March is one of my favorite months.

It’s around this time we get our first signs of spring. Snow melting, birds chirping, snow melting again (if you live in late-blizzard North Dakota), and of course: pre-season baseball.

But for me March holds deep meaning. It was in this month 8-years ago that I said yes to Jesus for the first time. I was probably in the deepest pit of my life and made perhaps the most unfair trade in history: my pathetic life for His righteousness and Spirit. Here’s a copy of my rookie card:

(I’m a bit embarrassed to confess how long it took me to create that on google docs — PS rookie cards in Christianity aren’t actually a thing).

Last week someone asked me how I came to that point, the “I give up” moment in my life. It’s not the most polished answer, often we don’t realize something is happening until it actually happens.

But to be honest it was a million little things and two big things. The first was a professor. I was required to take his class for my major and unlike other classes I could not afford to get anything less than an A. I was on academic probation and one more slip up would send me back home. So I sat in the front row, left my laptop at home and took notes by hand. His course was Life & Teachings of Jesus and I was hoping it would be an easy class.

It wasn’t.

But it’s not that it was academically hard. This class was painful for my heart. I realized this figure, so central to the religion of my upbringing, was a complete stranger to me. I had always viewed Him as one-part disappointed and one-part fun vacuum. I wasn’t interested in sacrificing much, but I figured if I played by at least some of the rules I could squeak into heaven.

But as I read through the four gospels for my homework assignments I started to wonder how I had constructed such a false image. He didn’t come to enslave, but to liberate. And his liberation would lead to freedom of the soul, not cultural chaos. He had a plan to redeem the nations and anyone who was willing to surrender to His will. Jesus’ life set in motion a plan to bring light to all of this darkness and life to everything that was dead. This gospel could actually transform the worst of human beings, even me.

It occurred to me that I didn’t actually believe in Jesus at all. Sure I was a social activist, but I didn’t have any sort of direction other than the cultural breeze.

I realized that Jesus and I wanted the same thing: to see broken things restored. And for perhaps the first humble moment of my life, I realized that He had a better plan than I did. Though my pride was still coursing through my veins, I could actually admit His chances of getting us there were slightly better.

I mentioned earlier that there were two things that got me to this point of realization, and to me the second is of far more value than the first (no offense, Dr. Eddy).

What he was sharing with my brain collided with what the Holy Spirit was doing in my heart.

A lifetime of selfish decisions, insecurity, and fear had built up a fortress around my heart. The wall was impenetrable by anything less than God – not even a great professor or loving friend. Yet He moved on behalf of prayers of many faithful friends and created a small crack in my fence. For the first time these words of truth had a path into my heart.

The weight of my sin and my lifestyle became unbearable. My tried-and-true methods of happy chasing began to fail and I could finally see how empty I was. I knew I couldn’t last much longer in my current direction. This Man I was learning about promised there was more – and it was time for me to figure out what that was. I guess you could call March 29th, 2009 “Day One.”

In these last 8 years I’ve had ample opportunity to share my story(s) with all kinds of people. And more often than not I’ve seen people unmoved or uninterested. People walking in painful misery, yet unwilling to believe or hear my message of hope. It’s never been that easy.

Because though I can share the gospel – perhaps even compellingly, I cannot pry open a heart. That is not even on my “8th season” card.

I remember back in 2010 I met this tall girl named Abbie. She rarely smiled and often seemed withdrawn and tired. We met in July and that very night, God put her name in my heart and asked me to patiently pursue her in friendship. I agreed and prayed for her, hopeful of what she might discover in Christ. I thought for sure I had what it would take to bring her to Christ. It took but a few weeks to realize I was out my depth.

On the rare occasion that she would return my messages and agree to hang out with me, we could never get below the surface. Any time I’d try to ask her questions about her personal life she’d quickly clam up and change the subject. So I went to my knees in prayer every morning, praying for an opening. More months passed and our conversations deepened – not by much, but six words is better than zero.

Finally on the morning on October 29th, I got the text. There was a crack in the fence. I skipped my next class and drove over to her dorm, anxious to hear what was going on. She too, was fed up. She didn’t know how to get out of her lifestyle, but she was finally willing to open up about it. Her journey was messy and at times very dark, but I got a front row seat to the Holy Spirit’s liberation of her heart.

Today I don’t know if I know a more joyful person than Abbie – and if you know her, you’re probably nodding. That once sullen girl now lights up every room she walks into. My phone is full of encouragements from Abbie, mostly Bible passages.

But it wasn’t my words that led Abbie to Christ, it was the Holy Spirit drawing her in. It wasn’t until I started praying for her that any movement could be seen. Without God moving on her behalf I’d still be trying to share the gospel with her.

I say all these things because I’m reminded again how powerless we are without the Holy Spirit. Maybe we can create temporary change or even install knowledge in someone’s head but only the Holy Spirit can transform a heart eternally. Yes I am called to share the gospel – not just with “my life” but with actual words. But to go into battle without the Holy Spirit is like stepping onto a raging battlefield with no armor or weapon.

In this current season God has asked me to pursue another woman, one who openly lives in violent opposition to the gospel. She’s confessed to me on several occasions how miserable her life is but when I bring up Jesus she changes the subject. We’re stuck above the surface and I’m often frustrated that it’s so difficult. But I’m continually reminded that I do not possess the necessary strength or tool to crack open her heart.

I’m shifting my focus from hopeful conversation to radical prayer. My words are powerless unless the Spirit makes a way.

Lord, please make a way.

Who are you “stuck” with? Do you pray for them? Do you beg the Holy Spirit to do what you could never do alone? You should try it. And when it doesn’t work, don’t give up. Elijah prayed 7 times before the rain came and Joshua marched 14 times around that wall before it fell.