I was encouraged to share this experience with you guys from Training Camp last month, so here goes.
I’m an Anglican. A lot of you know that already (Perhaps I remind you all too often). Due to my Anglicanism I am a little more on the traditional side of the spectrum, to say the least. I haven’t always been traditional though, in fact my upbringing was definitely more contemporary. I attended Non-Denominational churches and Baptist churches for a good chunk of my life. It has only been in the last 5 years that I have switched to the traditional side, and only in the last 3 1/2 years that I have been an Anglican. Since I became an Anglican I’ve really delved into it; fallen in love with it. It certainly is a beautiful thing. Although the further I dove into Anglicanism, the further I was separated from my charismatic past, until I forgot about it completely. I became 100% Anglican. I even became somewhat cynical about my contemporary counterparts, with their hand-raising, tongues-speaking, and jumping around like a bunch of wild animals. Again, I totally forgot about my upbringing (though I’ve never been gifted with tongues). You get the idea, I became very traditional. I still am traditional, but do keep reading.
Coming to Training Camp, I knew that it was going to be more on the contemporary side of things. Little could prepare me though for just how contemporary it actually was. Hand-raising, tongues, and jumping around like wild animals was more than present, and all I could do was stand there, as silent as an oyster. I felt like an Animal Planet host in a den of monkeys (there might have been some narration in my head too).
One night, the speaker gave us the Holy Spirit talk. While I am a believer in the Holy Spirit and the gifts of the Holy Spirit, in this setting I shrunk up even more. “You’re preaching to the choir, buddy. I think these folks are more than aware of the power of the Spirit,” I said to myself. During the talk I sat with my arms crossed thinking about the Man Hike that was coming up in the next day or two. Again, I never doubted the Spirit, but this talk was a tad out of my comfort zone. When the speaker was finished, he asked us all to stand up and basically let the Spirit in and shout. The room was full of shouts and cries, but not from me. I felt more than ever like Jane Goodall. Several folks came and prayed for me because they noticed the stunning lack of Holy Spirit antics being displayed.
The night got weirder and weirder. The band got up on stage and started playing music while everyone did their thing, and I didn’t think they were ever going to stop. It went on and on. Finally I had no choice but to pray. “Lord, this is strange, but if this is real, show me. If this is not animism or some other weird thing, show me. Have one more person come and pray for me. Just one. Show me!”
After I prayed that prayer I started to raise my hand a bit in an effort to not attract attention to myself (I didn’t want to cheat in getting someone to come over). After about 5 minutes I forgot I had even prayed. That’s when the Lord made his move. A guy sneaked up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and prayed. When he was done, another person came and prayed. When she was done, another person came and prayed. Three people prayed for me. I got my answer. I broke down after that, almost collapsing. Then I was suddenly filled with a joy and love unlike anything I had experienced in a very long time. Then I joined in the hand-raising/jumping around like a wild animal (I still couldn’t speak in tongues though).
I fell in love with the Lord all over again, and I was greatly convicted. I realized that I had allowed myself to become too religious. It wasn’t Anglicanisms fault that I became that way, but rather my own. I delved so much into the liturgy, theology, and beauty of Anglicanism that I totally lost sight of who I was doing those things for. I was reminded that night and really during that whole 10 days who I was doing those things for, and I hate to say it (to my Anglican Church family) but I got back in touch with my contemporary self. I still long for the beauty of traditional worship, but I now find myself also longing for the same thing I frowned upon before.
The rest of Training Camp was a huge turning point in my life. I witnessed healing, brokenness, joy, and a peace I hadn’t felt in some time. At those times I found myself saying that same prayer I prayed during the Holy Spirit night, “Lord, show me!” Guess what, each time I prayed that, he showed me.
Again, I’m still an Anglican, and I still long for traditional worship, but don’t be surprised if you see a hand go up every now and then.
