New Wine

It all came together for me last Sunday as Mr. Blanding prayed ... he was a man on holy fire ... as all of the congregation gathered around the altar for prayer. To hear a man pray to God like he did ... crying out with no shame and with an earnestness that let me know I was truly in the right place, physically covered by my husband, whose hand was on my shoulder as I knelt with our 3 year-old on my lap. We sat to the left of our 7 year-old, who knelt with his father's right hand on his shoulder. This was our family ... right there at the altar. Paint a picture? Good. It's the right one.

ALL ON THE ALTAR

We, along with other families and members of our church, came to the altar and prayed to God under the leadership of this seasoned Mr. Blanding, whose wife stood beside him as he prayed fervently for God's covering over our young people and steered us through repentance for negligence to obey God at turns in our relationships with Him. The way this man climbed the steps to the stage, [as I could tell with my hearing while my eyes were shut] fell to his knees, curling up on the floor to lead us directly to God's throne in humility, created a powerfully fueled moment. He roared with such a desperate cry in praise to the Lord toward the end of the prayer ... a roar that erupted like a volcano, bursting with lava which caught the souls of us around the altar. Seeing the head of a household, a man with age behind him, a strong male presence, a manly man ... be freely vulnerable and unhindered in his worship of our strong God said to me, "Yeah, girl! You're in the right place, right now!"

The strength of this moment hangs with me days later as I think of its fanciful nature. It was like a dream to me ... a woman who appreciates the structure that God instituted for the community and the family ages ago ... falling under a godly man's leadership. To be covered by Pastor Lawrence, Mr. Blanding, and my faithful husband in that moment of prayer on God's altar was a place of comfort, requirement, and urgency all at the same time. To be held in the hand of God, lead by strong godly men, and namely, walking through this phase of my life following my husband, who refuses to give up on finding God pleased with him as he leads our family, is an honor and a ride that won't quit.

SPIRIT SURFING

Then back to church last Tuesday for bible study ... Deacon Montague prayed as a man in a moment when it was clear he knew he had God's attention and power at his disposal. I tell you, when a man will go hoarse for God, it says something about his core beliefs, which push him in leading a group of praying people to the Throne with the holy boldness we're afforded.

It was like we were Spirit surfing, holding Deacon Montague's coat tails as we rode deeper and deeper into the waves of God's glorious presence. We are a people who come to offer Him our praise and obedience regardless and because of all the factors in our lives.

RIGHTS TO PEACE

This walk with God finds me in a place where I'm falling fast in love with hiding under the shadow of His wing ... where I'm pleased to trust Him when it feels messy and unsettled ... where there's an eerie freshness to signs of trouble, crushing, and groundbreaking. I'm in a place where, after a day filled with core-testing challenges, walking into my bedroom and seeing a made bed invites unexpected peace and spontaneously helps me feel just a tad better. This mimics what I believe's going on in the spirit realm. We believers are an abode that has rights to uninterrupted peace ... a place where our rest is always a thing ... it's ever present, residing in our peace-giving God, Who, when we're most aware of Him, knocks our socks off with His serenity. And this place of solitude, to which the most grand things in life pale in comparison, is such a simple thing (like a physically made bed) when we're willing to keep things simple by leaving our hearts in the Master's hand, seeking to please Him with our obedience. These days, I'm realizing that obedience (and everything, really) starts in the heart (Prov. 4:23). So, herein lies the critical nature of one's core beliefs being where they should be ... rooted in right relationship with God.

CHIROPRACTIC RECRUITMENT

The other day, Asaiah (our three year-old) was on the Chick Fil-a playground asking other kids if they've been to the chiropractor.

When Asa, (our older son) stopped playing to tell me this, I thought his news would be about Asaiah asking kids if they knew Jesus (because we live doing our best to make Jesus the staple of our household and not a mere pastime).

However, after thinking about it a bit, I was taken back to a previous post of mine where I wrote about an experience at the chiropractor ("Get Back Right") and how it very closely mirrored being adjusted and fixed by God. So, the fact that Asaiah was recruiting other kids to the chiropractor tickled me because he was only modeling what we expose him to three times per week (number of times we visit the chiropractor). This is encouraging, as it reveals what comes out of intention and consistency.

DON'T DO IT, MS. CELIE

Remember, in the movie The Color Purple, when Sophia sits at Mister's dining room table, right after Celie holds a knife to his throat? Sophia, who's been through some ground-breaking experiences herself, shares her story with others at the table. She, an African American woman during segregation, tells of how her spicy temper won her the role of indentured servant to the mayor's wife, Mrs. Millie (Caucasian), who tried to bribe her for maid service one day in town by telling her that her little black children were so clean. Sophia's choice words in declining Mrs. Millie's offer landed her in jail for a time (coupled with physical beating) and earned her years of service in the very place she, with much attitude, tried to avoid --- Mrs. Millie's house. However, after serving her sentence and ending up back at home with family and friends (see the movie if you're lost here), Sophia, at Mister's table, slowly lets out a strangely mysterious, baritone chuckle at a time that doesn't seem appropriate (because a knife's just been held to a man's throat). She then abruptly cuts off her laugh with an impressive sharpness, drops her smile as she rocks back and forth, and begins to school Celie and all else at the table about decisions in life, starting with, "Set up in that jail ..."

She tells of going through a process that taught her hard lessons of how to channel her voice, how to harness her strength and forthrightness, and how to finagle her way through a period in our country when racism, inequality, and segregation were extremely blatant and widely accepted. She opens some eyes around the table to what periods of crushing and pressing can teach a person. She exposes them to a sincere story of the newness that's come out of her pain and imprisonment to a situation she would have rather not known.

NEW WINE

I believe there's a sameness linking the holy fire with which prayer's been going forth in my church recently to crushing and pressing going on in the lives of the people in it. I believe life's been trying its best lately to wear us out, and what's surfacing is a holy determination to stay tight with JESUS! We keep gettin' squeezed and pressured over here, and what's oozing out is anointing that God's pleased to pour right on in to these new wine skins. I'm confident that I speak for many of us when I say the process ain't been pretty, but I believe that the glory coming from it will leave this crushing and pressing in the dust.

#newwine #pressing #crushing