Cocooning

Before moving to Minnesota, I was involved in a small group biblestudy through a small Anglican church in the Chicago area. The leaders of our group were a retired couple, and we met in their home several times a month to read and discuss a shared book together. The mix of 10 or so people was interesting. I was the youngest one of the group (I think I was 28 years old at the time). Everyone else was in their mid-40's or 50's, married, and attending group as couples. I was in the early years of my marriage, but attended the group by myself. (Redeeming the Christian Soul through Healing Prayer wasn't a title that appealed to Rich at the time. Even ten years later we continue to be inspired by completely different things.)


I keep a photograph in my bible that reminds me of this unusual small group experience. It's a 3x5 with rosy-cheeked me sandwhiched between two older gentlemen. My hair was long, straight and stringy at the time, without bangs. And as if trying to emphasize how wrong the "no-bang" look was for me, I made matters worse by pulling my hair half-up into a tight barrette. The man on my right wore age spots like freckles and the roundness of his face was exaggerated by a well-slicked comb-over. Our leader, Dave, was on my left and he towered over me with his large build, wearing thick, over-sized, black-framed glasses.


It's not a "great" picture by any means. But, I keep it as a reminder of an important evening and a significant exchange I had with Dave. . .


Dave and his wife had a pentecostal perspective on things. They had a strong sense of God's spirit about them, and they were very enthusiastic about the way they saw God's Spirit moving world-wide. Through key friends and connections, they often provided updates on spiritual revivals happening overseas. And within our group they prayed fervently that revival would visit churches and communities in the U.S. Their way of knowing God and looking at the world was different from my own, but I respected the wisdom of their years, their earnestness, and their sensitivity to God's lead.


One evening, as we closed a lively discussion about the Holy spirit, Dave and his wife invited the group to pray for a fresh falling of God's spirit, and particularly that this gift would manifest itself in the ability to speak in tongues. Now, I don't know what everyone else in the group was thinking, but even as a "youngster" theologically I was not in agreement with the idea that "tongues" was a gift everyone was meant to have, nor did I believe that speaking in a "God-given" language was the main sign of Spirit in our lives. . . but I was willing to go along with anything. As Dave led the group in prayer, I sat quietly on a rose-printed couch with my hands cupped in my lap--open to receiving anything God might give.


The night's agenda had already gone long, and Dave's beseeching prayers seemed to go on forever. He kept encouraging those of us in the group to "just try saying something." But none of us did. It wasn't long before my mind was out the door and driving home. Although Dave and his wife's prayers were full of faith and fervor, I sensed that they were a bit discouraged when nobody in the group broke out into any Spirit-spoken "humma-lummas." And so finally, and graciously, they finished praying and let us go home.


And then something weird happened. I walked toward the front door, and Dave pulled me aside. He said with authority, "I have a word for you from the Lord." I was a bit shocked that he would have something specifically for me. I wondered if he was going to chastize me for not being open enough to God's gifts or his spirit. But, he simply looked at me through his thick glasses and said, "Speak."


"Okay," I said hesitantly, my eyes searching his, wondering if there was more. But, Dave didn't expound.


"Just speak," he reiterated.


I wasn't sure what it meant, but I sensed this "word" was important. At that very moment, someone in the group interrupted us and asked for a picture. It's the very picture I keep in my bible, with "speak" still whispering in my soul every time I see it.

Since that night, I have not been given the gift of tongues, but this "call" to "speak" has played out in my life in so many ways.

Sometimes "speak" has meant speaking up in a group of friends--especially when what I have to say is sort of "out there"--and my heart is pounding with nervousness about how my words might be received.

"Speak" has also meant "write." And through the discipline of writing, God has been healing me of generational/life wounds that tell me I have no voice, nothing important to say.

And within the last few years, God's call on my life has brought me to the speaking circuit as a platform for Walk With Me and Play With Me. Sharing my personal stories in the public arena has been fraught with personal battles that make me want to run the other way. But, I sense I am being obedient when I say, "yes." And so I go where the opportunities arise.

It's amazing how one little word from God can move through the layers of our lives over time, changing, shaping and re-creating us. One little word!

It is with a sense of relief and thankfulness that I sense I am finally coming to the end of my public speaking journey. In what new directions might God be calling, leading? For friends and audience members who lovingly argue that my speaking journey is NOT over and that quitting would be wasting a gift, I like to say. . .

"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm done. But, I'm also waiting with open ears, willing to let God speak."