What’s the
most surreal experience you’ve ever had?
*In October of 1997, less than a year after
I moved to Kwajalein, I wrote an essay about my most surreal experience. I actually still have that essay, and I
brought it out just for this prompt. I
have copied it down mostly how I wrote it at the time, leaving out small,
irrelevant bits and editing it as I wrote it out because I can’t help it. Not
surprisingly, my most surreal experience happened in that non-denominational
church I told you about in an earlier entry that I attended when I was a
teenager and young adult in college.
God’s Spirit
Shower
As you walk
into the large, open sanctuary, it resembles a basketball gym more than a place
of worship, but its surface appearance speaks nothing of what goes on inside
each week. The first sounds that leap to
your ears are musical with the beat of the drums, the strum of guitars, and the
chime of piano keys. Excitement is in
the air as the people weave in and out of the aisles, greeting each other with
smiles and hugs. Everyone is getting
ready for the praise and worship part of the ceremony, which I like to call,
God’s Spirit Shower.
There is an
orchestrator on the stage in the front, making sure all the elements come
together. There are greeters at every door ready to welcome you into the flock
with a warm hug, kind word, and sweet smile.
There are worshippers scattered along the stage singing to God, “pour on
us,” welcoming Him into their presence to lead His people as He pleases. It is certainly not quiet. The members of
this particular church announce their praises to God in a boisterous flurry of
raised hands and tearful eyes. There is no set program during this part of the
service because it is lead by the spirit.
As the Spirit begins to move, no one, including the pastors of the
church, know exactly what might occur. There might be healings, speaking in
tongues, testimonies, and most likely, a word from God through one of His people.
If I didn’t
know better, I might tell you that I first came here by accident. After my parent’s divorce, my mom began
attending, and to be with her, I followed. The ways of this church were very
different than anything I had ever experienced in my Baptist upbringing, but I
found it exhilarating! I discovered such genuine devotion in the people who
attended there. At first, I simply observed, never getting too drawn into the
activities or emotions for fear of how crazy others might think I was. But,
gradually, I found myself being pulled into it all, smiling with joy and wiping
my eyes of tears as I witnessed those in the presence of God shouting victory
chants for the MVP who had saved the game and their souls. I laughed as the exciting built into a dance
around the building. God’s anointing was pouring down just as the chanters had
asked for. I cried with those on their knees in the aisles, calling out to Him
for love and praising Him for love received.
Sometimes, I
would still resist the pull of His Spirit and not accept the peace that comes
from God’s love, especially during vulnerable times in my life like the year I
lived with my dad after withdrawing from college for a time. During my childhood years and young
adulthood, my life revolved around my dad. I devoted my time to trying to
please him, even though I didn’t really understand how to do that. I think my own dad may have spent much of his
life trying to please his parents too and did not have the nurturing he so
needed. As a dad himself, he was handicapped in knowing how to love in a way he
never experienced love himself. That being said, I tended to push away from the
love of God because if my own father couldn’t love me (as least that’s how I
felt at the time-unable to please him, which translated into not loving me in
the mind of a young woman), how could the creator of the universe love such a
pathetic creature. I couldn’t accept his
love. I didn’t know how, so I continued to push away and turn into the hardened
shell of a person I believed my dad to be. I spent the first years of my adult
life being the rebellious child I never was. When that shell cracked from all
the pent up emotions and guilt, I withdrew from college and went home to live
with my dad, in an effort to rebuild, to try and put things back exactly where
I thought they should be. That’s when God arrived and broke through my
walls.
I found out
how hard it was to live with my dad as an adult, not really knowing him much
from my childhood. So, my reactions to him were childlike temper tantrums and
running away in rebellion. The situation was worse than ever. I was totally
lost in the world, and at this moment, I found myself back in church with my
mom. When my parents got divorced, I believed with all my heart that God would
bring something good out of it, but it didn’t happen until much later. My dad remarried almost immediately, and at
that time, it felt to me that my dad’s new family was more important to him
than me, and during my visits to his home, I would smile and act like the
strong girl I thought he wanted me to be, but afterwards, I would come home to
my room, curl up on the bed with my stuffed animals and cry myself to sleep,
wondering why my Daddy couldn’t hold me in his arms and love me just as I was.
Of course, even if he did hold me, I wouldn’t have stayed there for long
because I didn’t even feel comfortable when he hugged me back then.
Unfortunately,
being back in his home as an adult, brought the baby girl out in me, and one
night after coming home as late as I could, I snuck past him room and closed
the door to my haven of solitude with a sign of relief that I didn’t have to
speak with him. Night was the only
comforting time for me in that depressing home (my dad had recently gotten
divorced for the 2nd time, so it was a difficult time for him as
well, I’m sure). I knew he wouldn’t get up from his sleep to disturb me, but as
soon as I woke up, my body tensed, listening for his heavy footsteps on the
hardwood floor downstairs. I don’t
believe he enjoyed seeing me either because of my acid tongue and constant
bitter recall of his sins against the family. The difference was that he seemed
unaffected by my words. In my mind, he had all the control.
The night
may have been my solitude, but it was also a time for ghosts of the past to
haunt me and remind me of scars that had not yet healed. One Saturday night, I
lay in bed, curled up like that little girl I still was and cried, although
this time was different than before.
This time I cried not about my father, but about my God. I desired the relationship with Him that He
had always offered, but that I never fully accepted before. I cried out for His
arms to hold me. I became increasingly upset at God because He wasn’t there
physically. I wanted a physical presence there with real arms to wrap me up in.
I cried out for those arms. “Daddy, why can’t you be here to hold me in your
arms. I want that so much. Why can’t you do that. I know you’re here in Spirit,
but it’s just not the same.” That night I fell asleep waiting for a miracle,
crying out to God to rescue me from my solitary nights.
The next
morning at church, I was so sad. A dark
cloud of depression had set right over my heart. I coldly endured the hugs and
smiles from the greeters and my church family. I really just wanted to be
alone. At the very bottom of this self-pity, God spoke directly to me. A young woman leaped to the front, anxious to
share with the church the word God was speaking to her at that very moment. I
half listened being so used to hearing His words spoken in front of me, but
this time the Holy Spirit shook me up.
Though this servant, a petite woman almost totally blocked from my view
in the back, God said, “I do want to hold you in my arms; I long to hold you,
and I love you. I love you as if you were my only child.” His ONLY child. Immediately tears poured down my face. I had
longed to be loved by a father in this way, to be some man’s precious little
girl, for all my life. All this time, I didn’t realize that I had the most loving
father in the world. Never before or
since has God answered my prayers so directly.
God had brought me, almost accidentally, to a place I never would have
come on my own, a congregation I never would have expected to love so dearly,
and a blessing I could have received anywhere, but He chose here, and it made
all the difference.
God is
everywhere for me now….the swaying of the trees, the motion of the waves, the
voices of children, and in the hearts of all those who long for a love they’ve
never had. A church like the one described above, well, it may be what some
call fanatical, and it would cause many people to walk right out upon the first
healing or foreign tongue spoken, but only God knows what you need and how to
touch your heart and change your life for the better.
*A final note: This was originally written
during a very tumultuous time in my life. My relationship with my biological
dad now is much, much different, and the wisdom I have gained in the years
since taught me that much of what I thought and felt about my dad wasn’t the
reality of the situation. Today, God has
shown me that I have 2 fathers who love me very, very much!! J
