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I went to the healing rooms again last week.

Again, God met me in a way I had never met Him before. I knew I had to go there; that God hadn’t finished with me yet, but I didn’t really know what to expect.

As always, the prayer partners met me with words that I knew came from God; they always pray before they come out to greet you, and then they pray with you you. Every time I have met with them, they have always had a word for me, or a picture for me that confirms that they have spoken to God, and that God has spoken truth to them.

This time the woman said to me, “When I was praying, I got a picture. It was a hurricane, or tornado… you know how there is a still, quiet place at the centre? That’s where you are, and the wind is raging all around you, but God has you there, at the centre.”

I started to cry, because for weeks, when ever I pray, I get a picture that I am in a glass cylinder that’s standing in the palm of God’s hand, and the wind is howling around me, but I am safe. And I keep calling out to my friends who are fighting in the wind, to come in where it is safe and peaceful. “Come in here!” I yell, “God is here. Right here!there’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

Moments like that confirm to me that God is working.

And then we prayed together. We prayed for the healing and restoration of my liver; we prayed for the cancer to leave my body; we prayed for God to fill me and my family to overflowing.

And then came something I was sort of expecting, but not really.

I knew that God wanted me there that day, and that He had something for me that day. The last time I had been to the healing rooms, I knew that He had met me in a deep and profound way, but I hadn’t quite let down all my defences. I had opened up to Him on a deeper level than ever before, but I had still held back that tiny bit.

WHY? Why do we hold out on God? Why are we so afraid to let Him in completely? What are we afraid of? Or let me just speak for myself, because maybe I’m alone in this. What am I afraid of?

Before I came to faith in Jesus Christ, I had a friend who often invited me to church activities, and I always declined. I was afraid then, that God would GET me. I don’t even know what I meant by that, but those were always the words that came to mind: “God will get me.” I don’t know if I thought He would change me, or get inside me, or make me do things I didn’t want to do, or what. But I always knew that if I went to church, God would GET me.

I was both attracted to, and horrified by the idea. In one sense, I WANTED God to get me. I had always believed that He existed, and I craved more; but on the other hand, He was so mysterious that I dreaded being GOT by Him. What if He didn’t like what He saw? What if He destroyed me, like He did the people in Noah’s day? (I was secretly haunted by the illustrations I had seen in a children’s Bible at my dentist’s office – pictures of terrified, drowning people begging for mercy while Noah and his family floated away in the ark. What if this mean, silvery bearded God had no mercy for me?)

Eventually, God DID get me. And He DID change me, and get inside me, and ask me to do things that made me uncomfortable. But it wasn’t what I had imagined. It wasn’t horrifying.

But I think I always held out on Him a bit. I think that old fear made me hold out on Him, and deny Him access to my innermost being. I let Him in a bit, but not completely.

I never wanted to lose control. I feared the Holy Spirit’s power.

But after praying at the healing rooms, the woman said to me, “Have you ever been baptized by the Holy Spirit?”

I’m not going to get into the theology of anything here, except to say that I knew that the Holy Spirit lived within me because by faith I had received the gift of salvation God had given me all those years ago. But, I also knew that I had never allowed the Holy Spirit to have full reign in my heart. I had always held something back. I had always felt a check; a nervousness; I had left a guard because I was afraid of letting go, of losing control.

But that day, I knew it was time to say, “Yes.” to God with no reservations.

So, I told her that I had not been baptized by the Holy Spirit, that I had never spoken in a different tongue, but I wanted to. I wanted to be filled, and I was ready.

She explained that the language I would receive was really a prayer language to be used between me and God – it was a language for prayer, and praise, and supplication. It was a language that would help me express to God all those inexpressible thoughts and feelings, and requests that we feel so deeply, but cannot express in words. These new words express them, and God understands.

So, I asked God to baptize me, and to give me the gift of speaking in tongues.

And then my two prayer partners began to pray in their languages; the woman sang, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard, like some angelic chorus.

I didn’t know what to do. I kept saying, “I don’t know how.” And she kept saying, “You don’t have to know how. Just open your mouth.”

And then, she asked God to remove my fear. To help me give up, let go, open to Him.

And then I felt the wind.

It rushed through my head, and it was hot, like fire.

And I opened my mouth and spoke words I had never spoken before. And somehow I knew that I was speaking right to the heart of God. He heard me, and He understood me.

I wept.

We prayed and cried, and prayed and cried for a long time. And when it was done, I felt so quiet, and peaceful; exhausted, but at rest. I knew that God had a purpose for me that day, and that’s why I had felt such an urge to go to the rooms that day. He wanted me to give myself to Him finally, and without reservation.

I’ve always known that there have been some things in my heart that I haven’t been willing to give over to God. Sins that I thought I could keep. Nothing big, or horrific, except that they kept me from fully opening to God. So, in that sense, HUGE.
I think I felt that I had given most things to God, and it wouldn’t hurt to keep these. I convinced myself that I had tried to give them up, but I just couldn’t. I convinced myself that they didn’t hurt anyone but me anyway, so they didn’t really matter. I said to God, “I can’t let go,” but what I really meant was, “I WON’T let go. I WON’T give them up. They are mine, and I am going to keep them.”

But God has been doing a mighty work in my heart. He is searching me out, trying me, challenging me, cleansing me.

It’s funny that when you come to the end of yourself, God is there. And He gently teaches, and asks, and guides, and changes. What I thought I couldn’t give up, just went without me even fighting anymore. Suddenly the things I was holding on to seemed so insignificant, so stupid in the face of eternity. How could I hold on to THAT thought, or THAT desire instead of God? What could THOSE things possibly have for me that God didn’t have? How could I continue to say, “I won’t!” to the God who suffered and died for me; to the God who said, “I will,” for me?

And then I thought of Isaiah 55:
“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you, who have no money, come buy and eat! Come, buy wine and and milk without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labour on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.”

I’ve spent so much of my resources on bread that does not satisfy, and I’ve filled my minds with thoughts that may delight for a moment, but have no lasting value. And now, here at the end of all things, I begin to see as I’ve never seen before, that God and God alone satisfies the soul.

Yesterday at church, Stan talked about Romans 12, and what it means to offer our bodies as living sacrifices. The Israelites offered the WHOLE animal, not just a part of the animal; the animal was pure, and without blemish; and when the sacrifice was complete, the animal was changed.

So, how does that translate to me? It means that I must give myself to God without reservation; I must be whole in body, soul, and spirit; whole in mind, and heart. I cannot hold anything back, or make excuses, or hold on to something that I think is valuable. I cannot lift my soul to another, while I am saying that I am worshipping God. There IS NO OTHER!

THAT is worship.
And I don’t think I ever worshipped God with such a clear and single-mind until that day, in the healing rooms, when all my checks and reservations were swept away by the Holy Spirit.

Later, my friend said to me, “Do you think this would have been possible, if you hadn’t gotten sick?”

No.
I just would not give myself completely. I would not give up those thoughts. I had convinced myself that I couldn’t give them up, and it didn’t matter anyway. God had most of me, and that would have to suffice.

It’s not the healthy that need a physician; it’s the sick, and the weak. And it wasn’t until my body became so sick and weak that I began to understand the sickness and frailty of my faith.

And it’s all very bittersweet. Because what is happening here is what I’ve been praying for: that God would show me eternity; that He would give me glimpses into the inheritance He has for me; that He would prepare me for my journey. The veil is thinning, and this world’s attractions are fading.

Or, maybe, He has a message that He wants me to share: a message of hope, and faith; a message of mercy and reconciliation; a message of renewal; a message of God’s purpose for those who love Him.

“Seek the Lord while He may be found; call on Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the evil man his thoughts. Let him turn to the Lord, and He will have mercy on him; and to our God, for He will freely pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’ declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
Isaiah 55:6-9

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