Conviction

I'm writing this down and putting it here so I don't forget it.

Every Sunday, I finish up steaming milk and pouring mochas in Noah's Cafe, and after grabbing my satchel from the wicker basket under the counter, I walk into the worship center of Mount Ararat midway though the singing, quietly accept a worship bulletin from the usher, and check my phone for my dad's text of where my family is sitting.

And every Sunday, as I listen to Todd Gaston unpack Scripture in new and amazing ways, I can't get certain people out of my mind.

I can't stop thinking: I wish _____ was here SO much. This is exactly what they're going through right now. I'm going to invite them to come with me sometime. They don't even realize how encouraging it is.

Every week this happens. And more often than not, the same people come to my mind every week.

And I'm not doing anything about it.

I'm sitting here, praying for them, and praying for God to bring someone else into their lives to build them up, and you know what? The uncomfortable truth might just be that He already did, and it's me.

If that's the case, why on earth am I still just sitting here?

So anyone who reads this: hold me accountable. Next time we talk, ask me what I've been doing to reach those people. Ask me if I've talked to them.

Because the things I'm hearing every Sunday are too good to keep all to myself.