I didn't post last night because it was a long evening. Not long in the sense that it drug on, but it actually went some where. The last time I felt that weak after praying for someone they died. (Okay, not that funny, it was my Dad, but we ministered to each other and no one else in the room mattered)
We were praying for a woman who I didn't know and I just really felt strongly that there were 7 stones that were things that the enemy had tried to use to harden her heart and that these 7 stones were to become a type of altar for her to minister from and that it would be a cross cultural, cross gender, ministry of these things that seem unrelated, but somehow He would fit them together- anyway, I was hearing from God. But when it was over, I was so weak in my knees, I hadn't experienced this before. Not since m' Da, and that was like being a birthing coach. I felt as though I was birthing him into heaven, that was phenomanal. I came away from that with a joy that almost overwhelmed the sorrow of the occasion. (I am having the worst time with spelling tonight- not type-o's, but spelling.)
Then it was my turn to get a little. Whoa-boy. I'll be chewing on that for a bit. He's gonna have to teach me how to proclaim His word. I agree with it fine, I just don't really know how to reak through that membrane that is between me and it. Lord I believe, help my unbelief... Lord I receive, help my bent receivers.