Epiphany Stories: Lucinda Gonzalez & Dylan Martin (Greensboro Fellows)

Lucinda

In February of last year, COVID-19 was just beginning in the U.S. My college (Montreat College) had made no decisions regarding the continuation of the semester at that point. My mind was on my post-graduate plans; because my major’s concentration was Cross-Cultural Studies, I had to complete a 2-month overseas internship to finish my degree. I had received an invitation to a site in Belgium to study Church Planting, Evangelism, and Refugee Outreach ministry through a mission sending agency. My plans were set, I had everything under control. Then March hit with a global pandemic. My plans were ruined; I wouldn’t be able to graduate on time (possibly an entire year late), there would be no end of the year goodbyes to friends and admired professors or mentors. Instead, I was stuck in a dorm alone, unaware of when I would have to move out and wondering about the risk of moving back to my parents. The stress planted seeds of anger, confusion, and anxiety that would blossom into a spiritual drought.  

Coincidentally, miraculously, I had met Dodd Drake (director of the Greensboro Fellows Program) and applied to the program towards the end of February. At the time it seemed like a good idea to have plans secured after my overseas internship. Again, I had comfort in the control of my future. However, because of the pandemic my school had mercy and counted some extra psychology courses as my internship. So, I graduated on time and began my fundraising for the Fellows. But I continued to feel the weight of distance from God. It began with the frustration of losing control over my plans but then it turned into an overall lack of desire to be in

Scripture or prayer. Whenever I bowed my head to pray, the empty silence I felt from the Lord was saddening. 

The Fellows Program provided a community that kept me in prayer and Scripture anyways. I hadn’t opened up about the drought I was in, but I was encouraged by their faith to make time for God every morning and evening. I understood He was there, but my soul still felt not an absence, but a silence. 

Weeks turned into months and the time came for the annual Fellows’ Life Map Retreat at Ocean Isle beach. Each fellow would share how God had molded them through significant moments and relationships. On the day of my turn, Dodd and Becky sent us out to sit by the ocean and drink in the beauty of God’s creation—to spend time in the love of our Father. Once we came back inside there was time to discuss our experience. All I intended to say was, “The water was beautiful, and it was nice to watch the waves,” but what came out was the confession of the drought I had been experiencing for the past 11 months. Tears ran down my face and three other fellows came to wrap their arms around me in prayer. They stroked my back and told me how important my tears were. That my drought wasn’t my weight to carry and I was exactly where the Lord wanted me. 

In that tender moment I felt the faithfulness of God. As I opened up about my struggles in the arms of friends, the Holy Spirit moved, God said, “It’s over,” and a tenderly gentle peace settled in my soul. Somehow in the stress of the pandemic I had forgotten that to know and love Jesus was to not only know and love others, but to also let others know and love me. God is faithful through His body of believers. He simultaneously works through us and in us. Though community has been hard to achieve with the tragedies of COVID-19, there is no obstacle that can separate us from the love of God. He is our beloved and we are His.  

. . . . . . .

Dylan

I want to start this off by saying that I am no wordsmith, but then again, I don’t need to be. The testimony of what Jesus has done in my life, and in your life, speaks for itself.

For me, 2020 was a year of Jesus more so revealing his grace and faithfulness to me. His grace was there the whole time, but this year (because of grace, lol) I have seen more clearly the ways in which the Father has given me things in my life that I do not deserve. It almost screams at me. It’s as if I went from basic cable to HD on how much clearer I can see the Father’s workings in my life and how small I am. I must back track, though.

In this seemingly “HD vision” of God’s grace that I am speaking of, I have also come to realize that I don’t know anything. And even more so, I can do nothing meaningful apart from Jesus and his wonderful grace. I have not figured out much about life. Something that God has given me revelation on in 2020 is how much I need Jesus. The grasp of my drastic need has grown as I have come to understand the capacity that I have to do evil. My sin nature is real. I can do terrible things, hurt people and betray the love that Jesus shows me on the cross.

I used to truly think that I was the exception to doing really bad things, like I had an anointing or some sort of hack figured out. But in reality, my need for Jesus’ grace is so deep and so real that I don’t want to imagine a life without Him. How awesome is it that this sin that can ruin my life is overcome by the blood of Jesus? 2020 has made me see that darkness and sin can seem like the giant in the fight, but Jesus says that isn’t the case. The blood of Jesus defeated sin! I know that this is elementary stuff that I am saying, but I can’t exaggerate how much more real this fact that we all know has become more so real and centered in my life. Jesus took away sin and gave me life. And in that, The Father gives us the ability to take ownership of this life that he has given us through Jesus. In taking ownership for what God has given me, I can then give thanks and give back to him this life that is rightfully his in the first place. But I cannot give up to The Father something that I have not claimed.

So, my testimony for 2020 is that Jesus has shown me his gospel. And I alone am not smart enough, strong enough, good enough, etc., etc., etc. (this could be an exhaustive list) to claim this gospel, but Jesus told me that I can. So, from here forward, that is all I want to do.