wonder how many times people have prayed for me.
When I lay in a pool of blood on the floor of my bathroom, was there one?
As my son struggled for life, was there one? Was there one who was called from his sleep to pray? Was there one who got on his knees and began to reach out to the Father, to appeal to Him on my behalf, on behalf of my son, on behalf of my seven children and their daddy? Was there one who administered first aid?
Yes! And our precious Savior heard each and every one of those prayers. And He said, "Live."
As we struggle, wondering if what we are doing is all we can do for Christ, I say, "No." But, you do not have to quit home schooling, or being a stay-at-home mom so you can start witnessing on street corners.
Dear women, all you have to do is become a volunteer in the Lord's Royal Red Cross. You don't have to join the army. Administer first aid to a lost and dying world. Be the one.
If it hadn't been for those people who were willing to take their orders from the "General," where would we all be?
How desperately I want to be a woman of prayer! I want to be the one who calls on the Father and a life is saved. I want to be the one who cries out and a broken family is put back together. I want to be the one who sees lives changed for God. I want to be the one who never gives up on someone - the person who keeps on praying, even when it looks like all hope is gone. I want to be the old, persistent woman detaining the Judge at His door.
We are in a unique position as home-schooling moms. We can stop whatever we are doing to get down on our knees to pray. There is no chance that we will get fired from our job for a "public display of religion." Enter the Holy of Holies and plead for those around you who have been injured by the enemy.
When God says, "Pray!" I want to be the one who says, "Yes, Lord."
Is staying home with my children, home schooling them, preparing meals for them, vacuuming, dusting (OK, skip the dusting), washing clothes, cleaning floors and bathing babies enough? Or is there more that I should be doing to further the gospel of Christ?
One day, as I was doing some soul searching, the Lord brought to mind some of the people who had made the greatest impact on my life. He reminded me that the real influences on my life were those "behind the scenes" people. They were the people in my life who administered "first aid." They were the ones who got me through the rough times. They were the ones who brought me closer to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. They were the unsung heroes who saved my life!
I recalled a boy in my ninth-grade English class who witnessed to me. It was the first time someone actually told me that I needed to accept Jesus into my life. I could not even remember the boy's name, but I remembered His Savior's name. That faithful, young servant planted a seed and brought me closer to saying "Yes!" to Jesus. I wonder if, after talking with me at school, did he go home and pray for me?
Then, He reminded me of my high school English teacher. After I graduated from high school she continued to pray frequently for me. At the time, I didn't even know she was praying for me. I returned home, on leave from the Air Force, and went to see her. How her heart must have broken to see that I was not living a godly lifestyle, that I was turning away from my parents, that I was going down a path that was headed for destruction. On that day I poured out my heart to her, and she administered first aid. Did she pray for me many years after that? I believe she did.
My aunt and uncle also interceded on my behalf. They never ceased to lift me up in prayer. They never thought I was a hopeless case, though I did. They never gave up on me. They continued giving me first aid.
There was the wife of my husband's co-worker. She, too, gave me first aid. There were the people at the small Bible church that I began attending with my young children. They also administered first aid.
I have often wondered how many more "behind-the-scenes" people administered first aid to me so that I could live. These heroes in my life are the people who, prompted by the Holy Spirit, got down on their knees and prayed for me. They are the ones who saved my life.
It wasn't the person out on the street evangelizing, or the pastor of a church, or the missionaries in Mozambique. It was the prayers of the saints.
I wonder if someone prayed for a hedge of protection to surround me as I walked around that Los Angeles neighborhood at night, alone, a young, naive girl from Iowa who was living in the "big city" for the first time. Was I protected because someone was praying for me?
As I sat on the side of the freeway at 4 o'clock in the morning beside my broken-down car, were prayers going up on my behalf? Did someone pray when the unspeakable happened? Did someone pray that I could forgive and heal?
When I was lost, alone and frightened, did someone get down on their knees? When I felt there was no point in living, did someone cry out for me?
When the invitation to receive salvation was given, was there one person who knew how hard it was for me to raise my hand? Was there one person who prayed with all their might that I would come? Was there one?
Many years have come and gone. I wonder how many times people have prayed for me.
When I lay in a pool of blood on the floor of my bathroom, was there one?
As my son struggled for life, was there one? Was there one who was called from his sleep to pray? Was there one who got on his knees and began to reach out to the Father, to appeal to Him on my behalf, on behalf of my son, on behalf of my seven children and their daddy? Was there one who administered first aid?
Yes! And our precious Savior heard each and every one of those prayers. And He said, "Live."
As we struggle, wondering if what we are doing is all we can do for Christ, I say, "No." But, you do not have to quit home schooling, or being a stay-at-home mom so you can start witnessing on street corners.
Dear women, all you have to do is become a volunteer in the Lord's Royal Red Cross. You don't have to join the army. Administer first aid to a lost and dying world. Be the one.
If it hadn't been for those people who were willing to take their orders from the "General," where would we all be?
How desperately I want to be a woman of prayer! I want to be the one who calls on the Father and a life is saved. I want to be the one who cries out and a broken family is put back together. I want to be the one who sees lives changed for God. I want to be the one who never gives up on someone - the person who keeps on praying, even when it looks like all hope is gone. I want to be the old, persistent woman detaining the Judge at His door.
We are in a unique position as home-schooling moms. We can stop whatever we are doing to get down on our knees to pray. There is no chance that we will get fired from our job for a "public display of religion." Enter the Holy of Holies and plead for those around you who have been injured by the enemy.
When God says, "Pray!" I want to be the one who says, "Yes, Lord."
In addition to devoting herself to her husband and the eight children she home schools, Terri also enjoys writing and speaking to offer encouragement to women in an effervescent, humorous way. Visit her Web site at www.ignitethefire.com or e-mail her at terri@ignitethefire.com.