My good friend, April recently gave me a book written by Rolland and Heidi Baker called "Always Enough." I like to refer to April as my prayer sherpa because she is filled with the Spirit, she constantly encourages me, and she's generally looking out for my best interests. So knowing my heart for missions and worship, she gave me this little paperback book and wrote a nice little note inside the front cover.
She knew I was broken from my trip to Jamaica so her discerning voice said to buy this book for me. I tore into it while I was on a recent business trip in Phoenix, Arizona. I absolutely abhor these types of trips, especially when I go by myself. I'm not much for going to dinner by myself nor holing up in my room to watch all the cable channels I purposefully don't have at home. So I took my little friend, "Always Enough" with me to Cabberra's for dinner one night.
She was right; the book was very convicting, moving, emotional, Spirit filled, and God inspired. I was enthralled from the beginning pages and kept pressing in. I'm actually surprised I didn't read it all in a night, but I needed to process some of the things Rolland and Heidi had journaled.
Later in the week, I took the book to Chipotle for dinner and then on to the movies. By this time we were becoming good buddies, the book and I. As I read in the theater, while waiting for the movie to play, I read a journal entry about a Holy Spirit experience that Heidi Baker encountered.
"Man," I thought to myself. "What I wouldn't give to be in God's presence for a few hours like that."
Sometimes it's dangerous to start comparing yourself to other Christians. You should really compare yourself to Christ to truly appreciate how far you have to go. But it was still difficult to quell the desire to experience the manifestation of the Spirit like she did.
As I walked out of the theater, I passed a few bars and noticed how the night life had suddenly come to life in comparison to my entrance to the theaters. My heart burned for these people who were trying to fill a void in their hearts with a malt, hop, and barley beverage instead. I approached my green-blue-gray intermediate automobile I had rented earlier in the week and noticed a piece of paper wedged in my door handle.
"What's this?" I wondered.
I pulled the piece of paper out and flipped it over.
"DO YOU KNOW JESUS CHRIST?" it read.
"Yeah" I muttered to myself and immediately looked around for the culprit. I wanted to talk to them about God. I was hungry for fellowship, for a connection to God. No one.
I scanned the parking lot to check out the automobiles around me, my eyes bouncing from door handles to windshields to any place imaginable one could insert a small piece of paper. Nada.
I got in my sedan and drove up and down the aisles of the parking lot convinced I would find my questioners. But there was no one who fit the description and I exited the parking lot.
"OKAY GOD! I HEAR YOU! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? WHERE DO YOU WANT ME TO BE?"
I slowly began repeating the words "Yahweh, Yeshua, Jesus" over and over again until it almost became a chant. And then I cried out with all my might, "JESUS!!!"