Most believers are aware that the Holy Spirit, the Third Person of the Trinity, speaks to God's people. He speaks to churches and he speaks to individuals. But the important thing is that he speaks. How does the Holy Spirit speak to us? In what ways?
Now I could go to Henry Blackaby's and Claude King's Experiencing God and give you some pretty practical lessons. Those lessons have been made popular with us now for 20 years, or so. Lessons like, God speaks through the Holy Spirit through his word, through prayer, through circumstances, and through others to make his will known to us.
I could write all night about all of that. I want to go a different direction. I want to try to help you, the reader, see that God will speak to you according to how he has made you. Now he will use all of the above to do it. But he has given you a unique personality and wants to speak to you in a way that you will understand him.
God will also speak through the Spirit in accordance with your faith level. There are a number of levels of faith living we can be on. Some are little children. They are newly born again. The Holy Spirit has a way to teach those newly born believers so that they can grow quickly. Some are young men or young women, spiritually speaking. The Holy Spirit will address these accordingly. And some are young adults. The list goes on.
There are things I have learned about the Holy Spirit's voice. Sometimes it is a soft and gentle voice. Its tenderness is unrivaled, even by the greatest of lovers.
Other times the Holy Spirit's voice is like a gentle wind on a summer night. He moves, you feel his presence, and you are refreshed by what he says to you.
There are those times that he speaks as strong as a central plains thunderstorm. When God gave the Ten Commandments his voice was accompanied by thunder and lightning.
Some of you are like me. More often than not, God has had to speak more like a winter storm, blowing his winds across you with such passion as to push you towards his will.
This is what I have learned, though: the longer I walk with the Lord, the better I know his voice.
The question is, when the Holy Spirit speaks, will you be listening?
Showing posts with label Holy Spirit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holy Spirit. Show all posts
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Thinking of Home
The past 4 weeks have been a whirlwind. Our youngest daughter had flown home for a visit. "Home" is in South America. Melissa was born there. She grew up there. And, to a large degree, her heart is in her home country of Peru. It's her delight. When Melissa speaks of it, her eyes light up; there is an excitement in her voice. You know how it is. You remember the foods, the sounds, and the sights of things that bring you to that nostalgic point in your mind.
As we rode together through the twisting streets of Lima, I reminded Melissa and one of her friends that our true home is ahead of us. We are part of the celestial family. Our citizenship is in heaven. Home--our true home--is with the Lord.
Now the Lord was wise in how he set things up. He knows us. The Lord Jesus told us a little about how heaven would be (John 14). Then he said, as it were, "Don't worry, guys. I am sending you the Comforter to be with you till we see one another again." "The Comforter" is the Holy Spirit. Among other things that the Holy Spirit is for us, is that word that Paul used in 2 Corinthians and Ephesians: "the down payment." He is a sample of what is awaiting us.
This is my point: the Holy Spirit of God keeps us yearning for "home." If he did not reside within us, I fear we would wander off, carried away by the interests and cares of this world. We would not be interested in, or longing for, the presence of God. We would not be further motivated to encourage others to turn to Jesus for salvation. We would forget, both where we came from and where we are headed.
But Paul said in 1 Cor. 2 that, even though it has not entered into the mind of man what "home" is really like, the Holy Spirit reveals that to our spirit. He whispers about the beauties of heaven. Sometimes I think he fairly shouts it to us. He taps us on our spiritual shoulders when we get too distracted with the things around us, pointing "upward" to heaven.
In short, keep thinking of home. One day we will, I hope, meet one another there. One day we will see that the wait has been worth it all.
As we rode together through the twisting streets of Lima, I reminded Melissa and one of her friends that our true home is ahead of us. We are part of the celestial family. Our citizenship is in heaven. Home--our true home--is with the Lord.
Now the Lord was wise in how he set things up. He knows us. The Lord Jesus told us a little about how heaven would be (John 14). Then he said, as it were, "Don't worry, guys. I am sending you the Comforter to be with you till we see one another again." "The Comforter" is the Holy Spirit. Among other things that the Holy Spirit is for us, is that word that Paul used in 2 Corinthians and Ephesians: "the down payment." He is a sample of what is awaiting us.
This is my point: the Holy Spirit of God keeps us yearning for "home." If he did not reside within us, I fear we would wander off, carried away by the interests and cares of this world. We would not be interested in, or longing for, the presence of God. We would not be further motivated to encourage others to turn to Jesus for salvation. We would forget, both where we came from and where we are headed.
But Paul said in 1 Cor. 2 that, even though it has not entered into the mind of man what "home" is really like, the Holy Spirit reveals that to our spirit. He whispers about the beauties of heaven. Sometimes I think he fairly shouts it to us. He taps us on our spiritual shoulders when we get too distracted with the things around us, pointing "upward" to heaven.
In short, keep thinking of home. One day we will, I hope, meet one another there. One day we will see that the wait has been worth it all.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Booze, Bullets, and Blessings
Dickens said it quite poignantly in Tale of Two Cities: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
The past week was both. God opened doors we never dreamed possible. We have managed to have a blessed reception in a new settlement of three thousand families. No church exists there. A few believers can be found there. Those with whom we spoke were excited at the thought of having a church in this brand new community. Two men are headed there at this very moment. They hope to begin inviting men and women to a Bible study, where they will be introduced to the greatest news in the world.
As the week melted into the weekend, I found myself on a plane headed to the southern part of this country. My role was to ordain a new man into the gospel ministry. I also intended to visit a struggling church and try to encourage them.
On Saturday night I looked into the eyes of a group of men of different ages. Most were hurting. They hurt because their church hurt. They needed healing. The ordination of a new pastor was a new prayer of hopeful healing for this group.
On Sunday morning those hurting eyes were multiplied by ten. The building was full. The atmosphere was electric. These were my friends. I had worked alongside many of them for almost ten years. Now I was there as a guest to try to help them overcome some devastating moments in their church's history. The day was a blessed one.
On Sunday night I stood before yet another group of believers. It was so distinct from the morning. Instead of pain, I saw indifference. Instead of hope, I felt heaviness. I preached a full hour here. This was no time for a wimpy, 3 points and a poem kind of message. It was time to try to wake up a sleeping church.
Unknown to me, back in my own city a tragedy had unfolded. It began Saturday night. A young man, one of our helpers in our city, had gone home after a day with the youth from the small church he helps us with. The group included two of our missionaries. The man told the two ladies that he hoped his friends would let him sleep; he was so tired from a hard day. They did not.
His friends showed up sometime that night. Some told us they had been drinking. Drugs may also have entered that picture. Some were flirting with girls that had ties to a local gang. So they brought a gun into the house. Our Christian brother, the only Christian in his family, was concerned over that. He asked if it was unloaded. They said it was. Someone pulled the trigger and our Christian brother was swept into the presence of Jesus.
Monday morning greeted me with that terrible news. The man is now buried. But the feelings his death evoked are clawing on the surface of the hearts of too many people. The tragedy has plunged its talons deep into hearts of believers and unbelievers alike. This man was a promising young preacher. None of us can make sense of it. The young men who woke him and insisted he sit with them during their party are hiding in shame.
This is what I know: the same Holy Spirit that was moving in the southern part of this country, blessing me, guiding me, and encouraging both me and the believers I was with--that same Spirit was here, consoling and calling to the men and women affected by this terrible, sensesless tragedy. He seeks to glorify Jesus in this, just as he sought to glorify Jesus where I was ministering.
I know that booze impairs judgment. Even one small shot impairs judgment. Even one glass of wine. Even one beer. Booze is bad news. God said give to those who are perishing. It is not for kings and princes. It is for dead men. It is not for believers; it is for the lost.
I know that bullets don't kill, in and of themselves. Neither do guns. But foolish young (or old) men, whose judgment is impaired by booze and drugs, tend to make stupid decisions. By the way, angry young men (or women) can have impaired judgment and make stupid decisions. But booze makes it easier than anger to make stupid decisions.
And I know that now is the time to reach those young men. It may not yet be the time to reach the parents and brother of this believer. But I believe it is time to reach the young men involved in this thing that has ransacked a small church and stolen one of its workers. They will listen now. So we will go. We will try to share the one hope for all mankind. That would be Jesus, by the way.
Somehow, someway, God will be glorified in this. Let it be so!
The past week was both. God opened doors we never dreamed possible. We have managed to have a blessed reception in a new settlement of three thousand families. No church exists there. A few believers can be found there. Those with whom we spoke were excited at the thought of having a church in this brand new community. Two men are headed there at this very moment. They hope to begin inviting men and women to a Bible study, where they will be introduced to the greatest news in the world.
As the week melted into the weekend, I found myself on a plane headed to the southern part of this country. My role was to ordain a new man into the gospel ministry. I also intended to visit a struggling church and try to encourage them.
On Saturday night I looked into the eyes of a group of men of different ages. Most were hurting. They hurt because their church hurt. They needed healing. The ordination of a new pastor was a new prayer of hopeful healing for this group.
On Sunday morning those hurting eyes were multiplied by ten. The building was full. The atmosphere was electric. These were my friends. I had worked alongside many of them for almost ten years. Now I was there as a guest to try to help them overcome some devastating moments in their church's history. The day was a blessed one.
On Sunday night I stood before yet another group of believers. It was so distinct from the morning. Instead of pain, I saw indifference. Instead of hope, I felt heaviness. I preached a full hour here. This was no time for a wimpy, 3 points and a poem kind of message. It was time to try to wake up a sleeping church.
Unknown to me, back in my own city a tragedy had unfolded. It began Saturday night. A young man, one of our helpers in our city, had gone home after a day with the youth from the small church he helps us with. The group included two of our missionaries. The man told the two ladies that he hoped his friends would let him sleep; he was so tired from a hard day. They did not.
His friends showed up sometime that night. Some told us they had been drinking. Drugs may also have entered that picture. Some were flirting with girls that had ties to a local gang. So they brought a gun into the house. Our Christian brother, the only Christian in his family, was concerned over that. He asked if it was unloaded. They said it was. Someone pulled the trigger and our Christian brother was swept into the presence of Jesus.
Monday morning greeted me with that terrible news. The man is now buried. But the feelings his death evoked are clawing on the surface of the hearts of too many people. The tragedy has plunged its talons deep into hearts of believers and unbelievers alike. This man was a promising young preacher. None of us can make sense of it. The young men who woke him and insisted he sit with them during their party are hiding in shame.
This is what I know: the same Holy Spirit that was moving in the southern part of this country, blessing me, guiding me, and encouraging both me and the believers I was with--that same Spirit was here, consoling and calling to the men and women affected by this terrible, sensesless tragedy. He seeks to glorify Jesus in this, just as he sought to glorify Jesus where I was ministering.
I know that booze impairs judgment. Even one small shot impairs judgment. Even one glass of wine. Even one beer. Booze is bad news. God said give to those who are perishing. It is not for kings and princes. It is for dead men. It is not for believers; it is for the lost.
I know that bullets don't kill, in and of themselves. Neither do guns. But foolish young (or old) men, whose judgment is impaired by booze and drugs, tend to make stupid decisions. By the way, angry young men (or women) can have impaired judgment and make stupid decisions. But booze makes it easier than anger to make stupid decisions.
And I know that now is the time to reach those young men. It may not yet be the time to reach the parents and brother of this believer. But I believe it is time to reach the young men involved in this thing that has ransacked a small church and stolen one of its workers. They will listen now. So we will go. We will try to share the one hope for all mankind. That would be Jesus, by the way.
Somehow, someway, God will be glorified in this. Let it be so!
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