I’ve told God, “No,” before.  I’ve played the part of Jonah so perfectly I’m sure he would’ve been shaking his head had he seen and heard.  It was at seminary, a time I was not a fan of.  He told me oh so clearly to pray for it and all the people there.  5 years of rubbish save a couple classes and I had no room for even entertaining the idea.  I felt so abandoned by Him, my mind was like, “No, You don’t get to speak to me now, and not for them.”  But only after so many years did I realize His silence was a test, a test I failed miserably.

What’s it like to work against God?  What is it like to say “No” to Him who gives life?  And for what?  Because it seemed like I was more offended at what they were doing than He was?  Didn’t I know that He knew exactly what was going on and that along with the world and every thing in the universe, He’s got it and knows what needs to be done about it?  At the time, I would have said “yes, I know”, but it felt to me that for whatever reason He was cutting off the branch He put me on.  Betrayed, abandoned, mocked, this was but a minuscule portion of the path Jesus walked.  I was such a wimp, a crybaby in the grand scheme of things.  What I should have considered an honor, like my brothers today and so long ago who were killed for walking His path, I considered as failure on His part.  O how ridiculous I was that I felt I could even utter the words of Jesus when He said, “Why have You forsaken me?”  But it truly was what it felt like.

O I did pray, I pronounced the most binding curse upon the place that I could think of.  I wanted it to crumble, I wanted no trace of it left behind.  “A little much?” you might ask.  Possibly.  To me they were a source of poison, poison that would infect His Kingdom, poison that, as it seems, fits perfectly in the path America is currently on.  What did He want me to pray for?  Revival.

Since those days, I have repented and prayed for the place.  Pathetic prayers, much like the eight words Jonah uttered in obedience to Nineveh, Jonah 3:4, but I was too late.  When I hear the stories of others who were there, some became drunks, others chose a life of sin, and still others viewed their days there as very dark and depressing.  Could my prayers, had I been obedient, made any difference?  I may never know.  They had a prayer room, in the 5 years I attended I never heard of its use.

I have heard that the place has fallen on hard times, do I rejoice?  I am not able.  Who knows what could have become of it had I prayed what and when He told me to?  Who knows what stories could have been told of the place if it had changed from a source of poison to a source of life?  I don’t.  Is it a bit megalomaniac of me to think in such ways?  Had I prayed, it may not have come to pass, but I would have accomplished for myself a peace that only comes from obedience.

Years ago, when I was performing concerts at churches, coffee shops, etc., I met a man who opened the door to a whole new level.  He invited me to perform my music for inmates in the jails and prisons around Lansing.  This man showed me how to interact with the inmates, how to shake their hands, what to watch out for, and most of all how to not be afraid.  When I began, my prayers covered me in ways I didn’t even consider for the church concerts.  I began to reach for more power than just remembering my words and not screwing up.  Prayers for a successful concert changed from hearts being opened to straight out supernatural breakthrough.

I was given the opportunity to perform before rooms full of people who have broken the law in various ways.  Some of the prisons were quite hospitable, others at different times were hostile.  It’s a different kind of rude when you know your audience has very little to lose if they decide to silence you after the guards leave, and one particular time it almost came to that.

The event room had both the males and females together, and I began to play for them.  Now I played acoustic guitar and it’s highly likely my folk/whatever style was not what most of them would have chosen to listen to.  And it wasn’t long before I started to lose them.  Any semblance of order was gone the minute the guards left.  At that point, it was just me and them.

I kept playing and singing in the mic while they started laughing and shouting things over me.  I want to tell you about something that happened in me that I don’t believe was from myself.  As these days get darker we may find ourselves in front of all kinds of mobs.  Luke 12:11-12 speaks of how the Holy Spirit will give us what to say during such times.

A fire rose up in me when I thought about what I was missing out on with my wife and kids that night while I was wasting my time with those ungrateful reprobates.  A thought to just pack up and leave passed my mind and I almost did that, but I believe the Spirit kept me there.  I stopped playing and just looked around at all of them.  As I did, a portion of silence came over them.  It was then that I began to talk, saying such things like, “If you can’t sit and listen for 1 hour why don’t you go back to your cells,” etc.  I don’t really remember all I said because at that point I’m not sure I was speaking.  I do remember my heart saying, “I came in hopes that you would be blessed in some way.”  I think something about my family and what I’d rather be doing got in there too.  Mentioning Matthew 25:36 and how Jesus invites us to go to them finished out my impromptu sermon.

All I can really remember is the absolute silence when I finished and some of the looks the more unsavory characters gave me.  I looked right back, I didn’t back down an inch.  I started to play again when the guards came back and called me out of there.  I had to walk down the center aisle through all the prisoners to get to the exit. Some of them didn’t let up their glare the entire way, but as I made my way the fire did not leave me and the rest gave me a standing ovation.

As the days pass and bring us closer to His 2nd coming, take a breath and relax.  He’s got us.  We may lose our seat of honor in this nation, but not in His Kingdom.

I attended college back in the ’90s.  It was at a religious institution on the outskirts of Lansing proper.  It’s where I met my wife and many of the friends I still have today.  Such an interesting time.  Here I was, at a place supposed to be for the training of ministers and missionaries during the time of life when people traditionally reject rules and authority while learning by experience lessons of why there are rules in the first place.  Personally, I broke every rule that I thought was dumb, and there were many of those.  Paybacks were that 5 years after graduating, I came back and took the job enforcing many of those same rules.

During the time when I was a student, we began to see opportunities to advance the Kingdom in a nearby secular university, MSU.  We would go over to the campus and pray for students.  One time a friend of mine lead us to pray over a “coming-out of the closet” party.  Another time we came and picked a spot to find someone to tell about Jesus.  Mine was with a guy that worked at one of the student stores. At the time, he was an atheist/Buddhist/etc.  We continued to meet, he asked me to come back, and we talked about Jesus.  His eyes began to open to God’s goodness.  He didn’t claim Jesus as Lord that I know of, but the foolishness of atheism became apparent to him, Psalm 14:1, he no longer claimed to be an atheist, amen.

Another time, when Betsy and I went together, we came across a long line of students waiting to head into a bar.  They were talking and laughing and the Spirit told me to interrupt them, so I did.  In a loud voice, I shouted, “Excuse me, excuse me!  Would anyone like prayer for anything?”  The whole line instantly quieted and looked at me.  Boy, you could write books describing each of those looks.  I purposely didn’t pay it any mind and stuck to my guns.  “Anything?”  I’d been getting requests for sick relatives, upcoming exams, and travel when I would ask individuals, but this time before the line I was surprised by the wisdom of one of the students when he meekly said, “Please pray that we all make it back to our dorms safely.”  So Betsy and I stepped to the side and prayed.

It didn’t cost me any money, it didn’t cost them any money.  I wasn’t judgmental and didn’t ridicule them, I truly only wanted to show them His love.  I rarely know of any results from anything I’ve ever done, but I imagine that at least that one guy had it in his mind to be wise with his consumption.

I only share these stories to hopefully reveal during these dark times that God continues to work and provides strength to do even the ridiculous.  Among some of the most hardened sinners, God’s love is so beautiful and life-giving that its goodness protects while it advances.  Trust in Him, now this hasn’t always been my thought and daily I get tested over it, but He never fails, Deuteronomy 31:8.

Back in 2002, I helped plant a church in Simpsonville, SC.  Betsy and I were recently married and were choosing a place to live.  We chose to live in an apartment.  During our time there I met some very interesting people, and had a crazy experience I won’t soon forget.

We were on the bottom floor in a corner with neighbors above, beside, and behind.  My goal was to make relationships there and evangelize.  I figured it would speak for itself as the Kingdom would change a dangerous place into a community of love.  That vision was sorely tested.  The neighbor next to us was a soft-core porn photographer of high school girls.  He would try to show me his portfolio when we talked, no clue why parents brought their daughters to him.  I would steer our conversation to Jesus and to my neighbor’s trike, of which he was very proud.  Above us lived drug dealers and behind us chain smokers who would fill our apartment with the love.

One day the drug dealers were in an argument with the porn photographer and they both came to me to help them figure it out.  They all knew who I was and why I was there, plus I had long hair at the time which made me the apartment hippie preacher.  I remember talking about how we all were living together and had to have patience with each other, etc.  They kept a tenuous peace from then on, till the cops came.  Late one night the police surrounded the building we were in and raided the room above us.  It was pretty exciting till I looked at all the guns and noticed where I was standing.  I quickly ran back to the bedroom which was further down and out of the line of fire.  I woke Betsy up and we watched as the drug dealers were brought down and forced to the pavement, hands behind their heads.

I don’t know what happened to those guys, but for a moment they gave me an authoritative role in their life that I wouldn’t have had without Jesus.  It wasn’t the answer to prayer I was looking for but I still am believing seeds were planted, Mark 4:1-9.  Now whether they were fertile soil or not isn’t for me to say.  And though the parable doesn’t speak of soil having the ability to change its character, knowing as I do the story of Paul, Acts 9:1-19 and that of many other friends of mine, I know it does and can.

Another physical manifestation of the spiritual incarceration was when just after midnight one of my neighbor’s big Rottweilers started barking at the partiers next door to it.  The dog was just two or three doors down from me, but between the barks and the partiers yelling back at it, there would be no sleep till something was done.  So I waited and prayed then felt a leading to take one of my dog’s rawhides over to it.  

When I walked out there, I saw the poor huge beast barking fiercely but I could tell it was scared.  The partiers, drunk, drugged up, or just cruel yelled and threw stuff at  it.  I walked up calmly to the pup and spoke softly to it.  It barked at me suddenly as if it didn’t know I was there.  I reached out to it and held out the rawhide.  The partiers quieted down a little and no longer seemed interested in the dog, either that or they were waiting to see if it would eat me.  The pup ran back toward the garage door, and sat with its back to it while continuing to bark at me.  I kept my distance and tossed it the rawhide.  It quickly and quietly started chewing on it.  By then the partiers had gone and silence returned.

I went home reflecting on what just happened and it occurred to me that the way to treat the beast was not to scream and shout like the partiers, but to show it love.  It reminds me of the Gerasene Demoniac in Mark 5:1-20.  Jesus freed a tortured man who was possessed by demons and had been put in chains till he broke them apart.  By casting the demons out He gave the man true freedom and returned him to his right mind.

I knew the way for this revival would be through love, and I was determined to not let fear bark my prayers away.

We got to know an older lady neighbor of ours who we began taking to church.  She filled us in on so much:  from the neighborhood cat lady (every place has one) to the stories of the other neighbors.  I told her of my prayers for the area and it brought tears to her eyes.

I witnessed people in black robes walk the street.  No matter how people could explain them, they were menacing and carried with them a dark demeanor.  I would wave at everyone, even the black robers and mostly got shocked looks in return.  As I prayed freedom from the works of Satan for my street, I didn’t see the black robes anymore.

I only witnessed one gang fight that was brewing as we tried to drive by.  No guns thankfully but baseball bats and broken bottles were held in their hands as they marched toward each other.  A young girl was yelling obscenities at the incoming group, she seemed to be the instigator.  I began praying for peace, the girl shut up and the fight broke apart before it even started, amen.

As I was beginning to see, it looks like we have two choices in life when things get dark- we can be either victims or victors.  I’ve heard that before, but in my own journey from fear for my family to faith in what He was guiding me to do, living in fear was just too hard and oppressive but trusting Him and His Holy Spirit brought me life and power.  Fear would have kept me inside with no sleep.  Going out revealed a better and greater way.

Freeing the “demoniac” of my neighborhood through the love of Christ was not any goal of mine, but it became one.

Wherever we move to, I’ve begun to see it as Kingdom placement. For almost two years we lived in a place that was rated as having a 300% above the state average for rape and various other illegal activities including b&e, aggravated assault, larceny, etc. I prayed daily against fear and for protection every time I’d drive down the street.  I prayed over my wife and daughter and kept an eagle eye over anything that moved. After a while of that my heart grew for my neighbors as I got to know them. I began to pray over their lives as well, but I never stopped having an eagle eye.

Then some of the history of the area came out. I found out that my neighbor had killed himself in his garage which was in easy view  from our backyard. During his life he had illegal dog fights in his basement. I don’t know why he killed himself, just that he did.

When I came to this place, it was not one I wanted to live in. We had many difficulties with the house and then my own physical disabilities also kicked in making me feel even more trapped and in danger. We had followed His leading to this place, and daily I struggled with Him about it, and in that struggle was born a desire to pray and see things change.

Down the street, there was a drain that got plugged with leaves whenever it would rain. This was to me a physical example of the spiritual condition that I was confronted with. No one did anything about it. That part of the street flooded so much you’d have to go around the block to get in from the other side. Everyone knew what part of town we lived in and they all stayed inside because of fear. I drove my car up to it, got out and unplugged the drain. The homeowners on that lot let their dogs out first who charged at me, but thankfully they were behind a fence. It was the part of town where people had chain link fences all over their property, no one cared how it looked. Chains and locks were everywhere. When I unplugged that drain, the water rushed down so fast it scared me and I backed up. The homeowner must have figured out what I was doing and called his dogs back, but he never came out to say “Hi” or “Thank you”.

God spoke to me through that, He pointed out as it happened that all that needed to happen was to unplug it and the drain would take care of the rest. Likewise “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14.  If I prayed, He would do the rest.

I began to pray for revival for everyone on my street, and on the next one and the next and so on everyday we drove by for those two years. If the drain was stopped up for the presence of the Lord then I considered my prayers to be a plumber, and I was excited for such an outpouring of the Spirit that would scare me.

After the two years, a door to move opened and we took it. I looked up the crime in the area of the place we were leaving one more time. I may not have seen the Revival I prayed for, but the map that was full of illegal activity two years ago was totally clear save one drunk driver on the outer edges of the mile radius.

Some of you, so tragically few, who are awake know that from school shootings to the sex slave trade, from cutting to abortions, (our two generations have had millions murdered, they could have been our best friends, we’ll never know), from beheadings to narcissism beyond apathy, porn- the biggest industry it’s ever been, homosexual marriages to the transgender movement, definitions being rewritten, and the Church’s voice getting drowned out with shouts of “Bigot!”, many are lost in the noise.

A mindset is growing that religion is the cause of all hate. It’s just like Satan to want the only source of love and salvation, the only hope for any of us, to be discarded as something evil. And yet, Jesus continues to love. He still walks on top of the waves and through any prison doors. He still rescues the drowning and sets the captives free. But what if an entire generation commits the blasphemy of the Holy Spirit? Are they all damned with no hope of rescue? Do we write them off salvifically with thoughts so akin to Hezekiah’s, “At least we know we’re safe.” It is so easy to write people off, or is it? Or even worse, do we ignore the obvious and pretend everyone is fine?

Love itself suffers at our inaction, they don’t know its power. So much greater than tolerance, love has always been about sacrifice. Tolerance rescues no one but lets them suffer as we tolerate their agony. They redefine love from the perspective of abused children making what would actually save them into poison and poison into life preservers. Sacrifice makes us turn our boats back to the sinking Titanic. Sacrifice means we may not make it, and others less deserving of this life do. Were any of us any better when Jesus gave His life for us? Were any of us deserving His sacrifice? He thought so.

So what? Well, they learned apathy from someone. They want to live as if they are entitled to an easy life, but as violence escalates and atrocities abound, the only thing we are entitled to is breaking out all around us. Doing nothing is tantamount to the actions of the vilest tyrant in these final days. Let us join together and give a better picture, a better definition of the love that Jesus came to give. One that isn’t divisive, competitive, and self-destructive. John 17:20-23 is so radical and prophetically amazing.

In the words of Bonnie Rait, “Let’s give them something to talk about.”