Growth and transition

I haven’t written a blog post in a while. Andrew’s done almost all the blogging in recent weeks. I think it’s because during first semester, what God was doing in me was deep and raw, and I had trouble understanding it, let alone expressing it. I’m usually a verbal processor—either out loud or in writing—but the changes that were taking place in me seemed to defy words.

Also, much of what I was thinking about first semester was introspective, and we didn’t really come here for introspection. We came here to learn how to be world-changers for Jesus. So somehow all the navel gazing I was doing didn’t seem fit to write about.

But I now see that God didn’t just want to bring us here to add to our ministry skills, He wanted to truly transform us. And true transformation requires renewed thinking, from the inside out. So no wonder I was spending a lot of time inside myself. 

In short, during first semester God was stripping away all my false identities, everything that I thought was crucial for my relationship with Him. It wasn’t just about losing the proximity of family, community, ministry and everything else familiar, I also, for a time, lost my hunger and passion for Him.

But He didn’t stop speaking. He told me so many things. He sought me out where I was hiding—sometimes literally at the back of the auditorium—and gave me words from people I didn’t even know. One time a girl I’d never met tapped me on the shoulder and described how she was sensing God sees me. Another time a woman gave me some art that she felt had a message from God for me. Those words spoke about how He loves intimacy with me and how He loves the fragrance I bring to worship, whether I feel His presence or not. And of course there were emails and words of encouragement from many of you.

During first semester, God told me that He has me hidden on purpose right now because it’s a time of rest. He told me that this time of rest is promotion, because certain breakthroughs come from rest that can’t come from work. Sometimes you acquire new territory in the Spirit by fighting and fasting and praying for it, and I’ve certainly had times like that in recent years. Other land you simply inherit as a son or daughter. That’s the stage I’m at right now.

God told me that I’m not to work or fight for approval from Him or from people anymore. He wants so much more for me than to base my identity on being liked.

Recently I’ve been fascinated with the Holy of Holies, the part of the tabernacle in the Old Testament that only high priests could enter to represent the people before God. Did you know that priests weren’t allowed to sweat in the Most Holy place? The other day one of our lecturers surmised that it’s because perspiration represents work, and we can’t work our way into the presence of God, we can only rest our way into it through Jesus’ work on the cross. I like that.

This semester is a new season. I feel a new momentum and excitement. I feel so much more secure in who I am in Jesus. I don’t have anything to prove. I want to minister because I’m overflowing with His love, not to earn anything.

In fact I’ve been feeling an aching and burning in my chest in the presence of God these days. It’s almost like He’s growing my heart to love more and better. When I pray and journal, He’s been telling me that when Holy Spirit power and supernatural love come together, heaven explodes onto the scene.

Out of that place of overflowing with His love and power, amazing things are happening when I go out to spread His love on the streets of Redding, as part of my practical aspect of our Bethel program. In upcoming blog posts I want to share some of those stories.

But for now, I want to say thank you to everyone who prayed and encouraged me through an emotionally tumultuous first semester. The light at the end of the tunnel is blinding and beautiful. 

- Anne

More notes from the fall term

Jason Vallotton

I'm still sorting through my notes from the fall term. Here are some more gems.

Jason Vallotton
Pain says “fix me now”, especially the younger you are. Or it says, "something’s right, keep going." 

"I just give my pain to God" isn’t a good answer. When you don’t acknowledge pain, you forget why you are the way you are. When we don’t see what’s inside us, it begins to form us, the way we think, what we do.

People can shut off their emotions for good to shut out pain. But, Matthew 5:4 - Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted and Psalm 126:5 - Those who sow in tears will reap in joy. When you don’t deal with your stuff and your pain, you pass it on to the next generation and you start a cycle of poverty.

How do you know how much to process? If you’ve already dealt with it, don’t dig it up. You’re not allowed to dig up a dead man. Don’t go around looking for bad stuff.

Bill Johnson
Sometimes we grow closer to God through "violence" (Matthew 11:12), other times by being a child (Mark 10:15).
 
There are times when you need to take breakthrough by force. Violence in the Kingdom is faith. When someone puts faith in Christ it is trauma to the kingdom of darkness. Violence can look like prayer walks or fasting -- putting aside all sense of decorum and crying out to God.

Bill Johnson

Then sometimes you realize you’re not going to get breakthrough through fighting. Some things aren’t trusted to soldiers, only to sons. Sometimes there's too much of a chance that you’ll take credit for the breakthrough. When receiving as a child you need to trust.

“Ask me and I will give you the nations as your inheritance.” We don’t fight for inheritance
When the Lord stirs up a violent thing, that passion for breakthrough, he’s trying to teach you about authority. But sometimes He says just stand by. He wants you to use your identity, not your authority. 

People who know their identity don’t have to fight for who they are. It can seem so wrong not to fast and pray but sometimes a season of less activity, and more trust in Him, will lead to your biggest breakthrough.

More Bill Johnson
Don’t settle for a baptism of fire that fits your doctrinal qualifications. Only be satisfied by unstoppable, unquenchable fire that you don’t define, but that defines you.

Kevin Dedmon 

God wants us to encounter His presence so we can become an encounter. I don’t go to an outreach, I AM the outreach. Because I’ve been seeking more of Him so that I leak out His presence on other people. He is Christ in us, the hope of glory.

Come away... again

My pilgrimage took a big step in May 2011 at Cora’s, the breakfast joint in south Guelph.

Anne and I felt God calling us to something new. So much had happened in a few short years. The financial struggles as our small business floundered drove me into God’s loving, gentle arms. Then, the floodgates of God’s blessing opened as we sold the business on the same day that I got offered a great job minutes from home.

Life was good. I was banking an excellent income for the first time in years. I loved my co-workers. We were hammering down debt. We had winter holidays, a new car, tasty food and wine, lifelong friends, a great church, and happy kids living the normal middle-class life. But I had been permanently marked by God. The passion for Him started to grow even stronger. We needed to follow Him with abandon.

It didn’t make sense. Every responsible cell in my body screamed in terror. We'd spent years in the desert. I’d prayed fervently for the rains to come. And now we were soaked in blessing and we were considering leaving everything because we felt God beckoning.

And that’s when I found myself sitting over a plate of bacon and eggs at Cora's across from my close friend, Jim Tice. I told him of the rumblings in my life -- that I was thinking of doing something radical.

“I think you need to listen to God saying ‘just trust me,’” said Jim. His eyes were wide. "And I don't usually hear from God for other people like that."

It was raining when I left. I scooted down the path and cut through parking lots to my office. Something inside me, I think it was God speaking, prompted me to pull out my iPod. I swiveled around to a new album Anne had purchased that I hadn’t listened to yet. It was from Jesus Culture, the Bethel band.

This was the first song I heard. I cried, amazed that God saw me and would speak so clearly. Alone in the elevator, dripping wet, I lifted my hands to heaven.

We’ve reached the midway point of our first year at Bethel and it’s decision time again: What next?

We sacrificed a lot to be here. We sold our house. Our bank account is solid. We're budgeting carefully but it's always dropping. The "responsible" cells in my body are getting antsy. They've been here before. 

It was our first day back at school after the Christmas break. Worship is a key component of every afternoon of class. I took out my journal, planning on finding a quiet corner to sort through our plans -- maybe to think away the growing worry. And anyway, worship has been a tough place for me lately. I prefer being alone and quiet with God.

But a small voice inside me prompted me to drop my journal on my chair and make my way to the front of the auditorium full of 1,200 students. There's plenty of time to write, I thought. It's time to worship.

As I wiggled my way through the crowd to the front, I heard the familiar guitar riff start the first song. 

So I stopped. And I raised my hands to heaven. It wasn't raining this time but my cheeks were wet just the same.

I have a plan for you 
It's gonna be wild
It's gonna be great
It's gonna be full of Me

I don't know what's in store. It's scary, just like it was the first time around. But this time I know even more of God's goodness. He still sees me and I see Him even better.

I wouldn't trade these last few months for anything. My family is reborn. My faith has exploded. 

I know the next step will lead us even closer to Him and it will be just as good. Let it rain.

Notes from the fall term - Kris Vallotton

From Kris Vallotton: 

• Sticks and stones will break your bones but names will steal your future.

• Many of us have been living under the wrong name. We live under a name that God hasn’t given us. When you were little, you knew you were born to rock. It takes 12 years of religion to convince you that being a loser is somehow good. When you understand who you are and whose you are, the battle is over.

• We're not "sinners saved by grace." When you were saved by grace you became a saint. When you receive Jesus, you receive a new name. You take on His name. You become a saint. [Romans 8] You can’t be a sinner and a saint at the same time. You're a brand new creation.

• You naturally want to reproduce who you think you are. If your house is a dump, I might put my feet on your coffee table when I come over. But I like my house and I take my shoes off when I'm home. And so will you because when you come over you don't see me putting my feet up on my coffee table. 

• I tell you how to treat me by the way I treat me. Whenever someone puts you somewhere that is better than you think of yourself, you’ll reduce the environment to what you believe about yourself. Example: Putting homeless in public housing which then becomes the worst ghettos. Or putting a prince (Joseph) in prison.

• It’s not in your nature to sin. You don’t have to sin. [1 John 1] We all came to Christ as sinners. But He didn’t just forgive you, He changed you. We start out as sinners. You can’t forget that. You didn’t make yourself a saint, He did. And if you sin (not when you sin, because sin isn't normal for a Christian, although there are lots of things that are common but not normal) you're already forgiven. [1 John 3]

• You are not your temptation. You are not identified by your worst day. Condemnation says, “you lied, you’re a liar.” Condemnation tries to convince you that your action is your identity. 

• You will always reproduce who you think you are. Be imitators of God. Spend your whole life trying to become more like God.

More class notes - Mary and the Christ child

Bernie Ooley, one of the BSSM bible teachers

I took this longer set of notes from a class taught by our bible prof, Bernie Ooley. She's one of our favorites.

We've now read almost all of the New Testament. Each week one of our bible teachers expounds on a particular book or passage. I found this teaching in my notes from October. 


Like Mary in Luke, we have to learn to ponder things in our heart so that when tough times come we still have the promise of God and we're not trying to force things ahead of God’s plan. Mary was a woman of expectancy. She had no grid for what she heard - it was a new thing. If your vision doesn’t scare you, it’s not big enough.

God loves to use the least likely because then He gets the glory. God will use our education, background, experience but that’s not what qualifies us. [2 Chronicles 16:9]

No word of God is void of power. A word of God has the power to come to pass if it’s just received. If we approach the word of God with our own set of traditions we’re just as bad as Pharisees - we make His word null and void with no effect.

When we get a prophetic word (a promise from God) external circumstances don’t always change overnight. In fact, they begin to look 180 degrees opposite. You’re believing for doors open for your destiny and everything slams shut. The sower sows the word and immediately the weeds come up. So if you’ve received a promise and the opposite happens, you’re right on track.

First thing Mary did is carry the secret in promise. And when she went to someone, she went to someone who would understand - Elizabeth. Don’t tell everyone everything. Entrust the sacred gift by only going to people who have earned the right to speak into our lives. The favor of God opens doors and starts wars, because people don’t understand and get jealous.  

        - Bernie Ooley

Notes from the fall term - #1

This fall, Anne and I have heard teaching from Bill Johnson, Beni Johnson, Kris Vallotton, Bernie Ooley, Dann Farrelly, Chris Overstreet, and others. Some of the speakers whisper, others bounce across the stage. All of them are passionate followers of Jesus who want to see revival around the world.

We usually get three or four hours of teaching each day. At points over the past four months I've felt like I was on the receiving end of a dump-truck's worth of revelation. It's going to take at least a week or two of downtime over Christmas to wrap my mind around everything that's happened. As a start, we're going to sift through our notes from the fall term and share some gems.

Here's the first batch:

You aren’t what you think you are. (No one has a perfect perspective of who they are). You aren’t what others think you are. You become what you think others think you are. As John Maxwell says, “You become what you think the most important person in your life thinks you are.” It’s really important what you think God thinks of you. [And God loves you - see John 3:16 and all of 1 John].    - Kris Vallotton

Our culture values concept over experience. You can go to business college and get taught by people who have never run a business. But what a person teaches he must be able to produce. If you can’t, then let people know you’re still in process. We have so much teaching in the church that has no experience to back it up. Jesus’ words became Spirit and things happened. Find all the places where doing and teaching are in the same phrase, like in Acts 1. Teaching concepts is important but it's supposed to lead to experience. Many people fall short of divine encounter because they are satisfied with good theology. Any revelation that doesn’t bring me into a divine encounter only makes me more religious.   - Bill Johnson

Salvation means not only forgiveness of sin but deliverance from torment and healing from disease. When someone is healed, it’s an expression of the Kingdom. Jesus illustrated what a man could do completely free of sin and empowered by the Holy Spirit. I’m forgiven of sin, so all that’s left is empowerment.    - BJ

Faith doesn’t come from striving, it comes from surrendering. Authority comes from the commission, power comes from the encounter.    - BJ

Faith isn’t blind, it sees the situation from a better pair of eyes. The bible is to be not only revelatory but relevant.   - Bernie Ooley


How we see God partly determines what we get from Him. If we think He's harsh, we’ll live in fear. When we don’t see Father God as always good, we misinterpret life. Matthew 7 - “Did I not cast out demons...” How can someone have power and authority and God says I didn’t even know you? They live life out of a religious mindset - they didn’t have intimacy. Everything they were doing was motivated out of trying to get something - to be famous or seen.

John 15:15. We need a servant heart with a friend’s mentality. So many have a servant heart with a slave mentality. Action doesn’t mean godlines. You can’t change your heart, but if you change what you believe it will change your heart.     - Mark Brookes

Joy

I’ve never had someone hold my hand like that. She wasn’t going to let go. And all I could do was mourn with this poor, desperate, broken woman.

It was my son Cam who pulled me over to room 14 at the rundown motel in downtown Redding. The woman’s partner made a plea for help in the parking lot while standing in line for a warm meal on the drizzly Saturday morning. Cam was moved by his sadness. I was busy elsewhere and missed the conversation but my strong, gentle, compassionate son wouldn’t let it drop.

“We’ve got to find this lady in room 14,” he said.

“I wish we knew where she is,” I said, hoping he would drop it.

You see, I’m getting comfortable talking to, loving and even hugging the homeless and other folks who gather in the motel’s parking lot each Saturday morning. The folding tables and chairs we set up for the community feast are one of six sites run by Bethel church in Redding. 

Finishing up at our community feast in downtown Redding on Saturday

But crossing into someone’s room felt like an invasion of privacy -- an act of familiarity and trust in a world where nothing is familiar and I don’t know who is trustworthy.

“It’s right there Dad. That room over there.”

Oh. The one with the number 14 on it. Perfect.

I knocked tentatively. The door opened a crack and then swung wide. A shroud of cigarette smoke billowed out. The room was dark except for the glare from the television. Plastic bins and cardboard boxes filled the room. The floor was covered in wood shavings and cigarette wrappers.

The man Cam met in the lineup invited us in. A woman sat on the bed. A third man, covered in tattoos, lay on a makeshift cot laid across plastic bins. He didn’t get up.

Another woman from our team joined us and sat down on the beside the woman. I knelt down beside her. The sick woman grabbed my hand and pulled it up to the crook of her neck. She squeezed.

Her hair was matted. Her color pale. Hopelessness felt thicker than the smoke.

So we prayed. Her body was broken. Her spirit was buried under immeasurable pain. Only heaven knows what tragedies she has faced.

I felt God telling me she used to swim as a little kid. She loved the freedom in the water. Floating. Limbs moving freely in any direction. Weightless.

“You loved swimming, as a kid.” She started to sob.

“God loves you. He wants you to feel that freedom again.”

And that’s all I could do. Pray and soothe, my friend gently stroking her hair, speaking words of life over her. Her heartache was so heavy.

This past week at school we’ve been learning about joy -- that Jesus didn’t just muscle through the hard times, keeping calm, carrying on. As it says in Hebrews 12, even while hanging on the cross Jesus chose to see heaven and choose joy. Joy gives us heaven’s perspective. Jesus told us in John 15 that He wants us to be completely filled with joy... Always.

All I could do that morning was hold that desperate woman’s hand and plead before God on her behalf. All the evil inflicted on her, all the bad breaks, all the emptiness swirled around me. I couldn’t see hope.

Where does joy come in? How do I bring heaven into that room?

Don't get me wrong. I’m not going to choose to be blind or stupid. Only a fool wouldn’t see the pain and suffering and misery in the world. And there's room in faith for sadness. Jesus wept when his friend died. I hope I always hold hands, pray, and recognize people’s pain. I’m still going to offer a hot meal, a helping hand and I’m going to bring light into darkness.

But just because there’s hopelessness all around doesn’t mean that’s what we have to dwell on. People around us know sadness. They don’t need help finding their pain. They don’t need me to join them in their pit of misery. What people need is joy even in suffering. People want heaven.

I’m going to choose joy.

             - Andrew