There is a rhythmic ebb and flow to the spiritual life.
We seldom give it a second thought, any more than we do the physical act of breathing–inhaling oxygen, exhaling carbon dioxide–which is a basic ebb and flow of life.
There is a similar taken-for-granted rhthym to the spiritual life.
That should not surprise us, however, for that is how God stuctured his universe.
It is the structure of our world.
The tide rolls in and the tide washes out. The sun seizes the day, then surrenders to the moon.
It is the structure of our bodies.
The heart pushes blood out, then pulls it back in. The lungs receive oxygen-poor blood and distribute oxygen-rich blood.
It is the structure of nature.
There is–as Sir Isaac Newton first noted–a rhyhmic universal force. Its flow pulls objects inward to the center. Anyone who has hung suspended from a tree branch and then released their grip has experienced gravity’s centripetal force. Its ebb pushes objects outward to the fringes. Anyone who has ridden a playground merry-go-round at dizzying speed has experienced the sensation of centrifugal force.
God structured his universe with a certain ebb and flow.
That is also how God structured the spiritual life.
The spiritual life force is the Holy Spirit.
The Spirit pulls us inward toward the center, close to the heart of God. Then he pushes us outward toward the fringes, into a needy world. It is the heartbeat of the spiritual ife, as necessary as breathing is to the physical life.
So it is that in Old Testament scripture we observe prophets pulled inward toward the center, spending time alone in the presence of God, and then pushed outward into the world to speak and live God’s truth there.
A similar rhythm is obvious in the life of Jesus, who spent entire nights alone in prayer, one-on-one and heart-to-heart with his father, and then engaged in long periods of ministry in the world and among the masses. He was pulled to the very core of his father’s heart, then pushed to the very fringes of life and culture.
Such a spiritual ebb and flow not only characterized Jesus’ life, but is also meant to mark the lives of all those who follow him.
A single sentence from Mark’s gospel is quite revealing in that regard.
“And (Jesus) went up on the mountain and called to him those whom he desired, and they came to him. And he appointed twelve, whom he also named apostles, so that they might be with him . . . ” . (3:13a)
One of Jesus’ earliest acts as a Rabbi was to call people to himself. With centripetal force, he drew them to the very center of his person, to the very core of his heart. And for three solid years, they lived in that intimate relationship.
But there was an ebb to match that flow.
“. . . that they might be with him and he might send them out to preach and to have authority to cast out demons.” (3:13b-14)
With centrifugal force, Jesus drove them to the very fringes of their culture and their world. And there, they lived and spoke his truth and love among people who desperately needed both.
Ebb and flow–it’s the rhythm of following Jesus, the rhythm of obeying God.
There is a rhythm to the spiritual life: to be with God, engaging the heart of our father, and to be in the world, engaging our culture. It is a rhythm that is meant to be as certain as the seasons, as predictable as the tide.
It should not surprise us, then, that such a rhythm lies at the heart of all true revival.
Revival is always, first and foremost, a centripetal force, pulling us to the very center of things, drawing us to the heart of God–each of us individually, all of us corporately. But, as well, revival always possesses an ebb to match its flow, a centrifugal force that pushes us to the very fringes of life–to all the places and people of our world that we might make known to them the truth and love of our father.
Such has been the character of every major revival in history.
And so it was with revivals in more modern times.
Whether it was America’s “Great Awakening” of the eighteenth century, or the 1904 revival in the country of Wales, or the spiritual explosion in Korea over the last three-plus decades, in each instance, the Spirit drew people to God in repentance and restoration, and then drove those same people into the world to influence and impact their culture for God.
Such is the very nature of genuine revival.
As people draw close to the heart of God, the insulation around their hearts peals away, the attitudes of isolation melt away, and God’s people move from that divine center to life’s fringes, investing in their culture, influencing their culture, and impacting their culture for the kingdom.
Revival that does not impact culture, that does not impact the people and places around us, is not true revival. Revival always purges and purifies the culture of which it is a part. Genuine revival has impact on contact with its culture.
So it was when the child-king of Judah, Josiah, experienced personal revival. The Spirit first touched his heart, in a radically fresh and stirring way, and then, somewhat like an atomic chain reaction, that touch swept through heart after heart after heart. Josiah’s personal revival had profound and immediate impact on his culture.
“In the eighth year of his reign, while he was yet a boy, (Josiah) began to seek the God of David his father, and in the twelfth year he began to purge Judah and Jerusalem of the high places, the Asherim, and the carved and metal images. And they chopped down the altars of the Baals in his presence, and he cut down the incense altars that stood above them. And he broke in pieces the Asherim and the carved and metal images, and he made dust of them and scattered it over the graves of those who had sacrificed to them. He also burned the bones of the priests on their altars and cleansed Judah and Jerusalem. And in the cities of Manasseh, Ephraim, and Simeon, and as far as Naphtali, in their ruins all around, he broke down the altars and beat the Asherim and the images into powder and cut down all the incense altars throughout all the land of Israel. Then he returned to Jerusalem.” (II Chronicles 34:3-7)
Josiah’s personal revival was the spark that ignited cultural revival. It couldn’t be contained.
It never can.
Impact on contact is the nature of all true revival.
Sometime later, a second revival rocked the land, again sparked by Josiah’s personal revival, one that enflamed his heart after he heard–for the first time in his life!–words from the long-lost book of the Law.
“And when the king heard the words of the Law, he tore his clothes. And the king commanded Hilkiah, Ahikam the son of Shaphan, Abdon the son of Micah, Shaphan the secretary and Asaiah the kings’s servant, saying, ‘Go inquire of the Lord for me and for those who are left in Israel and Judah, concerning the words of the book that has been found. For great is the wrath of the Lord that is poured out on us, because our fathers have not kept the word of the Lord, to do according to all that is written in the book. . . .
Then the king sent and gathered all the elders of Judah and Jerusalem. And the king went up to the house of the Lord, with all the men of Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem and the priests and the Levites, all the people both great and small. And he read in their hearing all the words of the Book of the Covenant that had been found in the house of the Lord. And the king stood in his place and made a covenant before the Lord, to walk after the Lord and to keep his commandments and his testimonies and his statutes, with all his heart and all his soul, to perform the words of the covenant that were written in the book. Then he made all who were present in Jerusalem and in Benjamin join in it. And the inhabitants of Jerusalem did according to the covenant of God, the God of their fathers. And Josiah took away all the abominations from all the territory that belonged to the people of Israel and made all who were present in Israel serve the Lord their God. All his days they did not turn away from following the Lord, the God of their fathers.” (II Chronicles 34: 19-21, 29-33)
Once more, personal revival had cultural impact, and that impact was immediate.
The way salt impacts blandness.
“You are the salt of the earth,” said Jesus.
The way light impacts darkness.
“You are the light of the world,” said Jesus.
What do Jesus’ words describe, if not personal impact on culture? What do Jesus’ words mean if not impact on contact with culture?
Jesus’ disciples, and those initial Christians who followed in their footsteps, ignited a cultural revival from the spark of their own personal revival.
That should teach us something.
If there is such a thing as a New Testament pattern for community and cultural revival, it begins with the Spirit igniting the kindling of prayer and the twigs of personal revival. Then come the small logs of church-wide revival, followed by the larger logs of neighborhood and community revival and, soon, a great fire is burning, spreading rapidly in every direction, lighting hearts and lives, engulfing cities and regions, until all of culture is ablaze with the glory of God.
It seems I have read stories like that before. (to read part two click here)
