Come Aside

Have you ever noticed that there are places where it seems that heaven is closer? Places where the supernatural is expected, where the voice of God seems louder and clearer, places where you wouldn’t bat an eye if miracles happen, and places where the scriptures open easily, freely sharing their treasures of revelation.

At Christmas, the incarnation, the Father gives the Son. On the Easter weekend, the Son gives Himself. At Pentecost, the Father and Son give the Spirit. Yet, for many of us, and in many streams of the Church, while Christmas and Easter are wonderfully celebrated, Pentecost— the celebration of the giving of the Spirit— is a non-event.

I’ve been praying the Lord’s Prayer, daily, and in an expanded way, for ten years now. It has shaped and discipled my prayer life in ways I could hardly imagine, and I consider it one of God’s greatest gifts to me personally. Maybe you, likewise, find the Spirit uses this cornerstone prayer to guide your devotional prayer or intercession. Each petition is rich with the gospel, leading us to life and life to the full.

On the Westcoast we are right in the middle of spring. Green shoots and flowers are exploding everywhere as we alternate between stormy, rainy days and days that are a preview of summer, with kids in shorts playing in the streets and backyard barbeques sizzling. It’s my favourite time of year. It reminds me that His mercies are ever new, for each year, and for each generation. So much hope. Every winter ends. Every nighttime gives way to morning.

As I’ve been reading and meditating on the opening of the book of Exodus over the last few weeks, the stunning developments in Venezuela and Iran have provided a dramatic backdrop, making me consider this story from a different angle. The familiar account of how God rescued Israel from Egypt is one of the most riveting scenes in scripture and was meant to forever be a reminder of God’s power, His covenant with His people, and His justice.

We are less than two weeks away from my favourite service of the year— Ash Wednesday. I wrote about it last year in a really well received article entitled, Beloved Dust—check it out! Ash Wednesday launches us into the season of Lent, where the Church spends 40 days making space for the Lord to reground us and to address areas of sin or foolishness in our lives that we had been too busy, or disinclined to notice.

If I were to be honest, I’d confess I’ve had a love-hate relationship with prophecy. It’s a gift of the Spirit that God has used to profoundly bless and guide me—I’ve experienced its power and beauty and am forever grateful. Yet, I’ve also been wearied with what has been called prophecy, yet is more like a clanging gong, or a mouth full of chaff instead of nourishing grain—words which are trying to be prophecy but which are only human ideas, hopes, or even judgements.

Last week, my husband and I spent 4 days at a friend’s cottage in the Gulf Islands. These are the little islands between Vancouver Island and Vancouver. They are a perfect example of Westcoast life, rocky beaches, glorious ocean views, forests, hemlocks, arbutus, cedars, and all kinds of wildlife from eagles to otters and orcas. Incredibly peaceful and picturesque.

The Church has been going through a season of cleansing. It’s been rough, humbling, and disconcerting, as leaders in particular have been exposed for teaching serious error or for living a compromised life. The prophetic movement has been very impacted by this cleansing. We’ve really needed it, so much has gone awry, so much has been corrupted, that the end result is that this once dynamic movement has been reduced to a trickle.

“And now Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus.” Act 4:29 In a hostile political environment, with a very real possibility of martyrdom hanging over their heads, the first Apostles turned to the Lord for the supernatural boldness that they needed to continue to preach.