Green Slate Tile

A few days ago, I began peeking back into a season of my life...eight years ago, actually...when God took me through an exercise He used in preparing me for Ryan. I took a break from it for a few days while I caught you up on life in Shafferland, but I wanted to share a bit more today. Hopefully God has something tucked in this just for you!

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By the time I actually walked up to the door of the prayer chapel, a small amount of confidence had entered my heart.  The Naaman story had spurred me to follow through.  I ached to find heart healing as much as he ached to find physical restoration.  I pulled open the heavy wooden door and peeked inside.  No one was in the tiny chapel – and it was so quiet.  I tiptoed to the second pew from the back. 

Just like church.  Why go to the front?  I sat down, placed my purse on the pew beside me and stared ahead.  I had no idea what to do – and I felt rather lost without my journal.  What did God want?  This had the potential to be the lunch hour that lasted a year. 

I glanced around for a few minutes and then decided I should at least assume a posture of prayer, just in case someone came in.  I glanced up at the altar that lined the front of the building – but this wasn’t altar material.  I eyed the kneeling bench attached to the back of the pew in front of me and toyed with the idea of kicking it down and kneeling – but decided against it.  So I just folded my hands and bowed my head…

…And stared at the floor.  The green textured slate floor seemed oddly familiar.  Where had I seen this floor before?  Then I remembered.  It resembled the floor of the coat-room entrance at the church where I grew up.  As is typical for me, the thought of the old church sent me down a rabbit trail of memories. 

Almost nine years had passed since I left the church where all my spiritual foundation was laid.  Even now I miss that church.  I knew it was right to leave when I did – much prayer and advice had led to that decision.  But even as I sat there in the chapel, I could see that beautiful big building where I learned about God.

I could see the altar where I know from Polaroid pictures and the stories of my parents, I was dedicated to the Lord almost twenty-eight years earlier.  The same altar where I knelt in junior high during my first participation in a church-wide altar service.  I remembered shifting from one leg to the other as they alternately fell asleep, and I remembered the shrugs and smiles I shared with the equally clueless foreign exchange student who had accompanied me to the front that day. 

I could see the grand piano hidden behind paneled walls where I played solos during my eleven years of piano lessons – and I could envision the choir loft and those baby blue robes that never zipped right.  I wore robe number four during my years of choral participation.  It was the shortest – mine by default. 

I could see the red padded pews – third pew, organ side was where our family sat every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Thursday night.  I could see the Sunday School classrooms and remembered the years of opening exercises when all the kids gathered in the big assembly room to learn “I Will Make You Fishers of Men” and memorize tiny verses from the Psalms.  

I remembered the nursery where I loved to work – and willingly offered to take any shift not wanted by any of the other workers on the rotation.  I could even see the library where I used to check out books to devour during the week.

Sorry, God, I said.  Guess I got busy thinking about the good old days.  I’m focusing now.  What is it You have for me?

God surprised me.  No, I meant for that to happen.  I want you to remember the place where you got your spiritual start.  Never forget that church.  Never forget the memories…the training…you received there.  The woman you need to be for the husband I’ve chosen for you…began in that church.  And just as you started your spiritual journey within the walls of that church, so you begin a new spiritual journey here, now.  This is a fresh start.  This is your cleansing. 

My attention was pulled away from the green slate tile – but I shook my head. Who knew that God could use tile as a lesson?  These prayer dates – these were going to be full of the unexpected.  I could feel it.