Last Saturday night, we went to an Awakening Concert at the Covelli Center in Youngstown. Our tickets were on my phone; and on the way, I checked to make sure I could find them. No problem.
Later, I suddenly realized my phone needed to be charged to be sure I could bring up the tickets. I plugged in our USB cable we always keep in the car. A number of miles later, I realized the phone wasn’t charging—as a matter-of-fact, it appeared to be dead!
As we pulled into the parking lot at Covelli, we plugged the cable into a different USB port, and again, it appeared to be charging. “We’ll have to sit in the parking lot until my phone is charged,” I told Donn.
A few minutes later, the phone stopped charging again, and by all indications appeared to be dead. We tried one USB port after another to no avail and began to wonder why the enemy was working so hard to keep us from attending this concert and did some spiritual warfare!
Finally, we gathered my IPhone and IPad (which only works with WiFi or the hot spot on my phone) and went to the Covelli Center in search of WiFi. By this time, the line to get into the Center was long.
When we finally arrived and went through the hoops necessary to get into the building, we told the ticket takers about our dilemma. They sent us to a ticket window to try to get “real” tickets. Eventually, we were successful and headed for our seats at starting time. An usher pointed us to our seats—or so we thought.
After we got settled, I looked at our tickets and told Donn, “I don’t think these are our seats!”
Fortunately, the usher was nearby. When I told her the problem, she said, “Oh, I just meant that’s where you should enter to get to your seats.”
We felt bad as a whole line of people stood up as we pushed past them to almost the other end of the row. I went first and ended up beside a woman who welcomed me just as the concert began.
During the concert, various musicians told us to make a statement or ask a question of the person beside us. Automatically, the woman next to me and I turned to each other and asked the question or made the statement. A feeling of comradery developed. After awhile the woman asked, “Are you enjoying the concert?”
I said, “Yes, but it’s been a busy weekend and I’m really tired.” I went on to tell her about the concert we’d been to the weekend before and she told me about one they were going to next weekend.
Then I said, “Phillips, Craig and Dean are coming to Meadville in November and we’re going to that concert.”
She responded, “They are one of my all-time favorite groups!”
“Me too,” I answered. “A few years ago, my husband wondered if they’d had any new albums lately. I looked online and discovered they had just put out a new album with the song You’re Still God.” I got a bit choked up as I added, “It was when our son was dying, and I’m convinced God gave them that song and one other one just for me.”
The woman, whose name I never discovered, expressed sympathy, and the concert continued.
At last Casting Crowns came on stage, and as always, I loved every song. Then to my dismay, Mark Hall began to sing No Scars in Heaven, a song that begins, If I had only known the last time would be the last time…, and always looses a flood of tears for me.
Tears began rolling down my cheeks as I tried not to sob out loud. The woman beside me turned and put her arm around me and pulled me close. I laid my head on her shoulder and tried to control my shuddering breaths as my tears continued to fall. When the song was finished, I sat up, wiped my eyes on the tissue she gave me, and thanked my new friend, saying, “I haven’t cried for a long time, but this song always gets to me.”
Just then Mark began the first verse of Praise you in the Storm.
I was sure by now, God, you would have reached down and wiped our tears away,
Stepped in and saved the day
My tears were falling again as the familiar words flowed over me.
And once again I say, “Amen” and it’s still rainin’
But as the thunder rolls, I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
My friend reached over and took my hand as she said, “God’s got you!” I nodded and the song continued…
And as your mercy falls I’ll raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
And I’ll praise you in this storm And I will lift my hands For you are who You are
No matter where I am And every tear I’ve cried You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn I will praise you in this storm…
*Songwriters: Berne Herms/Mark Hall
(As my new friend and her husband prepared to leave, I slipped a business card into her hand with my website printed on it, telling her that she would find there my blogs written during our son’s illness and death. She said she would look for them. Perhaps God is preparing her for something in her future.)
After we got home and I plugged in my phone, it charged perfectly, as it did the next day when I plugged it into the USB port in the car. We still don’t know why the enemy tried so hard to keep us from attending that concert and to keep us from sitting in our own seats, but I’m so thankful for the woman whom God had strategically placed to comfort me.
Even though we had never met, I wasn’t embarrassed by my tears and received her comfort as though she were a family member. I’m convinced more than ever of the bond that exists by those of us who are connected in the body of Christ. I Corinthians 12:26 says, “If one part {of the body] suffers, all the parts suffer with it…”
Because of Jesus, the woman seated next to me at the concert had a connection with me that allowed her to share in my sufferings and comfort me. How grateful I am that even though we couldn’t get the tickets we wanted for that concert (an aisle seat and the one next to it), God placed us and my new friend exactly where we needed to be.
Dear Jesus, thank you so much for orchestrating our situation so that the gift of your comfort could be given to me through the arms of a virtual stranger. Sisters, because of her relationship with you. Amen.