It all started in the prayer room.  This is a room at the conference, set aside for {yup, you guessed it} prayer.  This is such a neat idea, as the staff at P31 pray for all the attendees in the months and weeks before the conference.  I had been warned that you would not leave the prayer room without having experienced the presence of God powerfully.  I had secretly avoided the room, eyeing it suspiciously every time I walked past; completely ignoring the still small voice that beckoned me in.

Then this afternoon I was headed to a breakout session and the prayer room was almost straight across the hall.  I felt a pull in my soul like metal to a magnet.  I walked into the prayer room rather than my scheduled session.  As I put down my things, I did a quick scan of the other women in the room.  There were three or so women praying together in a corner and another young woman up front.  I set down my bags, trying to be as quiet and reverent as possible.  Little did I know that in less than a minute I would be bawling like a stuck pig sobbing, which is anything but quiet and reverent.

I made my way over to the tables in the front of the prayer room where every attendees name had been placed on a sheet of paper containing a name of God.  For example, my name was on the name ELOHIM meaning The Creator, The All Knowing, The All Powerful One.  Since I had expected wherever my name was to mean something personal to me, I felt a little knot of disappointment in my stomach because my name being on ELOHIM wasn’t doing anything for me. {Now before y’all go thinking I am being sacreligious, I had been expecting an epiphany and wasn’t having one.  I was disgruntled}

I continued around the tables, curious to see the other names of God (and where my name had NOT been placed).  That is when IT happened.  When The All Knowing, Creator of the Universe stepped on my toes.  God hurt my feelings. *gasp*

I saw that one of the sheets of paper had the name of God that means “the Healer”.  Instantly, I had a mental pity party.  Why wasn’t that where God had put my name?  Why hadn’t He had all these awesome women praying for me to be freed from this stupid disease?  I went back to the spot where my name rested and picked up the little slip of paper that said Melissa Smallwood.  I reasoned with myself that with 600 names, the ladies had obviously heard God wrong on this one.  My name didn’t belong on ELOHIM.  God needed to heal me.

I didn’t get but two steps away with that slip of paper in my hand when the tears started to fall.  And I mean torrential downpour fall.  The Spirit of God was on my heart like stink on a middle school boy.  I fell to my knees {thankfully the ladies at P31 know how to put on a conference and there was a cushy, kneel down and pray thingy right there or I probably never would have gotten back up} and knew in that moment that healing was not God’s will for me.

You see God (or ELOHIM), He is all knowing, all powerful.  He knew I came to this conference with a divided heart.  He knew that I am scared to death to be completely surrendered to His will for my life because He won’t reveal to me the detailed itinerary. He knew that I was not committed to the concept of “ministry”.  He knew that I would come in that room and need to be reminded that my physical comfort and fleshly desires are not what is important to Him.  His plan, His will- Him, not me is what is important.

A sweet woman named LuAnn (that is all I know about her, just what her nametag said) brought me over tissues as I was confessing all this {and more} in to my prayer journal.  As I wiped the tears and snot off my make-up streaked face, she lovingly looked at me and asked if she could pray with me.  She took my hand as I nodded and asked her to pray that I would just get {and stay} out of God’s way.

She prayed like God had given her a window into my soul, like she knew or had experienced the exact crossroads moment I was at at somepoint in her life.  And what she said resonated deep within me.  She prayed that God would give me the desire to run to Him. 

I immediately pictured my youngest son, Matt, running to me with outstretched arms last week at BWI airport- welcoming me home from a trip.  That is what God wants from me and for me.  Not to have to drag me, kicking and screaming and throwing a big girl tantrum every step of the way.  No, He wants me to run to Him with outstretched arms saying “Use me.  Show me the way.  Not my will but thine be done”.

I surrender all, Lord.  Reveal to me what Your all is everyday.  My arms are open.  Here I am…..