My soul clings to the dust. Give me life according to Your word! When I told of my ways, You answered me. Teach me Your statutes! Make me understand the way of Your precepts, and I will meditate on Your wondrous works. My soul melts away for sorrow. Strengthen me according to Your word! Put false ways from me and graciously teach me Your law! I have chosen the way of faithfulness. I set Your rules before me. I cling to Your testimonies, O Lord. Let me not be put to shame! I will run in the way of Your commandments when you enlarge my heart! (Verses 25-32)
There was a girl in our dorm who was quirky, to say the least. Very skinny, stringy blond hair that hung in uneven curls about her face. Her walk was affected. Not a limp exactly, but she hobbled a little as if she were walking on her toes. Every day Penny did the same thing at exactly the same time. Brushed her teeth. Combed her hair. A little obsessive-compulsive. I was in my freshman year of college, unsure of my own self, wanting to make my mark in the world. My frail Baptist faith was being tested on every front and wasn't standing up too well. I had lots of questions about God...Jesus. I honestly thought I was the first person to ask, "What about the natives in Africa? Will they be saved if they've never heard?" All the seeker thoughts pounding in my head and heart. Unsure of who I was, Penny was anathema to me. Because? Because she loved me. Wanted to be around me. Wanted to walk across campus with me! To my utter shame, I admit I didn't want her beside me. Thought if people perceived her as my friend, they'd think less of me. So, I avoided her. I know. Dismally self-centered. And I was duly ashamed of how I felt.
The year progressed. I didn't much. But the fall semester of my sophomore year, a thing happened. I met Bill Farish, who was a new Christian involved with Campus Crusade for Christ. I also got serious about finding the answers to my spiritual questions. Spent hours in the university library finding extra-biblical references to Jesus. There are, by the way, many, many of them! In the process of going to Christian meetings with Bill and searching out my heart, I felt challenged to ask Jesus to take over my life. Unsteady at first. Didn't want religion again. I'd always loved God. Since I could remember. But He was obscured by all that denominational baggage of my childhood. If Jesus is real, there were a number of things I knew He needed from me. There was even more I needed from Him.
I found myself lying across my bed, alone in my dorm room, saying, "Jesus, if You do still live today, risen and empowering people to live, please come into me." I waited. Then added, "I will know You are real if I can love Penny." I knew my heart wasn't big enough for her. Had only been large enough for my own selfishness until then. I didn't have to wait long for the prayer request to be tested. But the atmosphere surrounding my heart had been charged. I knew it the moment I'd asked Him in. Understood I'd never be the same. The work of the Holy Spirit at the moment of our commitment to Jesus is to swoosh into us just as God rushed into the temple the day Solomon committed it to Him (2 Chronicles 7). I was indwelt. Tearful. Joyful. Content.
My mind had to contain what my spirit was experiencing. It was a dance that had to be coordinated, so as I walked across campus the next morning, I felt completely overtaken in thoughts of Jesus. Energized by the experience of the evening before. In wonder, really. And as I talked about it with the friend walking beside me, I wanted her to know Him, too. I loved this friend so much. Never noticed how blue her eyes were, or how animated her laugh. It was Penny, of course. My first answer to a heartfelt prayer. Loving Penny. Really loving her. Not just putting up with it. Embracing a friendship created by God. It wasn't until she walked one way to class and I walked the other that I was struck by the fact. Quick tears filled my eyes. Jesus does still change us.
In May of that year my grandmother died. I flew home on a Saturday and back to school on that Sunday because we were in the midst of final exams. Nothing was opened on Sundays in Texas back in the day, so I was surprised to see a huge bouquet of flowers in my room when I arrived late on Sunday night. They were from a local florist. Had a sympathy card attached, but no name was on it. I asked all my closest friends. Wanting to find who to thank. No one knew anything about the flowers. It wasn't until the next morning that I discovered the giver. Penny. She'd heard about my grandmother. Wanted me to know she loved me. Penny. The enlargement of my heart.
There was a girl in our dorm who was quirky, to say the least. Very skinny, stringy blond hair that hung in uneven curls about her face. Her walk was affected. Not a limp exactly, but she hobbled a little as if she were walking on her toes. Every day Penny did the same thing at exactly the same time. Brushed her teeth. Combed her hair. A little obsessive-compulsive. I was in my freshman year of college, unsure of my own self, wanting to make my mark in the world. My frail Baptist faith was being tested on every front and wasn't standing up too well. I had lots of questions about God...Jesus. I honestly thought I was the first person to ask, "What about the natives in Africa? Will they be saved if they've never heard?" All the seeker thoughts pounding in my head and heart. Unsure of who I was, Penny was anathema to me. Because? Because she loved me. Wanted to be around me. Wanted to walk across campus with me! To my utter shame, I admit I didn't want her beside me. Thought if people perceived her as my friend, they'd think less of me. So, I avoided her. I know. Dismally self-centered. And I was duly ashamed of how I felt.
The year progressed. I didn't much. But the fall semester of my sophomore year, a thing happened. I met Bill Farish, who was a new Christian involved with Campus Crusade for Christ. I also got serious about finding the answers to my spiritual questions. Spent hours in the university library finding extra-biblical references to Jesus. There are, by the way, many, many of them! In the process of going to Christian meetings with Bill and searching out my heart, I felt challenged to ask Jesus to take over my life. Unsteady at first. Didn't want religion again. I'd always loved God. Since I could remember. But He was obscured by all that denominational baggage of my childhood. If Jesus is real, there were a number of things I knew He needed from me. There was even more I needed from Him.
I found myself lying across my bed, alone in my dorm room, saying, "Jesus, if You do still live today, risen and empowering people to live, please come into me." I waited. Then added, "I will know You are real if I can love Penny." I knew my heart wasn't big enough for her. Had only been large enough for my own selfishness until then. I didn't have to wait long for the prayer request to be tested. But the atmosphere surrounding my heart had been charged. I knew it the moment I'd asked Him in. Understood I'd never be the same. The work of the Holy Spirit at the moment of our commitment to Jesus is to swoosh into us just as God rushed into the temple the day Solomon committed it to Him (2 Chronicles 7). I was indwelt. Tearful. Joyful. Content.
My mind had to contain what my spirit was experiencing. It was a dance that had to be coordinated, so as I walked across campus the next morning, I felt completely overtaken in thoughts of Jesus. Energized by the experience of the evening before. In wonder, really. And as I talked about it with the friend walking beside me, I wanted her to know Him, too. I loved this friend so much. Never noticed how blue her eyes were, or how animated her laugh. It was Penny, of course. My first answer to a heartfelt prayer. Loving Penny. Really loving her. Not just putting up with it. Embracing a friendship created by God. It wasn't until she walked one way to class and I walked the other that I was struck by the fact. Quick tears filled my eyes. Jesus does still change us.
In May of that year my grandmother died. I flew home on a Saturday and back to school on that Sunday because we were in the midst of final exams. Nothing was opened on Sundays in Texas back in the day, so I was surprised to see a huge bouquet of flowers in my room when I arrived late on Sunday night. They were from a local florist. Had a sympathy card attached, but no name was on it. I asked all my closest friends. Wanting to find who to thank. No one knew anything about the flowers. It wasn't until the next morning that I discovered the giver. Penny. She'd heard about my grandmother. Wanted me to know she loved me. Penny. The enlargement of my heart.
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