Ecclesia People

A few weeks ago I learned of a major event taking place in Los Angeles that coincided with the 110th anniversary of the Azusa Street Revival. Sponsored by Lou Engle and The Call, Azusa Now came about through a unique series of revelatory dreams, prophetic words, and a great deal of sacrifice from one leader. While reading Matthew 13, Lou Engle heard the Lord say to sell his house and purchase the field for the event. Quite a faith-filled act.

Even as a self-described charismatic (a subdued charismatic though), there are still things about this event that feel over the top to me. It’s also easy to dismiss some of this as a great deal of hype coinciding with the anniversary of the Azusa Street Revival, even though to the faith-filled heart, there are many supernatural circumstances that came together to bring this about. The hope is that over 100,000 people will gather to pray for revival, the unity of the church, and for God’s miraculous outpouring. The whole assertion of a big gathering to pray for revival easily touches the skeptic in me. When I think back historically, none of the great awakenings or revivals seemed to start by a large meeting. In fact, they mostly seem unplanned, but yet born out of a great deal of almost invisible prayer from disciple to disciple and congregation to congregation.

The question that has caught me though as I have tried to find myself leaning into this moment is – “Do You Want Revival Chris?” “Would You Really Like To See It Happening?” Do I want to see people come to Christ and experience the power of Jesus? Do I want to see bible studies over-filled with people yearning to engage the scriptures? Do I want to see healings take place and miracles occur? Do I want to see the church growing and thriving with a humble, Christ-like authority? Do I want to see our tremendous racial barriers broken in our nation? Wouldn’t I want it? These are all the fruits of revival.

Among many leaders of the variety that pay attention to Ecclesia or Missio Alliance or anywhere in the “missional” conversation, my guess would be that your response to something like this wouldn’t be very different than mine. Like me, you may have to work yourself through your first, second, and maybe even third layers of skepticism to get to the point in your heart where you would come to realize that actually you do want it to. Even if you don’t think it will happen, hopefully you would want an awakening to occur.

I remember Dallas Willard telling me that the first question he would ask any skeptical philosophy student who would walk into his office is “Do you want there to be a God? And, if so, would you want Him to be like Jesus”? Of course, his point was that our mind (and therefore our actions) will have a hard time being open to that which our heart is closed toward. So, here, I ask to my wide-ranging friends who somehow find themselves around the “missional” conversation, Do you want, in your heart, a great awakening? If so, could you begin to pray for it? Even if you pray in a way that would protect you from disappointment if it doesn’t happen?

Now that I’ve realized that I really do hope that something happens, I can pray that something will happen. And, I can pray in a way that unashamedly asks Jesus to pour our His Spirit upon His people and our land. Would you join me? And if that skeptic in your rears its head, ask yourself, “don’t I want this?” I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t.

This post was written by a member of Life on the Vine, an Ecclesia congregation in suburban Chicago.

On October 30, 2004, I found out that my mom had died earlier that morning.  At seven years old that put me into a pit of grief; which I’ve struggled with for the past eight years.  I would have many nights where I would cry myself to sleep and days where I would take out my anger on my brother, sister and anybody that I could without getting in trouble for doing so.  For several years I tried to work through my pain counseling and some other things, but not much seemed to help.  My dad got remarried in 2008 and I felt sad because in my mind, a new mother meant that I had to leave behind the old one, which was a lie that I thankfully later had my eyes opened to.

Over the past few years I have been having long painful conversations with my parents and other family members about my grief.  Often I would break down into tears and sobbing.  At some point I realized that it was as if I had been paying a penance for my mom’s death that I didn’t need to pay.  I felt guilty about being happy and alive while my mom was dead.  Unfortunately, realizing this didn’t mean it was over; I still had more work to do.

Fast forward to this past summer, when I was part of the Youthworks mission team that went to Oklahoma.  While I was there I was able to share my struggles about my mom’s death with my teammates.  Through that I learned to trust non-family members with this heartache.  I felt supported in my struggle and that I had the team’s understanding.  During the trip my relationship with God had been renewed.  I then felt God wrapping me in His love and I knew that somehow I’d make it through.

When October came around this year, I was nervous that it would end up being a pit of despair like every other October had been so far.  Through talking with my dad I was lead to be at peace with the fact that God didn’t owe me an answer as to why she died.  If God wants me to know why my mom died, He’ll tell me, if not, He won’t.  Another thing that helped was that I was able to just think about all the good memories and most importantly about how far I had come from the little boy in the corner worried that everything that could go wrong would.  I also realized, and applied, the fact that just because my mom died doesn’t mean that I did.  I’ve still got a life to live right in front of me.  I now know that I can be sad and grieve her death and not lose hope.

One thing that really helped me was the All Saints Day service that we had a few weeks ago.  It helped me to see that I’ll see my mom one day when there’s no death, sorrow or sickness.  At first it was hard to think of her from a perspective of hope and joy after years of thinking about her with despair and cynicism.  Though I didn’t mention her name when we named those who have gone before us, just bringing her picture and setting it on the altar with the others was another step out of my hole.  I still have those times when grief overwhelms me and I just have to take in sadness like an old friend, have it over for a while and send it out after a day or two; but thankfully God carries me through those days just like He did through the eight years that I felt like a dead man walking. I still have to keep working on this but God has carried me this far and I can say that God has and still is redeeming my life in the midst of this tough situation.