God had spoken.
He’d brought to mind some words He wanted to share with the missionary in front of me.
He wanted to use my mouth to do it.
And I straight up didn’t want to repeat what He said.
It was one of our first days in Germany and we were praying over a missionary couple who’d spent their entire life building up leaders of leaders.
They came to us for prayer. And healing.
His back was injured, and she couldn’t left her right arm above her head.
It’d been that way for years.
If she needed to lift it, she’s use her other hand and grip her elbow. She’d push it up like a heavy lever.
I know about arm pain.
Been there. Done that.
Mine acted more like a repetitive motion injury, and He healed it one ordinary night over a year ago.
I knew He wanted to do the same for this woman.
But when He gave me a blessing to speak over her, I didn’t want to do it.
Been there. Done that too.
Seems He likes to give me words I don’t want to speak.
Usually when this happens it’s because the word is weird.
Something that doesn’t make any sense to me.
Something that just seems off the wall.
Something that’s uncomfortable, random, or inappropriate.
When this has happened before, I speak it out-loud and the recipient laughs like I’m the outsider on some inside joke she and Jesus have.
Or her eyes desperately ask me “How did you know that?!”
Or she smiles, nods, and tells me it resonates. There’s something happening that’s hidden from my view.
It’s fun to see her connect with the Father in that way.
But that wasn’t what happened this time.
It wasn’t a weird, random word I was supposed to speak over the missionary we met in Germany.
It wasn’t off-the-wall.
There was no risk of her looking at me like I’m some crazy woman.
And still I told Jesus I didn’t want to speak those words.
For exactly one reason: They’re the same words I always get.
Words about how she’s a daughter.
How she’s beloved.
How He’s proud of her.
That He knows what He’s doing.
The same words I always get.
The same words I write about.
Words I’ve built my life around.
Words that mean more to me than anyone else knows.
Words I hold tightly and selfishly didn’t want to share with this missionary.
Words she already knows.
“But are they not good ones? Are they not true?”
That’s what the Father asked me when I told Him I didn’t want to give those words again so He should give me something else.
So I spoke them over her.
I figured as I started, more unique words would come tumbling out of my mouth once I took the first step of obedience.
Sometimes you’ve got to open your mouth to enjoy the Living Water.
That wasn’t what happened that time.
There were no more words.
Sure, by the end of the day, her arm was healed and we celebrated that.
But I was disappointed.
I had boring words.
Being boring doesn’t make them any less true.
Giving the same word more than once doesn’t make it any less impactful.
Even if those are the only words I speak for the entire rest of my life: they are good ones.
They’re worth raising your arms in worship over.
They’re not just for that specific missionary woman in Germany and all the other lovely daughters I’ve gotten to speak them over.
They’re for you too.
My friend, you are His daughter. You are beloved.
The Father is proud of you. He knows what He’s doing.
Those words have never been more true than they are today.
And if I spend the rest of my life making sure everyone knows those words are true, my life will be well spent.
[specialbox]Know someone who needs to hear these words today? Pass it on to her. While you’re at it, ask God if there’s anything else she needs to hear. Then don’t be afraid to deliver those words too.[/specialbox]
What’s your favorite blessing to speak over people? Share it with me in the comments.