Restored

Chapter 14 - The Overflow

Morning sunlight streamed softly through the window, painting her room in gold.
She had woken up early again, not because of an alarm, but because her heart was eager - eager to meet God in the stillness before the world began to stir.

The Bible lay open beside her, pages worn from nights of crying, praying, and rediscovering grace.
It had become more than just a book now. It was her diary, her comfort, her reminder that God had never stopped writing her story - even in the chapters she thought were too dark to read again.

Her devotion that morning came from Isaiah 61:3:

"To bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair."

She paused, reading it slowly, letting every word settle in her heart.
Beauty instead of ashes.
She smiled through quiet tears. That was her story. She had traded her ashes for beauty - her shame for grace.

After her prayer, she sat quietly, hands on her lap, whispering, "Use me, Lord. Even in small ways, use me."

⸻

Weeks passed, and everyone in the worship team began to notice the change.

She no longer came to practice tired and disconnected.
She came early - Bible in hand, smile on her face, ready to pray with whoever showed up.

The first few times, not many joined her. But she kept showing up anyway.
She'd sit on the edge of the stage and softly say, "Before we start, can we pray? Let's give this all to God."

At first, the others just watched. Then one by one, they started kneeling too.
Before long, prayer became a part of their routine - not something they rushed through, but something they waited for.

Even Samantha, the worship leader, noticed. One night after practice, she pulled her aside and said,
"I don't know what happened to you... but whatever it is, it's beautiful. You're glowing. You're peaceful. You've changed - in the best way."

She smiled, humbled. "It's not me, Ate. It's God. He's been restoring me."

Samantha nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Keep going. The team needs that fire."

⸻

Soon, her quiet devotion started spilling over into everything she did.

She began journaling after each service - what songs touched her, what verses spoke to her heart, how God moved in the congregation. She even started posting small reflections on social media - just a few lines about hope, forgiveness, and faith.

At first, she thought no one would read them. But then the messages started coming.

"Hey, your post really helped me."
"I've been struggling too, but your words reminded me that God still loves me."
"Thank you for sharing that verse. I cried while reading it."

She sat there one night, phone in hand, overwhelmed.
She never imagined her pain could help someone else heal.

God was using what once broke her to build others.

⸻

One Saturday afternoon, the youth ministry asked her to share a short message before worship.
Her heart raced when she heard the request. She wasn't used to speaking in front of people - singing, yes, but talking about her story? That felt scarier.

That night, she prayed long and hard.
"Lord, if You want me to speak, then speak through me. Let them hear You, not me."

When the day came, she stood on stage, trembling a little, holding the microphone with both hands.
The room was quiet. Faces turned toward her.

She took a deep breath.
"Good evening, everyone. I just want to share something small..."

Her voice was soft at first, but steady. She talked about her journey - not every detail, but enough for them to see how God had lifted her from guilt into grace.
She told them about that night of devotion, the verse from Malachi, and how she cried for hours until she felt peace again.

Then she looked up and said, "Maybe you're here tonight, and you feel far from God. Maybe you think you've failed too much. I just want you to know - you can always come home. He never left you. He's just waiting for you to open your heart again."

By the time she finished, the room was silent. Some were crying.
Samantha hugged her after and whispered, "You did exactly what God wanted."

She smiled through tears. "All glory to Him."

⸻

From that day, she found herself guiding others who were struggling too - young people from her church who came to her privately, asking how she overcame her guilt, how she learned to pray again, how she kept her faith.

She listened. She encouraged. She prayed with them.
And every time, she saw a little bit of her past self in their eyes - broken, tired, but still longing for God.

Her story became a bridge - between who she was and who she was becoming.

⸻

Months passed, and her faith grew deeper.
She led worship again - not because she wanted to prove herself, but because she genuinely loved leading others into God's presence.
Every time she stood on stage, she would close her eyes and whisper,

"Lord, this is for You. It's always been for You."

Her voice was different now - not just technically stronger, but spiritually fuller.
When she sang, people could feel it. It wasn't performance anymore. It was worship.

And sometimes, while singing, tears would fall mid-song - not out of sadness, but out of awe.
Because she knew exactly where God had brought her from.

⸻

One night after practice, she stayed behind in the empty church.
The lights were dim, the instruments silent, but she sat at the piano and began to play softly.
A simple melody filled the room - slow, tender, honest.

She started singing, not for anyone to hear, but for God.
Her voice cracked with emotion as she whispered,

"Thank You for finding me. Thank You for loving me. Thank You for never letting go."

And in that quiet space, she felt the same presence she had felt months ago - warm, gentle, real.
It was like God was saying, "See? This is what I meant when I said I'd restore you."

She closed her eyes, smiling through the tears.
Because this time, she wasn't just someone who had been forgiven - she was someone who had been transformed.

Her devotion had become her daily language with God.
Her worship had become her offering.
And her story - her once messy, painful, broken story - had become her testimony.

It was no longer just about being restored.
It was about overflowing - letting God's light pour from her life into others.

And she knew deep down,
this was only the beginning.