ZionMagazine-Final

Radical
Jessica Sowards
One random day, what feels like an entire lifetime
ago, my husband and I prayed a prayer. We made
a declaration in complete ignorance to give God
everything we had. “Lord,” we said, “Help us be
radical for You. Help us to love You and follow You
the way You deserve to be loved and followed.”
I loved Him then, even though I didn’t entirely
know Him. We were in ministry, albeit in a very
Martha-in-the-kitchen type of way. We worked
for God every day. We were at church for every
service. Our life was ministry. However, we were
burning out. We were tired. Our marriage was
strained and our children overwhelmed us. We
knew there had to be a level of Jesus we were
missing.
We came home from a youth camp where my
husband was serving as a pastor. And there, sitting
on the edge of our bed, completely exhausted
in every sense of the word, we prayed that
prayer. Without even really knowing what we
were asking, without even really knowing the
difference between the working of Martha and
the worshipping of Mary, we asked Him to give us
more of Him.
He is so faithful. Even in my ignorance, He is
faithful to teach. Even in my fickle distraction, He
is faithful to woo me into a deeper revelation of
Him. Even in my unfaithfulness, He has shown
Himself immeasurably good.
It took a tornado. On a Sunday afternoon, as we
unpacked the U-Haul at the little farm I’d prayed
for my whole life, a tornado ripped through our
town and began the process that turned everything
we knew upside down. It’s a much longer story
than I have space to tell, but it is a story full of love
and lessons and reverence. It is a story of learning
to be still and know that He is God. It is a story of
learning I can trust Him and fear Him; believe Him
and hear Him. It is a messy story, with bumps and
bruises and so, so, so much grace.
That was over two years ago. As I write this, I am
sitting next to a window in a coffee shop. The rain
is pooling in dark puddles in the parking lot and,
as the sky darkens, my reflection is becoming
more and more distinguishable in the glass.
Sometimes I don’t recognize myself. The Lord,
in allowing me to know Him more deeply, has
healed me more completely than I ever imagined
possible. He has exposed the very darkest places
in me. He has shone His bright, bright light on the
places that felt unlovable and the places that felt
like I had to prove myself worthy. He has taught
me to freely receive the gifts He has for me.
He is so faithful.
Even in my ignorance,
He is faithful to teach.
Over the course of the last two years, He has
breathed His very Being into my lungs, and as
His voice spoke to my heart, the chains of false
identity fell like dead things to the ground. After
thirty years of trying on every identity I could find,
I have finally found the one that was tailor made
for me. While I may be the wife to a good man
and the mother to five sweet boys, and I may be
the girl with the little farm and the chickens in the
yard, and I may be a homeschooler, a writer and
a photographer, ultimately I am the bride to King
Jesus. Nothing else really matters.
I tell you all of this as an introduction of sorts,
because I have been given a commission from my
Bridegroom to ready His bride. I have promised to
share my story and my journey, and I have been
tasked with the job of empowering the Mary’s.
1