Get On His Wavelength

There is a bit of dread and a lot of excitement as I sit down to process this weekend’s multi-squad conference (called Awakening).  It is overwhelming when God is present, you are present and other people are also present; then, in the midst of it all, He speaks.

Hearing the voice of the Lord is akin to listening to music playing outside the loud, chaotic room you are currently in.  His voice contains the ebb and flow of musical dynamics.  Hearing him speak can be difficult amidst the noise because, when he speaks softly, we sometimes forget to lean in and listen.  The highs and lows catch you off guard as one moment you don’t have to try hard to hear him and suddenly you are on to the next movement of his grand concerto.  Tenderly, he spoke to me.  I had to listen, to find him despite the noise.  It was heavy; it was hard; he was worth it all.

While I tried to worship the last night, I had come into the night with a weighty spirit and an anxious mind.  I couldn’t get through the fog.  One moment I was having an amazing day after several meaty conversations that contained for me the definition of meaningful relationship with the body of Christ and the next I was struggling.  I felt nothing.  I heard nothing.  I was angered by how I was feeling; it made no sense.  So, I did the only thing I knew how to do.  Turning in my chair, I faced the wall behind me and I tuned in.  I forced myself to get on God’s wavelength.  I don’t know how long I sat like that, but I eventually turned back around for no other reason except that my legs had fallen asleep.  Looking over the room, it was evident that God was there.  I just, for the life of me, couldn’t find him.

Suddenly, I had the urge to write:

“You are my house, God.  You are my home, my firm foundation, and the Rock on which I stand.  Nothing and no one else fills that.  You are filled with every kind of good thing.  I can see your brightness from far off and I am running as fast as I am capable toward you.  It sometimes feels like a crawl.  It feels like my feet are bleeding.  It feels like my lungs are burning.  But, I catch a glimpse of your glory and I remember why I’m running.  Remind us, God, to run the race with perseverance and don’t let us forget the mercy you have on us.  You see every obstacle in our way—from the pebble to the mountain—and they all bow in your holy presence.  We lift our eyes to the hills, to the finish line, and we trust that you have strengthened our feet to carry us that far.  Hold us fast to your path.  Hold us fast to the way in which we should walk.  Carry us on eagles’ wings and strengthen us for the journey.”

Someone came up and spoke to the heaviness in the room, calling it out and calling us all into the presence of God.  I raised my hand when they offered prayer for people who felt weighed down by something.  That prayer called out the spirit of the fear of rejection and the spirit of victimhood in my life.  These attitudes—these spirits—stood before the Just Judge of Heaven and were found guilty of harassment.  I called them out.

The couple, Ana and Reid, who were the speakers/mentors for the weekend then began to offer motherly and fatherly hugs.  I went through both lines.  I recently discovered how much I need physical touch and, man, I needed that.  Ana spoke into the need for emotional release and breakthrough… Nothing happened.  I was excited for the word, not the lack of happening in that moment.  Then, I got to Reid.  It was as if Father God was wrapping his arms around me and releasing something.  Suddenly, Reid was apologizing for every man who ever rejected me.  I had had maybe two brief conversations with him before so I knew it was only God who could’ve opened up that particular box that had been hidden well in the basement of my life.  The release was profound.  I cried a puddle or two in the corner of the room.  I built my home in Him and He was clearly there.