Imperfectly Brave ::: Immeasurably More

 

On the evening of the first ever Imperfectly Brave weekend, a woman of great faith texted me the verse, “Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more….” (Ephesians 3:20). I began praying it over the weekend. Immeasurably more. Immeasurably more. When I think of more, I think of a cup spilling over wetting the ground. It is unexpected. It is cause to stop and stare. It is joy manifest.

 

It is our promise. Immeasurably more.

 

Imperfectly Brave

Imperfectly Brave

 

It was so hard for women to get to the traditional, old(ish) church, because life has sneaked up on us and instead of becoming an adventure it’s become a to-do list. A trudge-through list. And who wants that kind of life? But they came. Women came piling through the door. All the women God intended to be there sank into pews tired and unsure. Life was coming at them hard. Did they make the right choice?

 

But revival, yes, revival comes in pews. A God of yesterday, today, and tomorrow breathes life into everything when we let Him — if we let Him.

 

I didn’t know that, yet. I just didn’t know.

 

We came to the waters on Friday night. We sat in our Maker’s hands and we were reminded what His fingertips felt like on our skin. We made way for Him all over again. And that big vat of water that always sits under a Potter, we just let Him pour it over us. And we sang to the highest heavens and it felt so full.

 

And then one of my dear friends came to me in the morning and she said, “Whitney, I wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to be here. My heart was somewhere else.” And then we hugged and she said, “But last night I met with God and (hug), I am good, full, satisfied.”

 

I didn’t know.

 

Imperfectly Brave

Imperfectly Brave

 

And my whole heart started remembering and understanding what a good God we serve. Because our God — He is such a personal God.

 

And then we sang our guts out to this Holy God of ours and I watched my friends give all their gifts away to the kingdom. I wept watching them serve their King. And they grew because serving the King is the greatest joy of all. And women received the words and walked into the presence of the Almighty.

 

All weekend, we talked about prayer groups and how they shaped and molded us. We talked about how awkward our group was at first, but that we knew we needed prayer and real relationships. We knew we needed to make time for it all. We listened to the women and their stories of how God is so personal and answered prayers and sent revival into our own souls.

 

I didn’t know this would be the door. I didn’t know women would crave this. But we saw women nodding along, asking questions about prayer groups. We began to understand that maybe we have all gotten a little dry and we needed to all walk toward the water together — praying.

 

I simply didn’t know. (I had a hunch, but I didn’t KNOW).

 

As the weekend moved along, women started talking and processing and walking through their faith and their fear. They analyzed their prayer lives. We talked about it. We wondered why, if we believe in an Almighty God, are our prayer lives so quiet? We wondered why, if we are in a battle, do we choose to fight alone? We wondered and we talked about it all and we all took a giant deep breath and our souls felt full.

 

What started as a clay pot, empty and broken, we began to fill with dirt and mustard seeds. We called women into prayer groups. One by one, they walked forward. One by one they got their hands dirty. One by one, they planted their mustard seed.

 

Now, we are planting seeds to watch God build a forest. He is the living water. Imagine what will grow from it. Imagine…

 

Immeasurably more.

 

I didn’t know then, but I know now.

 

Imperfectly Brave

Imperfectly Brave

 

You see, sweet sister, I want you and I to both know something. We won’t know exactly where He is leading us we just know that we have Him. We don’t have the map, we just have His voice today. We won’t walk across the entire lake in one day, but maybe we can take one step out of the boat on this day.

 

Imperfectly Brave is God’s and I want it to remain in His hands. He has been molding and shaping it. And let me just say, it feels un-American not to take control and figure this thing out on my own. I am trying my very best to keep my hands out of the mix because I know that is where the adventure lies – when it’s in God’s hands and not my own.

 

When God calls you out, we won’t ever know. We won’t ever know what immeasurably more feels or tastes like until we actually feel it and taste it. And want to know something? It is far better than anything this world has ever given me.

 

I didn’t know how good it all would be. But now I do know and I want you to know this:

 

Darling friend across this computer screen, your bravest place is in your Maker’s hands. Get there no matter the cost. Get your friends and rest there. Breathe deeply under the cross, dance in the empty tomb. And I will promise you this — once you get there it will all be immeasurably more.

 

If you were there, let us know. Leave your biggest takeaway in the comments below!

 

Imperfectly Brave

PS Grab this darling Imperfectly Brave printable.

My sweet friend, made this as a good reminder for us all!

 

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