In my introduction page for myself, one of my last things that I commented on was my tendency to sensor what I'm thinking/have experienced/etc. My prayer has been for this blog to be an open book and honest look into my life before, during, and after the World Race. It's time for one of those open looks. I've known for awhile that I would have to write this blog, but the "when" and the "how" where a bit of a mystery. The "when" has been solved and I'm hoping by the end of this, the "how" will have been solved too.
I realize this story may be hard to understand or grasp or even uncomfortable. That's okay. Up until training camp, I'd have been feeling/thinking the same things as a casual reader. However, I need to share. And just like that moment when Team Monarch prayed with Connie, this is another one of those moments in my life which I’ll remember for as long as I live. So here goes.
The Trinity. Father. Son. Holy Spirit. The first two have always been pretty straightforward for me to comprehend. The latter, not so much. Not until training camp. Michael Hindes was speaking at one of our sessions for training camp on the Holy Spirit. The power of the Holy Spirit. How It moves. How It works in people. He's talking about people falling down, speaking in tongues, uncontrollable laughter, or a ridiculous amount of crying, amongst many other things. I've seen the videos online or on tv. Someone in church is "touched' by the Holy Spirit and suddenly they fall limp or start talking incoherently. I may have not openly admitted it, but inside I more or less believed most folks were probably putting on a show. Any who, Michael reaches the point where he's got us standing up and tells us we're going to bring the Holy Spirit in to this place (pavilion) right now and if you want to experience It, just raise your hands. Michael's praying for the Holy Spirit to come in and mentions that It is in the back of the room, slowly coming forward. Decision time.
In that moment, I felt like Thomas probably felt when he heard that Jesus had risen from the dead. He wasn't going to believe it unless he could touch the wounds in the hand of Jesus. Not until he saw it and experienced it for himself. Being told wasn't enough. I had the same doubts. I absolutely believed in the Holy Spirit and Its existence. But the idea of the Holy Spirit in the regard of how people responded to It when they were "touched" was just a little too farfetched for me. In that moment though I had to make the decision. I was standing on a cliff. On a cliff where things were clear and I could understand them. Below me was a vast ocean of things beyond my comprehension. Do I stay in my comfort zone? Do I or do I not leap off? In that moment, I clearly remember praying, “God, I have my doubts, but if there is something about the Holy Spirit that I haven’t even touched after 25 years of my life, lay It on me. Whatever It is. I want It. To experience and feel first hand. I have to feel It. Just being told It is there is not enough.” So I raised my hands and leapt off my cliff.
Hands raised and eyes closed, someone came up to me and put a hand to my forehead and another to the back of my neck. All I remember is the words, “Father God…” before my body became warm and I started falling forward into the chairs in front of me. My legs no longer had any strength. I caught myself before completely falling forward, but then fell back into my own seat. Before I knew it, my head was in my knees because I couldn’t even sit up straight. I don’t remember what the person praying over me said. But in that moment, I completely lost it. I don’t cry often. It’s not my style. But I cried harder in those following minutes that I probably had in the last several years. I can’t even explain why I was crying. But it was more tears and snot than I knew what to do with. I don’t know how long I was like that. It could have been 5 minutes. It could have been 30 minutes. Time more or less stood still. Two others during that time came and prayed over me as well. By the time the third person came around, my shirt was soaked, but I’d composed myself pretty well. As he was praying for me, I attempted to speak words just re-affirming what he was saying. Problem was, my mouth wasn’t working. What came out wasn’t the words I had pictured in my mind. It wasn’t what I was trying to say. I took that moment then to just be quiet. Just to listen.
Immediately after that, I sat down and wrote what I was feeling right at that moment. What I’d just experienced. Because I knew that if I didn’t then, I wouldn’t be able to recapture those exact feelings again even if I wanted to. So I’m going to share word for word what I wrote down.
I have to write this now so I never forget. This feeling of freedom. In 25 years never have I felt this way. Never have I experienced this awesome power and grace of the Holy Spirit. So powerful I can’t stand. So powerful I’m ready to move mountains. I’m ready to live life like it was meant to be lived. My skin is on fire. Like I can feel the individual atoms that were knit when I was created. That were there before I was born. My mouth is not my own. I try to speak and what comes out isn’t intelligible. It isn’t English. It’s something different. Something absolutely real. I used to doubt and think it was all an act, but after today I know the Truth that it is. The Truth that it always has been. Always will be.
Acts 1:8 – But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be my witnesses, telling people about Me everywhere—in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.
So I Go
