A new kind of normal began to arise in me in the late 90’s. 1995 was one of the hardest years of my life. The year began with the first church I had founded splitting in half. One group was catching some vision and felt they needed to move on. I was left with a lot of traditional and negative people. Although there were some visionaries still left, the traditional thought had gained power. My dad passed away in the middle of the year. In the same week, my son had an accident while riding a horse. An almost overpowering mental pressure and burnout had hit me by the end of the year. It didn’t get any better the following year as I basically went through the motions of ministry. I was thirty-nine and about to be a “has been” in ministry. I cried out to God for release from ministry in my community in which I was born. I was willing for Him to move me to Africa or anywhere else in the world.
I attended a Promise Keepers meeting in the summer of 1997 and felt very encouraged. It renewed vision in me for our nation and our region. Upon returning from the conference, I was enthusiastic. Soon a desire to minister in the cities began to birth in my heart. I had always had a passion for country church ministry and loved living in the rural areas. Now I wanted to move to the city so badly I could taste it. There was a definite shift going on inside of me.
In the spring of 1998 I traveled to Dallas, Texas to a “Light the Nations” conference. I had never attended a conference like this before. On the way to the airport I was literally beating my chest in agony over my life. It was my 20th wedding anniversary, but I had been divorced for 10 years. I was unhappy with the church. The ministry there was still a struggle for me. I was definitely burnt out. My son would be graduating from High School at the end of the month. Wasn’t I ready for a new season or was I about to die in this one?
Upon reaching Dallas, I roomed by myself. I only knew one person there and he was a pastor from my home-town. I seem to always do well in situations where everyone is new to me. However, the first day was kind of hard as I struggled to make adjustments to very passionate people and meetings. There were people acting totally free as they groaned and bent double as if someone had given them a belly punch. Sometimes people would laugh almost as if they were drunk. Everyone seemed happy though. That counted for something when you were as miserable with ministry and life as I was.
The next day I went forward for prayer with hundreds of others. Several ministers were there from the Argentine Revival that had shaken that nation for about fourteen years. They were the main speakers. On this particular morning Claudio Freidzon spoke and invited the people to come forward for impartation. Impartation is the passing on of blessing one person has received from God to another person. I definitely needed the fire of revival in me. Those in front of me were passing out like I had seen them do on television a few times. I had been suspicious of it on those programs. I was also suspicious of some of the people around me that seemed to take it so lightly. They were laughing and talking while in line for the speaker to pray for them. There was soft worship music playing in the background, so I chose to not focus on all the distractions and focus on the Lord. While still waiting in the line, I began to pray and raise my hands to Him in worship. The distractions and suspicions faded away. Claudio prayed for me and I fell for the first time in my life. When they helped me up I was drunk and I was stuttering. Later, I walked outside onto the street to get some lunch and I remember how the whole world looked different. It seemed so much brighter. There was a new bounce in my walk and I definitely was bubbling inside. I had received something true and lasting that had shifted my whole paradigm.
That evening another Argentine minister spoke named Sergio Scataglini. At the end of the message he prayed over the people. During this prayer I felt something hit me in the top of the head. I looked up into the rafters to see if something had fallen. I am still not sure what hit me that night because there was no physical evidence. I believe God may have just smacked me on the top of the head for fun. God likes to have fun with us. I don’t know, but something real had happened. After the meeting, I walked back to my motel room and went to bed.
At 2:00 in the morning I awakened in a fetal position. I was crying and bent double, yet it felt good. I could feel what seemed to me to be like electrical charges going through my stomach. I figured the Lord was just giving me stomach punches since He had already smacked me across the head earlier. The fight was on. However, this time there was no fight in me. I was dying to myself and falling into the hands of a Living God. He began to talk to me. “As your mother didn’t want to have another child and rejected the idea of your birth, I am re-birthing you.” Since I was already in a fetal position that I couldn’t seem to get out of, I just accepted the statement. I cried some more. Actually I kept crying and I was stuck in that position until morning as I felt the continual birthing pains of God re-birthing me. Electrical-like charges kept going through my stomach and I remained in a fetal position. Yet, it all felt so good. New hope was being birthed in me. I knew I had a new reason to live. Even though it all seemed so weird, I was happy to be weird. I had lived daily in the old normal and now I was ready for a new one.
As morning came, I began to vision what this new day would be like. There were some things I needed to do. I needed to take a shower and get ready. I needed to go to the morning conference meeting. I seemed to be stuck to the bed and the stomach punches weren’t letting up. What was God up to? There was a schedule to keep. So, I crawled to the bathroom in the dark. The shades were still closed. Falling over into the tub in a fetal position, I turned the water on, trying to get to a place where I could function, yet the awesome encounter with God just kept continuing. I laughed. I loved. I worshiped. I received love. I was a mess.
Then the funniest thing happened. God does have a sense of humor. As I was still lying there in the tub, I heard the awful sound of the vacuum cleaner coming down the motel hallway. Would the maid come into the room thinking I was gone to the conference? What a surprise she would have! A weird guy in a tub in a dark bathroom is not what a maid lives to see! The designer of those little bolts and chains that keep someone from coming into a room must be more appreciated in our culture.
I eventually made my way to the conference. Walking up the streets of Dallas, trying not to react so obviously to the stomach punches, was a walk to be remembered. A wild looking man headed straight towards me but he suddenly turned and ran away. Could people see God upon me? Was there an aura around me? I found a seat in the balcony because there were less people there. I settled in and can barely remember that day. It was like I was in two worlds at the same time. I was still drunk from the day before. My upper lip was still numb. I was still stuttering. Sometimes I would just laugh for no reason it seemed. The stomach punches were still coming pretty regular. This was not the normal me.
I caught the shuttle back to the airport later that day. I found myself talking more. My laid-back personality had taken on a new boldness. I wasn’t pushy with religion but I was definitely sharing the wine. The prayer coordinator for Promise Keepers was on the shuttle beside me. I asked him why the movement had not come to Virginia. He shared insight of how so much darkness was flowing down upon our state from Washington. Was this the darkness I would go back to? Had I been given new light to take into this darkness? If so, I felt no fear. The word impossible didn’t seem to fit into my thoughts anymore. What had happened?
To be continued…..
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