Day 8: …Almost Did Me In!
After my last post, our local ministry took even more ground in a covert operation to minister to our small Upper Peninsula town (more on that coming soon). Connections. Vision was shared. People are taking a new look at our group after once relegating us to a tattooed, beard-wearing, neo-communal version of Duck Dynasty meets Fiddler on the Roof. We had two new families and a couple old cronies make it to church this weekend. The Lord was moving, the Spirit is tearing it up, and a bedraggled bunch of young saints are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel and turn this darn corner!
Then I got home….
I had left for our “community event” meeting with two sick kids and my wife at home (she usually comes too) and a sense that we need to just push a little longer, a little harder and we will breakthrough. And then we tried to go to bed. One daughter starts vomiting while two others are crying. And then, within 15 minutes—in the very middle of this fast—I’m doubled over with the “diarrheas since Easters.” Painful. The next four hours saw three different people in my family running back and forth from sleeping to making and not making it to the toilet to erupt all over the bathroom. And I had ALREADY wanted to rip up the old carpet in the upstairs hallway!
Sorry about the gross details. Believe me, I’m sparing you…I have always prided myself on my flavorful descriptions of the “screaming meanies” or the trots or the oh-no-oh-no’s. I mean, it was like throwing slippery bricks down a muddy slip and slide. Oh, there I go again! Sorry. Sorry.
Anyway, all laughter aside, somewhere in the disgusting cacophony that became my night…I found myself laid up on a bed in the spare bedroom with gut-wrenching cramps, praying in tongues, knowing we were experiencing a little spiritual interference for moving forward. When it comes in my house, it comes hot, heavy, and loud.
And then, I don’t know how long it took, things just went quiet. No vomiting. No running to the bathroom and screaming in pathetic disgust. The Lord seemed to calm the stormy waters. And all I could hear is my wife simply, sweetly reading the Word to get my exasperated children to fall asleep. Honestly, in all the chaos that we have known in ministry or in the family, on road trips in the bus or fighting the enemy in brazen outreach, the Bible being read has always had a near-magic quality in bringing a calm and a welcomed reset and repose. Last night was actually the beginning of God taking me in a much needed direction: He reminded me, “Not by power, not by might, but by My Spirit says the Lord.”
Even feeling sick and puny all day, I felt I had worry and strife taken from me.
Thank You Father.