Divine Interventions

I was frequently hearing, for a while, that "sometimes God calms the storm, and other times He calms you."

Typhoon and hurricane and tornado strength winds have persisted for a couple years now, as goes a continuation of that metaphor--spiritually speaking, though some of it's been rather chaotically manifest physically, too.

My "favorite" so far has been having the entire mountainside behind me, out at my dad's farm, take on invisible life in the form of noise of the approach of countless footfalls. Rustling through the brush, snapping twigs, rustling weeds, breaking branches--increasingly louder and louder once I reached a point of deciding to return to the house, and began to walk away from whatever was approaching. Advancing toward me, louder and louder until I got within easy distance of the house. Then it stopped.

The presence of the Lord never wavered. He kept me from running, for sure. Just reciting Psalm 23, too, evacuating the area. Wanting to flee but refusing to, in the strength of the Lord.

That's been the "favorite" so far.

Because it was so uniquely undeniable as an overt manifestation of...whatever.

The tornadoes which attempted to form subsequent to my sister's pronouncements while she was experiencing the primary encounter with deep oppression/infestation, though--that was pretty intense, too. The Lord completely took over, for that one--I was dumbstruck and in such shock I couldn't put two thoughts together to even ask Him for help. But He took over, and it was okay.

And there've been other things He's done. Overturned death numerous times (my own and that of others, too). Healed. Preserved. Given clarity. Directed. Exorcised. Manifested.

Many things. Lots of them aren't really bits that are okay to discuss, in general. Severity and sanctity.

Even mentioning, with such a sidelong glance as this constitutes (as implication, of sorts)...is really, really dicey.

Just--I know He still acts and intervenes in the same ways He ever has. I've been party to it, in ways (For instance: I am still alive--by most people's standards, as it goes).

Often seem almost as though we don't even ask Him for input or for assistance, however. We just kind of do what we think we need to do, and somehow expect that to be "right." That's skewed in favor of self-idolatry, though.

He's capable and does intervene regardless, yeah. But if Jesus, Himself, said while He walked on the earth that He did nothing except the Father directed (John 5:19)...then why would we somehow not need to also wait upon God's direction for every single thing?

Jesus said He did nothing on His own, after all. Nada. Zilch. Not one single thing (John 5:30). He overtly refused to exert His own will (John 6:38). He didn't make His own judgments. And He didn't even choose His own words--nor the ways in which He spoke them (John 8:28, John 12:49-50).

Like, seriously.

He did nothing of and per Himself, but was in all ways subject to God the Father.

So, how is it that we're supposed to somehow magic up a methodology for right worship or proper action that's pleasing to God, when Christ Himself said the Father explicitly directed Him in even his manner of speech? Active direction is overtly implied, there--ongoing, active direction.

I mean, He told us that the words He said weren't spoken on His own, but of the Father, who was in Him and carrying out His work through Him (John 14:10).

That's blatantly direction from active, internal prompting of the Spirit of God.

So...methodology?
And, um...doxology?

Well and good, if it means being Christ-like.
Present point of contention, though, is that it primarily effects recidivism to self-idolatry.

Relying on a methodical theology rather than relying upon God is inherently wrong-headed, no matter how precisely worded or meticulously carved from Scripture.

If you study a flower and understand all it's parts, the nature of development of colors, all chemical processes, and the conditions in which it grows best--then, still, how well does that comprehensive understanding and description beautify a room or fill a vase as the flower, itself, ought? Knowledge and understanding might all be utterly on-point--technically inerrant and absolutely sound. But that's nowhere akin to the same thing as actually possessing the flower and thus having ability to even give it as a gift to a cherished friend or family member.

Utterly different effects and circumstances.

I recently learned a friend had a near-encounter with Death this summer (whose presence you don't soon forget). When it was being disclosed, the recency of the event was utterly lost on me--couldn't conceive of it having been so recent.

The Lord intervened.

Grateful. Will continue praying.

And I'm still going to have to trust the Lord to keep me from running from friends. He was very faithful on that point, today, with the Saturday church group. Very faithful. Even prompted and enabled me to be honest and open about having serious fears and difficulties with intimacy and general interaction, amongst the ladies. They prayed for me.

And I didn't run away with as much immediacy as usual at the end of the day.

The Lord kept me still for a few minutes, at least. And I didn't feel entirely like a cornered, caged animal the whole time, either--only for brief moments at a time, each of which were surrendered up to the Lord in supplication for aid. Which...He provided.

I was able to be present, kind of.

And then told them I was running away, as I did so--rather than just the act, without being open about the process. And...they both hugged me and told me they loved me, before I left.

There are some serious things coming against those two ladies, right now. I am trusting God to direct them and keep them, in the midst.

The pastor of the Saturday group reported that he and his wife have also been experiencing some serious assaults, recently, too.

Same, with the group in Tazewell.

Same, with friend in Canada.

Same, of those others whom I know, here.

There's always the need to gauge how much we've added to the trials per our own muddled thinking and divided motives. But...still, don't entirely forget that we have enemies which are actively seeking to destroy us just for the sake of spiting our Heavenly Father.

Any amount of time pondering such a thing needs to be concentric about remembering that God is sovereign of everything, though--His will will be done. Incontrovertibly so.

So, it helps to always remember to keep everything wholly in perspective of the fact that God is in control. And He will direct our steps.

That whole deal about us being like the wind, metaphorically unknown where it comes from or goes? He moves us in such a way. Gives us speech in such a way.

I've literally watched Him turn the speech of people in an instant, them unawares. And He's great with making and keeping schedules, so long as we're willing to submit to His rather than expecting our own to work out.

I've learned from Him many times when He's spoken immediately through others in response to questions silently asked an instant prior. That used to be one of my favorite things about attending church, though from anyone else's perspective it may have made for some really difficult to follow sermons--associations so loose that the only connection sometimes was of the tangential nature of all of Scripture. Not even really what people call "rabbit trails" in some circles. But if the Spirit of the Lord was helping understanding of others, then that would have definitely made a difference.

It's really interesting, sometimes, to see people get a prompting to speak and almost try to refrain from doing so--a weird sort of confusion comes onto their faces, and somewhat frustration per uncertainty over why they're feeling compelled to say what they end up saying. General tenseness with no discernable external nor internal point of origin--come from out of nowhere, per the confusion evidenced--is a thing to look for.

Even better, though, is watching that happen with someone who has no idea what they're saying until they begin to listen and hear themselves say a thing. It's difficult not to laugh, sometimes, when this latter happens--the look of shocked, surprised confusion at finding themselves speaking without intending to, then compounded by an incrementally dawning amazement as they begin to wonder at the meaning of the words coming forthing--before rationalization kicks in to drive away the sense of oddity by creating some acceptable reason for the absurd--pretty awesome to witness.

What's even better is when it gets to a point that the latter of these goes on for multiple minutes, with disparate topics, and the person just finally gives over to just listening to what they're saying. Usually comes almost a look of dejected or despondent uncertainty mixed with something of confusion, amazement, and sheer incredulity. One, in the midst of this lattermost, just grabbed onto the pulpit and appeared to hold on for dear life at the outset. Before giving up and just listening without attempting to resist.

And, yes...I really still don't even want to go here...but for the third time today: He even spoke through Balaam's donkey, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that He's willing to speak through some of us.

I am grateful not to've thus far been privy to likewise experience as Balaam, simply due to how that would color the remainder of this lifetime's perspective with a persistent sense of sheer absurdity.

I'd be done at that point: Nothing would ever possibly be worth attempting to understand, from that moment on.

Just... Accept whatever comes, afterwards--no more questions.

Because, how can you possibly factor anything in alongside context of the reality of a talking donkey?

Mind...blown.

Just done.

Whereas, somehow--I can handle what seems to be an invisible, vast troop approaching decisively and with increasing loudness, from out of nowhere, in woods at dusk. I can accept that as reality, having experienced it.

I can handle Him resurrecting people who've been pronounced dead--resurrecting to such an extent that they have to immediately be sedated. I can handle that.

I can handle being told He'd restore 30% kidney function for someone whose kidneys have completely failed and which were prior functioning well below 30% for years as part of progressive kidney failure. I can handle Him doing so and driving away Death, as part of the process. I can handle that.

I can handle having Him force me against my will to walk up and down two flights of stairs for only-He-knows how many hours one night while all the house slept. I can handle being inaudibly told--so gently, so lovingly, but with an authority that was not to be denied--"Keep moving, keep walking...just keep going," utterly ignoring my desperate, wordless pleas to be permitted to "just lay down"--"just let me go to sleep." Night of my first overdose, no one except God and me knew it had even taken place. No one knew but Him. And I can totally handle that He intervened in that way.

I can handle so many things, really.

But, somehow the thought of a donkey beginning to speak human language?

...His sense of humor just completely devastates me, sometimes.

Just wow.

The Lord knows how to get a person's attention, when it's in His will to do so.
So, now...I'm praying for mercy for a particular leader. And appealing to His love, because...yeah, He loves. If I do, at all, then He does, but so much more.

Brothers and sisters, sort of thing, as far as I'm concerned.

So, I'm not going to stop pleading with Him.

And, back to considering friends: I'm absolutely terrified.
Like, seriously.

How awkward and unintentionally inappropriate will I be, before I'm given quarantine? Maybe already done, on some fronts, given the nature of particular matters?

Unintentional gaffes used to happen with regularity, especially at the outset of interaction, when anxiety holds sway to greatest extent. And latent tendencies being what they are, I have already had to repent and speak against myself at one point last weekend, while in the company of others, for saying something entirely inappropriate as "humor." (We're not to revile or scoff at angelic beings.)

I still don't know for sure what the Lord's going to have me do in the morning. I've been told I'm going to the 9 am service I usually go to ("usually" = three times over course of a couple months, lately), but after that?

No idea, yet.

I would say I know what I want to do, but that's not the case at all. I'm so confused right now. Scared witless. People.

Can run away, pls?

But Jesus just keeps telling me to trust Him.
And I do, so I will. Even if that means needing Him to remind me to do so, again and again.

And again. Continually.
For the remainder of this life.

Then still--I will trust Him.
He's good. And He's proven Himself so faithful.
So kind. And loving.

A friend that sticks closer than a brother, for reals.