A Sending Prayer

falls

{For K+K, who have been the very hands and feet of Jesus to
C and I since day one. We love you more than these words could express.}

I knew in the pit of my stomach when you told us you wanted to have dinner that you had something you needed to say, and I tried to shake off the feeling that the news was going to be bad. And when you announced you were leaving five minutes into pizza, my heart plummeted.

The truth is, I have never been good at sending, as it has always felt like more of a goodbye and less of a see you later. But then, I’ve always been a worst case scenario thinker, so that shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone. And believe me when I say that I am something of a champion at grieving in these situations. As soon as your car pulled away, I was reduced to a puddle, repeating that I knew it, I just knew it, and I don’t want you to go.

There is nothing I love more than what God has created here, among our friends — our brothers and sisters who have grown to feel like just that. And all at once, last night around our dinner table, there was a moment where everything seemed to just stop. And I thought back to the hilarious first meeting, the Tuesday night when we were all seated in a circle in the foyer talking about perseverance, the car ride across town when we invited people to come to church, the time you filled up our gas tank, finally getting baptized, the softball games, the worship. Your friendship has changed me, grown me, made me so much better.

And now, you’ve been called away, called to take Christ into uncharted hearts in a new place. While it hurts to see you leave, I know (what feels like) our loss is great gain for the people God has placed in your path. And in the midst of grief and tears, a promise was recalled to my mind: He who begins the work will be faithful to complete it. He knows the plans he has for us.

As you go, there will be a deluge of emotion — an overflow of the tears and excitement that we are already beginning to feel as we anticipate your absence. Know this: even though my heart hurts to see you go, it beats for the vision God has given you, and I could not be more excited to see how your future unfolds. So I offer this prayer, the simplest and yet the most effective means I have to bless you as we prepare to send you on your next leg of the race.

When there is uncertainty, may you be rooted in and reminded of the promises of a faithful God.

When you feel as though you lack direction, may you remember that He goes before you.

When there is need, may you not grow anxious, but trust that the Lord will provide.

When you feel inadequate, may you be strengthened by the knowledge that you are fully equipped.

When you feel restless, may your soul find rest in the Lord.

May you continue to let your light shine brightly, as an example for all believers and as ambassadors for Christ.

May joy and peace and hope be ever overflowing as you trust Him with all of your heart,

and may you always find His grace to be sufficient.

In the name of Jesus, so be it.

  • Cherise C.

    Beautifully written, Erin, as always! I can really relate to the ache of saying goodbye. My hubby and I are in college ministry, and we do it A LOT. I cry every time, especially with the ones that imprint my heart with their love and sister-ness. It does help to see it as “sending” instead of just losing them.

  • Pingback: Half life. | a life like the lilies:()