A few years ago, I remember arriving at church and sitting down in our row. We sit in the same spot every week. Familiarity is comfortable, and we often sit by the same people every week. But that week, there was a new couple that sat a few seats away from me. I remember the woman was young, probably my age, and I didn’t recognize them. It wasn’t unusual to see someone new, there’s new people every week. But as quickly as I recognized that I didn’t know them, I realized that God wanted me to bridge that gap. Four or five chairs separated us. But really, it was about more than just reaching across chairs to connect; it was reaching across my fear of connecting. I wondered who that woman was, if she was new. I wondered if she felt like me at all, connected and yet so incredibly disconnected from those around me.

I never said hi. We never really looked at each other for the hour we sat so close. I can’t remember her face now. I had a chance to fellowship. I had a chance to bridge a gap, to connect, to be friends with a woman I didn’t know, and I refused. I chose to sit in my seat, my comfortable, familiar place in the church. I convinced myself to be okay with it, but you know what? I think of her sometimes. I’m not okay with the glaring reality that I missed an opportunity to walk alongside another woman, if only for a few minutes, because the safety of my own world was where I wanted to be.

The power of Christ compels me. I wake up at 6:45 AM so that I can find my direction from God that day, because I don’t want to miss the chances He’s going to give me. I’ve messed up before, but I don’t want to put up blinders. It’s like He’s turning on neon signs when I think of that woman I never spoke to, and the signs say things like, Love your neighbors. Love them. Talk to them. Be a friend. Go. GO! Where I thought I would only be a introverted person, God has transformed. He compels me to change. He asks me to be bolder where I’m scared, and I’m waking up at 6:45 each day so that I can draw on His bravery. I’m brave because He was brave. Bold because He was bold. Sure because He directs me.

When the Lord rains down truth on me, I can’t help but shake my head. It happens when I listen to worship music, or when I’m writing and words feel like hammers and nails, building something that feels out of this world. A little over a month ago, He rained down a truth and vision that I longed to run from, but as I sought out His vision and His will, He easily and adequately placed each step before me. A path that seemed too dreamy to be real, He made it.

Next month, my friend and I are starting something. No, actually, the Lord is starting something. The chances I never took are catalysts for this moment.

We’re rallying women.

As I write this, I want to turn back and hide this a little. It feels so big and so not in my control, because God is making a way. Yesterday morning He told me, “I will lead you,” as I waited for the next step. This is it. The next step is sharing with all the women I know how God is working.

I’m looking back at the women following after me, and I don’t want to leave them in the dust because I have children, or because I’m just enough older that we don’t have much in common. I don’t want to ignore women behind, women who have gone before, or women who are sitting just a few chairs away from me, waiting to feel connected. I’m looking at these women, and just as surely as God has spoken in neon signs before, He is adamantly saying, Go. Make disciples. Rally these women.

Here’s what this looks like:

I want you to get connected. I want you to know your value in the church, and I want you to know your value on this earth. I don’t have all the answers, but I know a God who does, and I am always a work in progress. This is me stepping out in obedience, and as much as I am shaking my head while He rains down glory, I am also afraid of failing, looking silly, being told I’m too young to rally anyone. But if that’s all I have to risk–my dignity–I’ll do it, for His glory.

I don’t care if you go to my church, go to a church across town, or never go to church. I’m rallying you to come find freedom in Jesus’ name with other women who want the same.

Rally is happening November 7 in Fort Wayne, IN. I am so ready to join together as women and fellowship, shift mountains, have real talk, and be sisters together.

If you’d like more information, connect with us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/rallyministry/
Or email me! Comment here! Send me a text! I’ll be seeking you out, too, so don’t be afraid of bridging a gap. I’m right here with you, sister.

Let’s Rally.

Published by Janelle Delagrange

Wife to a graphic designer, mom to three young boys, and writer of the soul.

4 thoughts on “Rally

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