The Holy Spirit has always been a bit of an enigma for me. It’s part of the trinity. It’s a driving and powerful force. Full of love. Mystery.
Being raised Southern Baptist I have little grounding on the things of the Spirit. I believe in it and all of it’s amazing ways, and I believe in its power. I just have never really understood it. Depending on your school of thought it can look so many ways. To some denominations it’s all that matters. The gifts it gives at the forefront of their faith. To some it’s another part of the trinity. Amazing in what it can do, but not the focus. If you’ve read The Shack it’s a gossamer Asian woman. The jury is still out on that last one.
One of the mains reasons I came on the Race is so that I could explore my faith in its entirety. My faith has always been fairly pragmatic. Very servant-based. Missions driven. Nothing wrong with that. I simply wanted to explore everything there is to explore about my God. What He has for me. The main part of this for me was the Holy Spirit.
I didn’t really want other people to tell me what it was. What it’s supposed to look like. Whether spiritual gifts are abused or under appreciated. If speaking in tongues is a strange and discouraged, or the only way you can worship God. People overcomplicate things. Muddy them. Smoke, mirrors, and agendas. I didn’t want my view on the Holy Spirit to come from people. I wanted it to come from the Holy Spirit.
There have been many times on the Race where I’ve felt the Spirit in one way or another. The way It has cleared an area of warfare. The way it has brought peace on people. The way it has done both of these things in me personally. I felt it speak to me. Guide my path. Come alongside me in prayer.
But India has been the country that I’ve felt like I’ve sense the Spirit the most.
There have been numerous times, while praying aloud, that I’ve felt the wind pick up or the sun shine brighter but only for a second. As if He’s answering my questions. Agreeing or confirming with me. I’ve felt Him guide me to certain people. But He’s also used me to do His work this month.
At one of the medical camps we worked, I had the opportunity to be a part of the “counseling” section of the camp. Don’t freak out, they didn’t actually let me counsel anyone. Thankfully. No, it was more of a station for prayer. To share the Gospel. At least that’s how it started.
Slowly through our evangelist translators, it became more of a faith healing station. Which piqued my interest incredibly. I’ve never been a part of a healing or anything so overtly spiritual before. I was curious. I wanted to be a part of it if I could. I got my wish in spades.
Over the course of the day my teammate James and I must have prayed for over 80 people. We prayed for their aches and their pains. We prayed for their families. We prayed for them to come to salvation in Christ. For Jesus to heal them, but that on the heels of the healing would come the realization of just who healed them. That this prayer would send them headlong into the arms of Christ. A vast majority of the people were Hindu Orthodox, making my desire for them to come to Christ all the stronger.
I am by nature a skeptical person. Through my personality and schooling I’ve become accustomed to searching for a rational answer for everything. Something I’ve been trying to move away from more and more since the Race started. In spite of this, some pretty awesome things happened.
Through our translator we learned that prayer after prayer, people would feel their afflictions and infirmities slip away. Their pain subsided, in some cases disappeared. James and I thought maybe some of this was due to eager translators and misinterpretations. However, some people said they felt heat radiate through and around their afflicted area and felt the pain move away completely. Praise God, right? I mean, shoot! That’s crazy stuff. Stuff that even I can’t rationalize away.
But that wasn’t the most interesting part of the day. Towards the end a women came up to be prayed for that was a Christian. However, the translators let us know that she was “backsliding,” whatever that meant in her particular case. Regardless, we prayed for her and 4 others at the same time. Each of us praying for an individual or two. As we all finished praying suddenly this woman collapsed. Not a staged collapse. No one pushed her or anything. She just straight up fainted.
James and I thought she was having some sort of medical issue, it was pretty hot in the village. This was evidenced by James voicing what we were both thinking in saying “I mean, she’s still breathing. That’s good.” But the translators suspected something else and immediately went into prayer mode.
They grabbed a Hmar Bible and laid it on her chest, then began laying hands on her in fervent and powerful prayer. It was only then that James and I realized that we had just become party to a deliverance, or a casting out of a spirit. So we launched into prayer ourselves. I called to mind the tips and experiences of my fellow squad mates in this situation. Praying for protection, blessing, and namely deliverance. All throughout the woman was emitting a low moaning sound, almost like the hum of an electrical outlet. She was not passed out, she was in battle. Something more was roiling beneath the surface. Something we couldn’t quite understand due to the language barrier.
Then suddenly, just as quickly as she had fallen, her eyes opened. She began saying amen over and over. The translators helped her to her feet. Dizzy and weak she stood there. Delivered. She could barely stand on her own for minutes afterward. We learned later that she had been set upon by a spirit sent by someone practicing witchcraft. The translators had actually cast out the same spirit previously, after which she became a Christian. Then she “backslid,” and the spirit came back. Which is where James and I entered the story.
Each of these experiences, the healing and the deliverance, maybe took 5 to 10 minutes a piece. It was like rapid fire Spirit encounters. You always hear of these long, arduous things accomplished by the Spirit. Where it takes people hours or more to help someone. Not so in this case. I originally thought it was because all of this stuff was small time for the Spirit. But no, I think He was just showing off. Showing His immense and immeasurable power. Nowhere does it say that the Spirit can’t deal with things in seconds. I mean, He’s one strong dude.
Through these and other experiences I have come to know the Spirit as less of an abstract thing, and more of a friend and comrade. Not an it, but a He. A teacher and mentor. In a book I’m reading the author says that:
“As you open up your heart and He continues to fill you with His presence, you’ll find that He’s your best and truest friend on the planet, and He will kick down the prison walls and fearlessly charge into the teeth of enemy fire with you.”
Guys, I like that. I want to spend more time with someone like that. With the Holy Spirit. With God and Jesus. With all of them. The Spirit isn’t trying to make your life scary. Or embarrass you. Or take over you. He wants to come alongside you. He wants to be with you. He wants to laugh and cry with you. He wants to help and teach you. He wants to fight with you. He wants you to recognize the path that God has for you. And He wants to make sure you get there.
Why? Because He loves you. When you think of Him, remember that. Try not to overcomplicate it. Try to let it be as natural of a relationship as it truly is.
If there’s one thing I’m learning most here in India it’s that the Spirit just wants to do life with you. In everything you do. Sin and all.
I like the sound of that. I think I might just let Him.
Still delving into the mystery,
Seth
