Send Revival

I thought I might start this entry with an apt piece of scripture. Instead, I am going to testify in my own voice. Not only that, I am not going to account for my absence from blogging. I may not even be able to highlight every relationship: all the connections God had been making suddenly lit-up like Christmas lights. Let the dance begin...

It may have started with some prophetic words from my therapist last Friday. I told Dr. Lennox Forrest that I wanted to get out of my own head—that I needed other people to pray for and care about. Lennox smiled and gave a gentle nod. "Messiah," he said "will no doubt send people into your life to care about if you ask." Someday, I should regale you readers of my mental/spiritual health journey—of Pastor Joyce, Dr. Forrest and a guy named Jerry who I've seen just once (oh, and Charlie Farnum—which is worth a grin for those who know him). It suffices to say, Lennox is not like many therapists... and it almost scared me away a few months ago...

Of course, I knew there were going to be SOME new people in my life: I joined Grand Rapids Christian Connect on Facebook. I met James, Mike, Sarah, Ruth, Leah and many others this past Saturday during an extensive evening. We ate at the twisted chicken and then went and hung-out. I almost did not go—thinking my time might be better spent working on my résumé (which remains unfinished and far from reaching a distant coast). Socializing was not a bad choice, for me. However, that was not what Lennox meant.

He probably meant some strange person who offered to have my children if I made her a taco... or something like that... I might have to gloss over that business for now since I have important testimony to get to... (Frank: One would hope you return to that story! Sheesh!)

It was definitely under-way by Sunday morning, but it did not exactly feel that way at first. We (Plainfield United Methodist, just to refresh your memories) had our outdoor worship at Huff park. A few months ago, I eyed that date with eager anticipation, imagining the sound of trumpet echoing through nearby swamps. Instead, I had a bad-embouchure week and failed to practice for the service. I showed-up and decided to exercise a different gift: helps. I carried equipment, caught the Pastor's notes when the wind blew them off the stand and... led the singing. Later, Jen mentioned that she might like us to sing harmony some time and, for the first time, I realized that my singing was not just a substitute for playing. Yet, like I said to Joyce before the service "I suppose this is a chance for God to show me I'm made of more than music..." Make no mistakes, though: I am built to Worship. That's no boast... it just is...

After our picnic, I called-out the Bingo numbers. Everyone playing bingo had a wonderful time and I was able to put-away my idol: the clock. I let the time pass and enjoyed the weather. Long after we had left the park, I realized that I had forgotten something important: my bag with the Bible and harmonica in it. 1) I seem to have misplaced my other Bible, as well—no Good book 2) the harmonica was my grandfather's. He passed away this April.

Tuesday, I finally hit the end of my rope. Tired from late-night discussions, numbed by the ambiguities of my job, I made my daily pilgrimage to river-side park and started to play. Even after a thorough-cleaning, my trumpeting still lacked the clarity I desired. The fuzziness was all in me. I tried to push through it to the other side~ and in small ways I felt myself succeeding. In the end, I knew what I thirsted for: BIBLE. Not in the sense that I should read my Bible (because by that time I knew it was in the church office, ready for me) but in the sense that I truly desired to connect with God via scripture. I also knew I was being an ass: I felt a pull toward the Christian bookstore to buy a new Bible but I was letting the money and the time it takes to make a trip prevent me from going. I also hadn't had a devo in a few days.

This is the part where it starts to become obvious. Now, I do not mean to sum up my entire belief system in this entry—or even imply that it is a static set of beliefs. However, I should mention that I think God is present in all things and at all times – I call it the metanatural and I believe it moves at faster than the speed of light. To me, the supernatural is when the metanatural moves in ways that defy normal and reveal truth in the natural universe. I don't believe that supernatural and natural differ in their origins at all—only in their purpose: the steady and regular versus the sanctified and ceremonial. Something unexpectedly Holy happened after I brought home my new New Living Translation. First of all... it's a cute little blue Bible! I love it! But seriously... I opened up my devotion and the suggested scripture was Corinthians 13 (Paul's take on love). That got my attention: "By God's will (I believe, putting skepticism away), the first verse I read in my new Bible is about Love." It reminded me of my first week as a Kinawind counselor, which is another long story.

Yet, God's sense of humor does not stop there. I felt compelled to do two devos. The scripture for the second one was Proverbs 16. Ringing any bells? Check out my facebook profile—it's the first quotation on my wall (and will remain so forever, now...). "Wow... double-play..." It was then that I started to feel a profound peace. I had been so quick to pick-up the Bible that I did not even bother to look at its theme. God had: a 'living water' Bible. I was thirsty, remember? God was faithful. Apparently, God idiot-proofed my trip to the bookstore... more on my cool new Bible at another time.

...meanwhile, the plot thickens with taco-girl... what is going on?!?! *clears throat*

However, August 18th 2010 seems to be have been a consecrated day from inception. Again, I want to stress who I have been. I have a gift of wisdom and knowledge, the sharp-edge of which is analysis and even skepticism. To be impressed with these phenomena, I have to be caught with my guard down—I am not proud of this. This morning, I was completely taken from the moment I awakened. You see, almost every morning I have awakened in this apartment since that first drab November day has been a chore. I will raise you another sad fact: the preceding two mornings, I do not even recall shutting off my alarm and returning to bed. I know that I set the alarm but my sub-conscious learned to diffuse it without bringing me fully to consciousness. When I reached full consciousness today...

...I was dancing to "Go Go Go" by the Orange County Supertones, reminiscent of my days as a fifteen year-old. I mean, I was up and going and making my bed for the first time in a month just jamming to the music. I wondered how I could shut that music off every single morning. I knew right then that this day was going to be miraculous. You see, I also have the gift of miracles... it's really hard to use with the gift of Wisdom because I'm skeptical. When I had begun to eat, I remembered that tonight was going to be the first Grand Rapids Christian Connect Worship Night. "Okay, God... you are definitely cross-referencing: I am made to worship. Let's go..."

Work was a little less blah. I was able to be thankful for my perks, rather than feeling guilty about them. Who would not be thankful for the gift of Christian McBride, Branford Marsalis and others over Pandora radio? I did some laminating and was content to be working with my hands more than with my mind. Even better, I got to joke-around with officer Bob:
Bob:"Who was that blonde from yesterday?"
Me: *hesistates and thinks of taco girl, then remembers* "Oh! She's going to be the new intern. We interviewed her yesterday and she did well."
"Alright! Yeah...woo!"
"Woo! You crack me up, Bob..."

Where was I?

...3 mile road was closed for repairs. I had to double-back on highway 96. My idol came-out to haunt me as I lamented the wasted time and motion. Then, God came to say hello—sitting on a sign-post for Leonard street.
"Hi, God... good to see you. I guess this means I am exactly where I am supposed to be."
For those of you who do not know, God likes to visit me in the form of hawks (if I had a 'Spirit Animal', it would be a bird of prey). I know, in my mind, that red-tail hawks frequent highways as a source of carrion. Yet, they time themselves so well that I cannot help but believe that they are driven there by that metanatural Hand. I attached a cheesy lesson to it: "I guess this was a God-ordained detour—if only this entire Grand Rapids trip could be so blessed. If only my NEXT adventure were so blessed. Where am I going?" –but I wrestled free from that reverie.

Sunshine church has a big sanctuary, set into the ground like a theater. You enter at the top and descend toward a stage. The band was already setting-up and I did not dare talk to them. Instead, I found a familiar face and said hello before entering into some light prayer. After ten minutes, I caught myself glancing at my watch, noticing it was past time. About that time, I made eye-contact with a man. I thought something might have passed between but, as I am learning, discernment is not my gift. I saw that his name was Jeremy, so when he introduced himself I wondered if he was the same Jeremy that conducted the worship band and if James had said something about my desire to play. No. He was another Jeremy—and confessed plainly that he had been blessed with the gift of prophesy and had seen this kind of worship coming in a dream. The statement struck me as odd, but my own miraculous morning caused me to reign in my skepticism. For the first time in my in-real-time life, I accepted that someone else might have a perceptive ability that I simply would never have. Academically, I never denied it. Yet in the moment, I had to accept and appreciate that what this guy told me was not a delusion. FAITH.

Unsurprisingly, I accepted the invitation to come forward and worship close to the stage. Without my trumpet, I decided to let my voice do what my trumpet might. Good news and bad news: The style of worship was perfect for improvising and experimenting in exactly the style that I am most gifted in—but my voice is untrained and so I had to get-over being on-key. Yet, I was impressed with how I was able to get over that (probably with Help). I figured "I need to express freely with my voice while I have the chance—" –and it felt right. I asked God over and over again "Let me be part of this worship!" while thinking all the while "I am so selfish... I love to entertain... am I doing this for the wrong reasons?"

But my big challenge was to come while Mike and James were speaking, not while we were singing. I sang my heart-out and was SURE that I wanted to continue coming AND be part of worship. So certain. Then, Mike got up to speak and opened his mouth...

I am not going to take apart the sermon. To summarize, I found it redundant and awkward in places... while simultaneously I saw the truth in it. In other words, I sat and stewed in cognitive dissonance for the duration of his sermon while I listened to him tell us how we could call ourselves righteous. Mike is kind of... well... a bragger; I found some things he said to be prideful—which reminded me of something I heard CS Lewis said about those with terrible pride finding pride so easily in others. Still, God uses all kinds. Obviously, the entire sermon set ushered in a period of spiritual warfare for me—especially the part where he admonished us to listen to the people who God has sent and not be critical. Criticism is practically my gift—there has to be accountability. Yet, simultaneously, he was telling me things I NEEDED to hear—about love, faith, forgiveness. My inner-opposition baffled me, though I should not be so surprised that I felt it. The same thing happened when James got up to speak: my idol started pestering me. I wanted to leave and come back to my safe bubble (talk to taco girl, whatever...). When they asked for money, I was fully in the enemies grip. I waved-off the offering bucket, slouched in my chair, waiting for the worship team to resume. James spoke about purpose and gifts and... things that I knew were relevant. At the same time, my own pride was raging. I was trying to think of reasons why I should not sit there and listen to a couple of guys who had never even been fully through seminary speak. I knew I was getting what I needed. I had to shove my watch in my pocket just to stand it. At the end, the guys apologized and reassured us that they had not meant for it to go so long. My ambivalence reached its height as they called forward their prayer-team. 'Oh, a prayer-team...' I thought 'well, isn't that special—'.

We were actually dismissed at this point. I could have walked-out then. I could have not come at all, really, and spent time writing stuff to impress... people. The World around me. Then, a seed that Charlie helped plant came to bud. I have been reading a book about spiritual gifts and gift-areas. When I took the assessment at the beginning of the book, it indicated that I was strong in knowledge (very strong), somewhat weak in Spirit power (disappointing, because that's the cool part), and pretty dismal in commitment. I blamed my lack of commitment on the paucity of suitable opportunities to be committed to. "I could just keep playing for Plainfield UMC and not be here for so long on Wednesdays..." I said to myself, ignoring the power I had felt in worship.

Then, I made a conscious decision to go against my nature. I decided that I was going to be prayed over, even though I had been prayed-over in church services before—usually with pleasant but somewhat ambiguous results. Yet, I decided that my musical/skeptical ASS was going to stick with these Wednesday services for at least a while and learn what there was to learn. In an uncharacteristic spurt of discipline, I recognized that I was being ridiculous.

I bypassed Mike and James and introduced myself to another member of the prayer team. His name was Elijah. ... ...let that ruminate, those of you with some Bible knowledge:
"Hi, I'm Elijah..."
"Hi, I'm John..."
"...the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: prepare ye the way for the Lord!"
"'...but Elijah has already come and they would not listen to him'. He was referring to John the Baptist."
---I didn't think about any of this—that's part of the miracle, naturally. My reaction was to shake his hand and give him a hug. I am a touchy-feely guy and apparently so was Elijah. I told him I was going to be looking for a new job soon and that I wanted to bring the Lord deeper into my heart. He put his hand on my shoulder and I put my hand on his and he started to pray for me. *tears filling John's eyes*

Oh yes. How do I even begin?... because this prayer is the entire reason for the whole entry.

Let's toss-out the elephant in the room: it feels nice to be embraced by another human-being these days. It's not a sexual thing at all—I felt warm just because I was sharing a bond of trust and compassion with a brother in Christ. His exact words, in their entirety, escape me—

I remember getting the sense that I should let my own hand drop to my side. It was like a vibe I was getting and I just went with it. *brief reminder tingle* The prayer started generic, speaking to the issues I had raised. That was as I expected—but I let my expectations start to slip away. *another reminder tingle*. A crescendo began. At first he asked God to reassure me that I did have gifts and that I was called *stronger reminder tingle—I swear, these didn't start until I began to write about THIS*. Then he said something about a 'new revelation—I caught the muted pun on my name (John wrote Revelation, according to tradition) but I just 'knew' that it was beyond the point. *more tingles* The lovely tingle of the Spirit started to come over me, first emanating from the point where Elijah's hand touched John's shoulder. The prayers got really specific and really apt quickly. Out of the blue, he started praying healing on my family—for broken relationships and illness (I'll take divorce and cancer for 1000, Alex). The tingling was spreading and I knew it was the Holy Spirit at work (plus, it feels Divine—in the gooooood way, like a massage), reassuring me. My skeptic side might have discarded his words as freak coincidence but my BODY would not deny that the real, Living, Holy Ghost was *tingle* choosing that moment as sanctified. After almost walking-away, all of my slouching, etc the Spirit was upon me. He also mentioned something about the importance of names, and made allusions to John the Baptist and John the Apostle. I bought it—the flipping Spirit of God was all over me at that point. It got better, too...

...there was a prophesy. Elijah said that I just needed to be faithful in the small things. *tingle* He told me if I was faithful in the small things, God would show me a big-thing (which is scriptural, as well). Elijah said that God would "blow my mind...". All of which was still carrying the possibility of doubt. Are you ready, readers? You know my weaknesses: my own intellect. Both Mike and James had alluded to our sub-conscious traps—my skeptical heart was in evidence. This is the good part:

Instinctively, Elijah moved his hand off of my shoulder and onto my head. That was when all doubt was erased. He started to pray about my doubts and skepticism—prayed for my sub-conscious mind to be healed. The exact words escape me because I cannot get past (and am still tingling on account of) the feeling of the Holy Spirit surging up my spine and literally touching my brain. The experience of joy during worship—that could have been emotional contagion. The tingling in my shoulder? Contact from another. But the sparks in my brain, the uncanny perceptions of my prayer partner, the prophesy about taking care of small things... that was a God thing. I had come believing in a God thing, doubted when the service seemed to long, and then found God again. I could have walked-out. Instead, I allowed that feeling to wash over me... to accept that everything that had happened this evening was just as God intended from Hawk to hand-on-shoulder.

The prayer ended and I finally noticed who I was talking to: Elijah. And I was John... the real John. Just as important as my namesake, too:
Jesus: "Even the least in the Kingdom of God is more honored than John the Baptist". That's me... rotten little skeptic... looking at his watch, can't spare a nickel for GRCC. Honored.
I said to Elijah "That was real! Hey, we're Elijah and John!" Then I gave him a very tight hug and said a very short prayer over him. "God, thank you for speaking through Elijah tonight."

I left the building, still blazing with the Spirit's touch.

Well, what do you think happened then? Do you think I ran out to my car and pulled a trumpet from the trunk, then ran back to the sanctuary to play?

YES! OF COURSE! I WOULDN'T GO TO WORSHIP WITHOUT MY BABIES!!!

Oh holy crap yes! I snuck in, though, and stalked up to a dimly lit corner. I pressed my precious sugar to my brow and began to pray. "ohpleaseGodletthisbeordainedbecauseireallywanttoplay
andnotbeselfishortryingtoglorifymyselfijustfeelthisgiftsostronglyandiwantto..." etc.
Then, at some point, I started adding to the music—still in my half-fetal prayer position. I gradually swelled into the music. *details details* One thing is for sure: I did not worry about impressing people or showing technical prowess. I just expressed and played to God, like DB had always told me to...

Several times, I wondered if that worship band EVER stopped. Finally, there was a smooth transition from band to pre-recorded music. I talked with the director and he said, literally:

"Oh yeah, you gotta let that thing out... look on the church website and e-mail me."

I'm in.