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Learn how to Meet God at Your Lowest Point

When I witnessed this woman’ h audition on American’ s Got Talent, I could feel it with millions of other people around the world — an unusual and holy  point was happening. And when Jane Marczewski, a graduate of Liberty University and a cancer warrior, stood under the falling awe  of the show’ s golden buzzer, we were all the ones that will felt like manna had fallen out of the skies for our own hungry hearts to learn the right way to honestly lament and taste the healing presence of God. We quietly reached out to Jane and asked if we could repost some of her words and phrases here, because we have been hungry to learn from a sage who has wandered through the darkest valleys and leaned close enough to The almighty that she now soars on wings of grace —   and she is honoured to talk about her brave, susceptible heart with you and I am undone by the reverberation of the Holy Spirit in every defeat of her thrumming heart — the ones you will hear in these unforgettable, haunting terms of Jane’ s i9000, as you to raise and rise with her:  

guest post by Anne Marczewski ( Nightbirde )

I don’t remember the majority of Autumn, because I lost my brain late in the summer as well as for a long time after that, I wasn’t in my entire body. I was a lightbulb buzzing somewhere far.

After the physician told me I was about to die, and after the man We married said he or she didn’t love me anymore, I chased a miracle in California and sixteen days later, I got it. The particular cancer was gone.

But when my brain caught up with it all, something pennyless. I later found out that all the tragedy at once had caused a physical head trauma, and my human brain was sending fake signals of excruciating pain and anxiety.

“ I have got cancer three times right now, and I have hardly passed thirty. Occasionally I wonder what I must have done to deserve such a tale. ”

I spent three months propped against the wall structure. On nights that I could not sleep, We laid in the bathtub like an insect, staring at my reflection within the shower knob. We vomited until I was hollow. I rolled up under my robe on the tile.

The bathroom floor became our place to hide, exactly where I could scream and become ugly; where I possibly could sob and spit and eventually doze off, happy to be asleep, even with my head in the toilet.

I have had malignancy three times now, and am have barely passed thirty. There are times when I actually wonder what I must have done to deserve such a story.

We fear sometimes that when I die plus meet with God, that He will say I disappointed Him, or even offended Him, or failed Him. Maybe He’ll say I simply never learned the particular lesson, or which i wasn’t grateful sufficient.

Yet one thing I know without a doubt is this: He can never declare He did not know me.  

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“ Call me sour if you want to—that’s reasonable. Count me among the angry, the cynical, the offended, the hardened. But rely me also one of the friends of Our god. ”

I am God’s downstairs neighbor, banging in the ceiling with a broomstick. I show up on His door every day.

Sometimes with songs, occasionally with curses.

Sometimes i’m sorry, gifts, questions, demands.

Occasionally I use my important under the mat in order to let myself in. Other times, I sulk outside until This individual opens the door in my experience Himself.  

I have called Him a cheat and a liar, and I meant it.

I have told Him I wanted to expire, and I meant it.

Holes have become the only plea I know. Prayers move over my nostrils and drip straight down my forearms. These people fall to the terrain as I reach for Your pet. These are the praying I repeat night and day; sunrise, sunset.

Call me personally bitter if you want to—that’s fair. Count me among the angry, the cynical, the upset, the hardened. But count number me also among the friends of Our god.

“ It’s not the mercy that I requested, but it is mercy nonetheless. And am learn a new plea: thank you so much. It’s a prayer Really dont mean yet, but will repeat till I do. ”

Regarding I have seen Him in rare type. I have felt Their exhale, laid in the shadow, squinted to learn the message He or she wrote for me in the grout: “I’m sad as well. ” 

If evidence would help, He’d write me one—I know it. But maybe evidence would only begin an argument between us—and I don’t want to claim with God. I wish to lay in a hammock with Him plus trace the blood vessels in His arms.

I remind me personally that I’m praying to the God which let the Israelites stay lost for decades. They will begged to arrive within the Promised Land, but instead He let them stroll, responding to prayers they didn’t pray. For forty many years, their shoes did not wear out. Fire lit their path each night. Every morning, This individual sent them mercy-bread from heaven.  

I look hard for the solutions to the prayers which i didn’t pray. I look for the mercy-bread that He promised in order to bake fresh for me personally each morning. The Israelites called it manna , which means “what is it? ” 

That’s the same issue I’m asking—again, plus again. There’s mercy here somewhere— but what is it? What is it? What is it?

I see whim in the dusty sunlight that outlines the trees, in my mums crooked hands, in the blanket my friend left for me, in the harmony of the wind chimes.

“ Call me personally cursed, call me lost, call me personally scorned. But that’s not all. Call me personally chosen, blessed, sought-after. Call me the one who God whispers His secrets to. ”

It’s not the mercy that I asked for, but it will be mercy nonetheless.

And am learn a new prayer: many thanks. It is a prayer Really dont mean yet, but will certainly repeat until I actually do.

Call me cursed, call me lost, call me scorned. But that’s not all. Call me chosen, blessed, sought-after. Contact me the one who seem to God whispers Their secrets to. I am the one in whose belly is full of loaves of mercy that were hidden for me.

Also on days when I’m not so sick and tired, sometimes I go lay on the yoga exercise mat in the afternoon gentle to listen for Him.

I know it sounds crazy, and I can not really explain it, but God is within there—even now.

I have noticed it said that some people can’t see Lord because they won’t seem low enough, plus it’s true. Look decrease.

God is over the bathroom floor.

The world has watched Jane’ s exquisite audition, but it will be worth the glory of sitting with again and feeling your own heart explode all over again:  

And only Our god could write this tale: Jane’ s audition song, “ It’ s Okay” upon America’ s Got Talent was  #1 on iTunes this particular week…   Marinating in her phrases over here and here is like an elixir that will help you take wing… and give words to your own sacred story that is meeting God correct where your feet are usually right now.