Don't Think I Can't Communicate With You

Having been through the exciting yet often subjective world of Charismatic churches, I've grown leery (and weary) of people who have frequent leadings from God; especially when they appear contrary to scripture or just plain "out of someone's creative imagination."

However, I never want to sell God short on what He can do to impress Himself on mere humans. Even Charles Spurgeon once said that all the teachings or ordinances of the church can't replace the presence of God. They become like a sundial on a cloudy day. In other words, useless. Pretty strong speech for a strong reformed Baptist like C H Spurgeon. 

So with this mind-set I set myself up for God to move in my world and rock my consciousness!
And He did.

It was last night. At a Lord's Supper service out in the country in a camp setting. I and many other ministers and pastors worshiped together and then someone besides us administered the Supper.
It was a warm, blessed atmosphere, and I was pleasantly surprised how blessed I was to be a part of it.
I went forward picked a piece of motzah and a small cup of juice and headed back to my seat.

I ate the bread while climbing a couple rows up in this outdoor rock amphitheater, where people were spread out and few were sitting very close to another. As I sat I raised the cup to drink and  stopped short as a strangled cry rose up though my throat. I got a grip, got in control, telling myself that this service was more for the three young men who had joined our ranks in this learning group we were all part of. I was afraid if I made any noise I would become the center of attention, drawing focus away from Christ and these new inductees.

As I started to drink it happened again only this time it turned into a sob. It lingered and my shoulders and whole body seemed to be weeping.
I didn't know why.
Then I remember a story of Luther, when he was a young Catholic minister, saying his very first Mass. When he got to the words "This is my body", where the wine, that he held up in a chalice, would turn into the actual blood of Christ, he stopped and was immobile for sometime until he mumbled himself through the rest of the the Mass.
Later when asked what happened he said at that moment when the wine would be turned to blood he realised his inadequacy to hold the perfect innocent blood of Christ. That his dirty, sinful hands would hold the cup of God was overwhelming to him.

But there I was holding grape juice, knowing it was only grape juice and weeping because of my unworthiness to hold even that; much less handle God's word everyday. Or, to use my sinful brain to contemplate scripture and to use my sinful lips to proclaim it. I was just sobbing before the Lord.

Then it was as if the Lord was pushing me slowly but firmly down to my knees to worship before Him. I didn't see Jesus, I didn't feel His hand on my shoulder. I was just aware than in my heart I was weeping for mercy and grace had set me free. A burden seemed lifted. A sin removed. An oppression evaporated into thin air.

Then, as I was kneeling in my heart before the Lord, it was as if He said, "So, you don't think I can communicate with you?"
Part of me thought, "I never said tha!." But another part of me just said "Yes Lord, you can."

We don't decide when God will show up. We can plan, but God keeps His own counsel. Man proposes, God disposes.

Blessed Be His Name.

One other note, before the burden lifted off my shoulders, two sweet sisters came and prayed for me. Not to counsel or ask questions, just to pray as God did His business with me. Thanks!