Terrifying Holiness

Having been reading through God story and praying about personal development in my faith, one of the main themes standing out thus far has been the fear of god. The old testament god is the same today and as he was back then, he is never changing and yet I still so flippantly push my boundaries. I haven’t been a God fearing man. I often prayed about this fear that I knew I should have, but how did I get it? I was left unaware.

A common prayer theme for this 24-7 prayer week was the presence of God. It was highlighted at the eurogathering and was raised again in Exodus 33 in God story when Moses did not want to continue without the presence of God. If there is one thing this gap year has taught me thus far is that praying big is a dangerous sport.

It’s a Tuesday evening. Firey bellied, a group of young, passionate and able-bodied Christian’s set out for an 11pm worship slot. For some reason, God pressed upon me to hold back and walk down with Angelique and Sara missing out on the first ride in my friends car as she just passed her test. So breaking off from the banter and busyness I so commonly surround myself in, I held back and walked down. The walk was lovely, 3 young people, passionate about God, passionate about getting to know him and fearlessly seeking his face. We discussed ‘depth’ and coincidentally (nothing is ever coincidental when God is involved) we all felt more open and prepared to be vulnerable, so we decided to hold back after the worship with the view to some more openness and personal story telling.

The worship was electric and God-filled. Incredible. How breath-takingly beautiful it is to be in a room with about 10 different nationalities, a large age range and an acoustic guitar. Beautiful. Intimate. Romantic. Real. By about 1am the worship was over and we concluded with some personal bondage breaking healing prayer over one of our transits. This is such a hurt nation, but such a big God. Seeing this girls pain stirred me, stirring me all the more to get to grips with this Jesus who is so gentle, kind, warm and loving. We turned off the worship music so our focus wouldn’t be distracted and after a late night caffeine fix we re-entered the prayer room. Only this time with a different approach. Inspired by old testament readings God pressed upon us to bring some water and oil. Keen to discover more, we approached the cross. Back to where it all begins. With a strange and never been experienced intensity we began to pray. Driven by our hope of freedom from the desperately painful state of this world we started on our knees. We prayed the holy spirit would search us, try us, convict us of un-confessed sin, to purify us. We bowed to that cross and confessed Jesus as both Lord and Saviour. We pleaded for forgiveness and begged for purification. By 2am we individually washed our hands as a symbol of leaving our filth and mire at the cross, washed by the blood of Jesus. We remained on our knees, heads up, eyes closed, praising the name of Jesus. It’s a still, gentle atmosphere, the complex classical piano harmonies remind us of how beautiful, lovely and gentle our Jesus is but also how unworthy and distracted we are. With thanksgiving and praise we pray boldly, expectantly and with faith. Claiming ground for Christ. Proclaiming Christ’s victory. Surrendering more and more. How gentle and beautiful this was. But we wanted more. More of this lovely Jesus, so gently and repeatedly we prayed “jesus come … we invite you here … open up the heavens and let your glory descend” In this gentleness and stillness we wait. Something struck me. That shiver. That tingle. That knowledge of something ‘more’ going on. I spoke outloud “God … you are here”. At once something changed. I dropped my face to the ground in literal trembling fear, Sara screamed falling face down and Angelique the same. Silence. Heavy breathing. Shudders. A breeze from an open door. I felt Jesus in the room. I knew he was there. 2m away to my right, walking slowly around the room. Too scared to cry, gripped with fear I couldn’t move. My spine. Literally pinned to that floor face down on my knees, the only utterable word ‘worthy’. Coming from the naïve young and cocky 21year old who so longed to physically see the holy side of the supernatural, to be stuck face down to the ground, eyes closed as hard as they could, this was a big deal. I couldn’t move. I literally couldn’t move, could even barely speak. Unaware of Angelique and Sara I felt Jesus walk around. But … this was not the Jesus I knew. This was the real Jesus. A new revelation of what it means to really be a God-fearing man. This Jesus was powerful. This Jesus was victorious. This Jesus was terrifying holy. This Jesus was love. Gripped with fear but also love, I had the revelation that has since revolutionalized my life, I knew Jesus was powerful, victorious, I knew all this. Now, I know this. Now I know what it means to fear God. This Jesus loves me, how unworthy I am. A new revelation of grace and Gods goodness. As the physicality’s faded these revelations of grace and goodness lead us to worship, to dance, to praise, to scream, to cry, to lie down, to stand up, to jump. We eventually took it all out on the wall with a paint box. As speech and conversation returned, we shared our individual experiences. Each one exactly the same. The son of God truly was in the room. Words can’t do this experience justice. It’s changed my life. It’s kept me from indulging myself. Its lead me to pursue holiness, to really pursue God.

My only prayer is now that I’ll never forget. That I’ll never lose the wonder.