Revival
When I think of my grandma Rose, I can’t help but close my eyes and remember pulling up a stool to the edge of her kitchen counter and watching as she rolled perfect tortillas using a small, worn, rolling pin made from the end of a broom handle. Rolling with one hand and turning blistered tortillas with the other. I only ever knew her as my grandma. Sitting in pews and standing in kitchens.
It wasn’t until I was older that I learned her life took a dramatic turn in 1934, when she accepted an invitation from her future sister-in-law, Lillian, to join a revival meeting at a small church in Kersey, Colorado, launched by my grandfather’s family. My grandfather’s family had recently traveled to Colorado, weary from the drought-stricken southern plains of New Mexico, to work the beet fields in Northern Colorado and plant the first Spanish-speaking Protestant (Pentecostal) church in the area. My grandma was a young 17-year old girl who suffered rejection from her family as a result of her revival experience.
Revival has caught our attention in recent days. Not the gathering around name or brand or flash, but tipping points of the very presence of God. New tents and new soil. Because of our inheritance of rich revival history, my response is always: “Do it again, Lord!”
In 1934, revival was a straightforward move for a simple people: families restored, addiction broken, salvation and healing poured out, human hearts revived, and prodigals welcomed.
Hearts moving toward a God who loves to respond.
As they gathered, they joined the activity of the throne, circled around a word that was living and active, dividing between soul and spirit, joint and marrow, judging the attitude of their hungry hearts. Producing much fruit. As they leaned in, they turned their affection toward heaven, not as careful charismatics wearing seatbelts, but as kingdom people with kingdom purpose, desiring kingdom work on earth as in heaven.
They didn’t think it beneath them to consecrate their very lives to God. To seek Him daily and give him the whole of their lives. They knew a thing or two about soil, so the concept of ripping sin and strongholds out by the roots made sense. They took hold of everything Jesus died to give them.
Just as then, a move of God is available now. We have an invitation of Heaven. Remnants are crying out for revival. God is beautifully at work, highlighting pockets of faithfulness. Like my young grandmother, accept the invitation to move from death to life. To dive and dive again.
"Unfathomable oceans of grace are in Christ for you. Dive and dive again — you will never come to the bottom of these depths!"
-Robert Murray McCheyne