updraft
07-15-2007, 10:02 PM
The ministry of John Robert Stevens is one of the 5 most influential factors that has touched my life. I know that what I learned while in the Walk continues to affect perceptions and shape experiences to this day.
It was summertime 1977 and I was a parched seeker of 19 years. The worship and singing in the Spirit came like midsummer rain, bringing relief from the pain and lonliness like nothing outside my dreams had ever given me. It was elemental. It was real. It was ordained in the courts of eternity. This was the sound that filled the cosmos when the stars were small. Before I would wait months, years, reading, praying, combing the scriptures for a key to a breakthrough that would soothe the relentless hunger that drowned me. enough grace would come, now and then, to know there had to be an answer somewhere. My mother said I was never young. I reminded her of my grandfather. I vowed I would never marry and perpetuate this hellish cycle of pain and futility. It would end with me. If I was growing up now I would surely be medicated into a stupor. they would diagnose me as depressive. Yeah. I never seriously considered suicide. There was too much fear of God before my eyes. But I have railed " God, why have you condemned me to this hellhole planet. What was my sin?"
Then with the walk I could come into a service, lift my heart in worship upon the Glassy Sea, and find blessed relief and freedom; the peace that passes understanding that will keep your heart and mind. Thank you Jesus.
And then the word would come.To have it describe and explain the interior topography of my life in view of the Scripture was the norm. It was a Living Word.
The Walk consisted of three elements: The Worship, The Word, and The People. The worship and the word were flawless Manna from Heaven. The people sucked!
"We have this treasure in earthen vessels" Amen. Today, the Apostle would say "We have this 50-carat diamond in a dirtbag." Amen. Even so, amen.
I got blown out every service. After soaring with the angels I had to come down to the young prophets smoking, drinking, hurling foul language, and rolling in the hay with the prophetess. Damn! I have never witnessed such a raging dichotomy before or since. the irresistible magnetism of the Face of Christ juxtaposed with the repulsive uncleanness of unrestrained fleshly excesses. feasting at the Lords table was exquisite. But you had to be willing to wade up to your knees in buffalo wafffles to get there. I was. I was willing to shine it all on for the prize; a way into the presence of the Lord. A mechanism that worked. It was reliable. You had to experience it to understand. The songs, the singing in the spirit of hundreds of voices like the thunder of many waters. The intent of so many hearts would open the heavens and create on upward flow. Updraft. Just come in, spread your wings, and soar.
Its too easy to look in now and pass judgement. The anointing is only palpable in the moment. }
It was summertime 1977 and I was a parched seeker of 19 years. The worship and singing in the Spirit came like midsummer rain, bringing relief from the pain and lonliness like nothing outside my dreams had ever given me. It was elemental. It was real. It was ordained in the courts of eternity. This was the sound that filled the cosmos when the stars were small. Before I would wait months, years, reading, praying, combing the scriptures for a key to a breakthrough that would soothe the relentless hunger that drowned me. enough grace would come, now and then, to know there had to be an answer somewhere. My mother said I was never young. I reminded her of my grandfather. I vowed I would never marry and perpetuate this hellish cycle of pain and futility. It would end with me. If I was growing up now I would surely be medicated into a stupor. they would diagnose me as depressive. Yeah. I never seriously considered suicide. There was too much fear of God before my eyes. But I have railed " God, why have you condemned me to this hellhole planet. What was my sin?"
Then with the walk I could come into a service, lift my heart in worship upon the Glassy Sea, and find blessed relief and freedom; the peace that passes understanding that will keep your heart and mind. Thank you Jesus.
And then the word would come.To have it describe and explain the interior topography of my life in view of the Scripture was the norm. It was a Living Word.
The Walk consisted of three elements: The Worship, The Word, and The People. The worship and the word were flawless Manna from Heaven. The people sucked!
"We have this treasure in earthen vessels" Amen. Today, the Apostle would say "We have this 50-carat diamond in a dirtbag." Amen. Even so, amen.
I got blown out every service. After soaring with the angels I had to come down to the young prophets smoking, drinking, hurling foul language, and rolling in the hay with the prophetess. Damn! I have never witnessed such a raging dichotomy before or since. the irresistible magnetism of the Face of Christ juxtaposed with the repulsive uncleanness of unrestrained fleshly excesses. feasting at the Lords table was exquisite. But you had to be willing to wade up to your knees in buffalo wafffles to get there. I was. I was willing to shine it all on for the prize; a way into the presence of the Lord. A mechanism that worked. It was reliable. You had to experience it to understand. The songs, the singing in the spirit of hundreds of voices like the thunder of many waters. The intent of so many hearts would open the heavens and create on upward flow. Updraft. Just come in, spread your wings, and soar.
Its too easy to look in now and pass judgement. The anointing is only palpable in the moment. }