“Now that I have seen, I am responsible. Faith without works is dead”
Knowing my love for worship my daughter Kate gave me a CD of Brooke Fraser that I’ve already played dozens of times but this morning I was especially drawn to the song “Albertine” and I found her video about Rwanda’s genocide on Youtube. I’m sharing it with you cause it’s so powerful.
Last night we had a blow out glorious worship service and I kept hearing the Spirit say “Voices, its about the voices.” He wasn’t talking to me about the singing, but about declaring and proclaiming Him God and how He is empowering those voices for a new day to declare and proclaim His Words in the earth. I believe there was an impartation there for open hearts, ears and mouths to be empowered with a new voice for each one who will speak. A bold voice full of His mercy and grace to proclaim His Lordship AND what His eyes see and His ears hear every day 24/7. It hit me this morning what He must experience daily. Thousands in Myanmar lost in a day, possibly 50,000 lost in the China quake, and millions unnoticed in their suffering crying out to Him. Yesterday was an especially hard day in our community. This week two beloved families of our church lost their fathers. (Teresa, I’m holding you and your mom up in prayer. I remember Alpha and you are both amazing women of God, to that I am a witness.) Add to that the news of unavoidable job cuts that will greatly impact us all. I was feeling the burden of all this last night, the loss, of words for the hurting and the inevitable nature of this present fallen world. And I went into the worship service with that on my heart. As I kept praising Him and focusing on Him the weight of it all lifted. In His incomprehensible omniscience and foreknowledge, He already bore the pain of all of this week’s suffering and opened the door of hope to all who choose to believe. I had to rethink the height, depth, length and breadth of the cross. I had allowed Him to become too small again, but praising magnified His true nature again. He is the only hope for this world. And not just in message but in action, because He not only gives us His voice to declare who He is, He has made us His feet and hands as well. I’ve been to the villages in Guatemala in the 80’s when the rebels, armed with their liberation theology, terrorized the impoverished people, not just stealing what little belongings they had but taking their young boys to indoctrinate into their armies. Can we even imagine the pain of that kind of loss? My husband has ministered to the citizens of the unimaginable, many miles square, card board cities in Mexico City’s garbage dump. The first time I saw a card board city, it was within sight of the resort beach of Bahia Kino, Mexico, on the coast of the Sea of Cortez, precariously leaning up against the metal buildings of a fish cannery. Then there was the card board city of Asuncion, Paraguay and the pastors who lived there who brought their people, hungry for God, to the church at which I was ministering. Their faces are still with me. He is speaking to us about these invisible people, for their salvation yes, but also to help relieve their plight. The Church has always been about helping those in need. I remember Marilyn’s first trips to Ethiopia delivering food to the starving there in the famines of the 80’s. The faces of the children there and in so many other parts of Africa haunt me still. And Heidi Baker’s pictures of the children orphaned in Mozambique in the 90’s floods. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. He is looking for us to give our Voices to speak those thousand words and more. So let us feel the burden of the losses, bring our whole self to His throne and praise Him, intercede on behalf of those, and let Him trade our burden for His hope, using the Voices He has given each of us. This is for Albertine.
Sorry I haven’t shown up here last couple days. I had to buy a new laptop which I’ve actually been saving for over the past several months. Doesn’t saving for things make them so much more appreciated when you buy them. That’s how I feel about my new laptop, a very important tool for blogging. And I’m actually in the middle to transferring everything over from my old laptop, a truly challenging task even with an exterior harddrive. I hope to finish most of it later today.
I had to take break and drop a note here. I want to thank my kids for the great Mother’s Day they gave me yesterday. It wasn’t elaborate but it was another one of those precious days of connecting, hugging, sharing, hearing each others’ hearts on several items, and most important, laughing together. The best thing a mom can know is that her children are happy. I came home yesterday most at peace because of how happy my kids are in this season of their life. What more could I ask for on Mother’s Day?
I don’t know about you but I can’t imagine worship without instruments, all kinds of instruments. I know there are denominations that conduct worship services without music accompaniment even today (like the Primitive Baptists, Church of Christ and the Amish, sorry don’t mean to offend) but I’d find it hard to hang in with acapella singing or chanting week after week. Instrumental worship was not widely practiced until the 18th century, and it was opposed vigorously by notable Christian scholars such as Justin Martyr (100–165), John Calvin (1509–1564), and John Wesley (1703–1791). That from the very reliable source, Wikipedia! Maybe it’s something you have to grow up with. I actually grew up with an organ or piano accompanying the singing in the churches I went to as a kid. I’d have a hard time today if that’s all we had for instruments for worship. So I’m very thankful for that guy Larry Norman I mentioned recently. Pastor Darian (http://anuncommongrace.wordpress.com/) reminded me that Larry had passed away earlier this year, steering me to a Randy Stonehill recording with all the artists and bands we listened to in the early 70’s as young Christians. So this blog is a tribute to our old friend, Larry Norman, who broke the mold and introduced Christian Rock to the Church. Thank you, Lord, for his life. He was brave enough to confront more than two millennia of instrument starved worship, taking up where King David had left off (Ps 150), bringing guitars and drums back into our worship and opening the door for so much more. I bet the Lord was so glad to hear the creativity of it all. Even as I write this I can hear the grumblings of an earlier generation calling it sacrilegious and irreverent and I feel like a rebel again. But we wanted to express our adoration of our Savior through the form of music we were most familiar with and that was rock. It wasn’t to reach the lost in that day (like being relevant is today) as much as it was our generation’s true form of expression. In fact in the beginning, like most of the early efforts at using new media, some of it wasn’t even very good. It wasn’t done as creatively or radically as the world’s rock but we believers didn’t care, we still loved it. It was our way to worship. So here’s to Larry. Thanks again, brother. Rock on!
First, my disclaimer: I am not an expert on the emerging church and the more I hear I’m not sure there can be because of the many views involved. I have read the writers of the postmodern secular and Christian movement and articles by or about the leaders and understand the main points. Here’s the thing. Each generation “emerges” with their own identity which they are known for in history. I like that the younger Christian generation has taken this obvious phenomenon of emerging as their identity. Protestants were protesters, Baptists were baptizers, etc.
The last generation was identified with an “X” and the one before as “Boomers” which explains something critical about each. In the 60-70’s, the Boomers’ youth revolution gave birth to both the charismatic revival and to denominational liberalism. Many jumped into the river of the Spirit; many fell away from basic Christian beliefs. Today generation Y and the millennials are also developing views that will call for their choosing sides. The counter part for the emerging church is also a falling away group that embraces post-modernism as their core belief system.
As far as the Christian faith is concerned it is not rooted in outward appearance but in core belief. There is a circle of truth! Uh oh! I just lost the true post modernists since they claim we can’t know truth. And here’s what I mean by emergency. If you are calling yourself the emerging church and agreeing with the idea that there are no absolute truths, that is an emergency - you need to call 911 and get some help! Jesus said, “I am the truth.” What are you going to do with that? So here’s the first item in the circle of truth that should separate out the wolves from the sheep: Christians believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God (2 Tim. 3:15-16). If you don’t believe that beware of becoming a part of the apostasy or falling away (2 Tim 4:2-4, 2 Thess. 2:3, Heb 3:12; 6:6). If you do believe the authority of the Word of God, whether or not you have tattoos or listen to U2, and have received Jesus words as truth, then you are the church – and I for one, encourage you – please do be the emerging church! We need you!
Recently I ran across a blog on the emerging church which might or might not be a part of the next generational revival. I’ll give you that blog site at the end here. Here’s what encourages me and concerns me: it could be emerging or an emergency. And I’m sure that is what all the old timers in the 70’s thought of the Jesus people in leather sandals and long hair (looking a lot like Jesus’ knocking at that door). So try as I might, like many before me, to not sound like my parents, I’m wrestling now with what is described as the emerging church. Not wanting to throw out the baby with the bath water, I want to be thoughtful about what I see and hear. Please don’t be offended by my perceptions so far; I’m wanting to listen to all sides of this.
So what’s some characteristics of the emergent church? Let’s talk about popular music among the emergent church. This article named U2, Moby, and Johnny Cash’s Hurt and I’m sure there is more.
U2: “was just okay, for me, man, a little pitchy, you know what I mean dog?” Ok enough of my American idol gig, because this guy is a World idol. I guess I heard all the great rock and roll when I wasn’t a believer and could really get into it and to revisit it with a new band isn’t appealing now. But that’s just me. I think its Bono (not Sonny) personally that is the appeal. He has said he’s a believer (though his language wasn’t much affected by it) and I believe him. He has led a huge effort to help with the AIDS epidemic in Africa and if he’d just go ahead, take the vow of poverty and quietly give all his billions, like hundreds of ministries have given their all (not the billions part because they don’t get that kind of attention) it could wipe out the epidemic, but… instead he has chosen the politics of using his celebrity to raise social conscienceness. So now the perception is if you aren’t on his band wagon, you’re judged and condemned to be a hypocrit of true Christianity. I think his means fits into one of those hard to understand Jesus’ sayings that is in Luke 16:1-13, one of Jesus’ stories about using the world’s wealth as the world uses it. Leave it to you to decide.
The next band mentioned is Moby, NOT in my iTunes library. But the last one is Johnny Cash which I find very ironic for the postmodernist. Johnny Cash, a true modernist depression baby, was truly born again in the 70’s and as believers we listened to his full album telling the gospel story in song on eight track tape which seems to not be available anymore except at antique shows. He’s a boomer believer’s icon, told our story perfectly, drugs and redemption, but why popular with the emergents? Maybe I’m more emergent than I think.
The year was 1975. Little did I know I had just joined the ranks of millions of young people finding salvation in Jesus from one coast to the other across our nation in what has come to be known as the Charismatic Movement. Revival came to the baby boomers sweeping us out of the darkness of drugs and rebellion into a glorious spirit filled community that would change the face of how church was done forever. We came with long hair and dirty jeans, couldn’t get into hymnals or organ music and quickly replaced them with acoustic guitars and made up songs from scripture. We were often greeted with skepticism and even hostility, but we knew the world would know us by our Love and that’s what we wore as big as life along with an arsenal of the gifts of the Spirit that confounded the elders and caused many a church split. We didn’t intend that affect but couldn’t deny the power that had saved us, delivered us and changed us forever.
Of the people in the adjacent room on the night I knelt beside my bed, a great many were born-again within the next few years. I recently attended my 40th high school reunion and was blessed at how many of my school mates are now believers and have been for many years. I lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico at the time I was born-again and later read that it was home to the largest charismatic revival among Catholics the nation experienced. I believe it. Most of my spirit-filled friends were “moonlighting” among us non-Catholics during the week and going to mass on Sunday. I saw the first “mega-church” back in the early seventies with over a thousand singing, clapping, hands raised to the heaven, spirit-filled fanatics. Glory! We witnessed to everything that moved. Friends won friends to the Lord and it spread like wildfire. Unlike its conservative beginnings on the campus of Duquesne University or at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church among the Catholics and Episcopalians in the 60’s, it reached deep into the boomer generation including students on secular campuses, soldiers in Vietnam, and reaching into the lost culture of the hippie movement and reaping the harvest of the Jesus people.
Did you know the Calvary chapels and Vineyards have their roots in the Jesus people. Independent churches became popular. Even church names became unique. Instead of the First Church, we were the Happy Church, Seedtime and Harvest, Milk and Honey, the Rock Church, On the Rock, and on and on. True revival, like a river at flood tide, changes the scenery. Some see damage but seers see the harvest.
Changes came at me fast. I obeyed the Lord and moved out within a couple of days. Two weeks later, I went to church for the first time in years. My younger brother was being baptized and my mom made sure I was invited. I came in a little late and sat in one of the back rows. At the end of the sermon, the pastor gave an invitation to all who wanted to receive Jesus to come forward. I had grown up in a Baptist church and like on autopilot, sprang to my feet and made my way to the front while the organist played, “Just As I Am.” The pastor took my hand, asked my name and confirmed I had come to acknowledge Jesus as Lord. He then turned me around and introduced me to the congregation and a gasp came from a group on the right hand side of the church. People were invited to come welcome me to the church. A few women from that group came up introducing themselves, very excitedly explaining that their women’s group had interceded for me a couple of weeks before on the very Monday night that the darkness was pulled away for me. Of all the churches in that city, I had been drawn to the home of these intercessors. Their powerful intercession evidenced amazing results.
“He led me through the water…water reaching the ankles”
My first steps in revival came in February of 1975, as I stepped into my dark bedroom, letting the door close quietly behind me, shutting out the rowdy noise from the party in the next room. Easily finding my way to the side of the bed, I suddenly dropped to my knees. Natural eyes would not have seen anyone there except me but I was far from alone. Hidden from human eyes, bright shining inhabitants of the unseen world surrounded me, and in great anticipation, staunchly holding back the raging darkness, leaned in close to hear these words.
“Lord, please take control of my life before I destroy it.”
It was done! The prayer that changes everything had finally been whispered. The bright ones vanquished the onslaught, taking full victory in the battle. One of millions of battles being fought in that season. Still totally unaware of their presence I was suddenly flooded with the greatest feeling of peace and love I had ever experienced in my life. So overwhelmed by this feeling that had fallen upon me and now filled me completely, I was barely able to crawl under the covers before I was soundly out, falling into a blissful sleep. The last thing my eyes had caught was the clock marking 10:00PM. While I slept, heaven partied, rejoicing over the decision I had finally made. But the night was far from over.
(Continued from First Steps) Suddenly I found myself sitting straight up in bed, raised there by some unseen hand, my eyes wide open. I glanced at the clock, 3:00PM. A mighty sound approached from the left corner of the room, like a freight train coming through the wall. The sound became a distinct awesome voice moving as in slow motion from the one corner toward me coming so close it had to have touched the end of the bed “Get out! Get out as fast as you can!!” the Voice loudly warned before receding back toward the adjacent corner of the room, exiting just as suddenly as it had come.
The air lightened and the stilled room darkened again, becoming ever so quiet. Stunned and unable to move I sat wondering, “What was that?” The Voice had sounded so familiar yet I couldn’t place it. Its tone reminded me of my grandmother, for it had the same unconditional love in it that had always made me feel safe and secure especially in my trying teen years. But it couldn’t have been Mamaw, as we had affectionately called her. She had been gone now eight years. No it wasn’t her, but it was someone like her or maybe…someone Mamaw was like.
I quietly slipped from the bed, not disturbing Rick who apparently had slept soundly through the very shaking of the room. Funny, somehow I had noticed his soft snore had not missed a beat since I was awakened. I padded out the door down the hall into the living room, and taking a cross-legged seat on the black leather couch, I saw my big white Samoyed dog, Kye, come out from the tiled kitchen, his favorite sleeping spot, and make his way to a place beside me, to curl up and drop back to sleep.
There in the silence, I strained for sometime to understand what had just happened. Then I noticed it again, that feeling of peace and love I had been filled with after my prayer. Something, or was it someone? Seemed to be telling me it was God’s voice I had heard. My mind argued with this, not being one who believed in, much less had any experience in, the supernatural. Without ever stating it, I had held to the rule that if you can’t see or touch it, it doesn’t exist. So the notion that God would literally speak to me was just crazy. But my heart knew it was true. Not only had He taken me at my word to take control of my life, He had now spoken clear direction to me: the first step in following Him. And He had done it in such an undeniable way, I could not miss it. I had only to obey! The first step of my new life plainly spoken! How had this come to be.
“A long line of story tellers have undertaken to draw up a narrative, to tell the story, concerning the things which have been fulfilled among us, as they have been handed down to us, from the original eyewitnesses and ministers of the Word, to the voices of today. And so, I in my turn, have traced the course of all things accurately from the first to write a connected narrative for you so that you may be reliably informed about the things you’ve heard and are hearing.”
This perfectly states my purpose for blogging. Like all good stories, revivals have always had a well developed cast of characters, colorful and changing scenes, period wardrobes, drama, comedy, enemies and heroes, a crisis, an opening, an intermission, and a closing curtain. So can stories of the last two revivals help us speculate what the next revival story will look like?
For the past couple of centuries, history has recorded a revival for every generation, which is what makes sharing insight into the many facets of revival for next generation all the more expedient.
Most important, here in America, we have one of the most numerous populations of young people, from mid-teens to mid-thirties in age, we have seen since the post World War II baby boom. Distinguishing itself with fresh ideas, creativity, and unique communications, this next generation promises to lead our nation in a new direction. Will it be into new life and righteousness or in a wrong direction? The battle lines are already being drawn. Have you got a revival story? Come on and share it with us.
