Out of somewhere, a strange wind blows heavily upon you, lifting up strands of hair, letting them rise above your shoulders only to drop again in cascades around your neck.

Wait, are you thinking it is a refreshing wind? Oh, no. You’re mistaken. This one carries with it the stark staleness of desolate homeless men and women sitting on pavements with torn, wrinkled, rotten blankets and old socks.

See, you thought you’d be the least likely person to be found here, this despicable place of filth. No man should be here, not even them. However, here you are, holding up your right hand to cover your nostrils; walking in a zig-zag manner to avoid kicking them by any chance, seeing that they lie about like flea-infested dogs.

You try to block the stench, but there’s just no way. It forces itself on you like a harlot, begging you to take it in.

…ѕυ∂∂єηℓу, уσυ яємємвєя ωну уσυ’яє нєяє…

That night at the revival, wasn’t it you who came out lifting up your hands and wanting to be used? Yes, you came out crying, asking God, “What about me? I want to be Your vessel. Use me,” you pleaded. You didn’t know how or when you wanted to be “sent,” but you weren’t worried about it. The world was dying, and if you were living, of what use was life to you?

So you drop your hands, releasing your nose to allow the stench. You breathe in and out for the first time. At first you feel like fainting, but there’s an invisible hand on your back keeping you straight. A voice speaks, “You will not faint, or grow weary.”

In the light of this knowledge, you run to the first seemingly lifeless person, toss away his torn, wrinkled, rotten blanket. You take his hands in yours, even though they are stained with mucus and old chicken soup.

“I’m here to save you,” you whisper, in the midst of your crying.
“What?” He doesn’t seem to understand.
“I said, I’m here to save you, sir.”

You begin to pull him up. The pulling gets tougher and tougher, and at some point you just want to let go, but that invisible hand comes back again, and two become stronger than one. That’s it, the homeless man is up. You did it! You allow the tears to fall, but this time they are tears of joy.

So what if this is the filthiest of places?

✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤

Children of God, when you find yourself in filthy places and dark trenches, don’t be the first one to run away. Don’t be the first one to cry, there’s no need to. You were placed in the kingdom for such a time as this. So when it seems rough and you seem to be living the most difficult life, turn that difficulty into a miracle for someone else.

In case you forgot, let me remind you of who you are:

“You are the light of the world. A city that is set above a hill cannot be hidden.” (Matthew 5:14) | Hey, light exists in dark places.

“Then [Jesus] said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4:19) | His followers become fishers, and fishers go through seasons of turbulent waters searching for the biggest catch.

“And these signs will follow those who believe: in My Name they will cast out demons; they will speak with new tongues, they will take up serpents; and if they drink anything deadly, it will by no means hurt them; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover.” (Mark 16:17-18) | These people spoken about here will, at some point in their lives, be surrounded by demons and serpents which they would have to be courageous enough to cast out.

Question(s) for the Day: So what if you’re in the filthiest of places in your life right now? Is it at work, or school, or in the marketplaces of your world? Will you stay right there and be bold enough to do what you were called to do?

Article by Jaycee. She blogs at Light-A-Lamp.

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