About 7 years ago, I was in a rough patch with my walk with God. Everything had fallen apart in my life. I was down, and I was out. I remember being so mad, so angry at God. I have always been a giver, and now, I had damn near nothing to show for it.
It was a Thursday night, and I was driving by my old church. I decided to attend the service at the last second, literally almost crashing as I pulled across 3 lanes of traffic to get off on the exit.
I had a plan. I was going to sit all the way in the back and stew. I wasn’t going to praise or worship or give or nothing. I was going to protest silently.
If God wanted me, he was going to have to take me, then and there.
You can just guess the rest.
Every song the worship team played was “my favorite song,” almost as if I had personally put the list together.
The Pastor’s sermon? It was as if it was written personally, for me, from the Pastor’s desk.
By the end of that night, I was on my feet: worshiping, praising, 4 rows back from the podium.
That’s how God works sometimes.