In Defense of Hope

In February of 2023 I found myself the answer to my father’s prayer. 

There was an historic outpouring of the Holy Spirit occurring several hours away on the campus of Asbury University, the seminary my mother graduated from in 1999. With my parents’ combined health issues, though, they felt it would be impossible for them to make the trip. My father prayed one night that my mother would somehow be able to go and witness it in person. The next day I called and said that we were finally finished getting our catamaran ready for sale and would be driving up the following day from South Florida to their home in East Tennessee on our way back to Bowling Green, KY. I asked my parents if I could take my mom and go up to Asbury.

My father burst into tears.

At the time mom was having difficulty walking because of massive back pain. We picked up a “rollator” and were off. When we arrived, we drove slowly through throngs of thousands upon thousands of people and cars. Because of mom’s difficulty walking, I wasn’t sure if I could just drop her off by herself and then go park miles away. A car pulled out of a parking space right in front of us, directly across the street from our destination, Hughes Chapel. I couldn’t believe it. We parked, jumped out, and went to a nearby gas station for a badly needed visit to the restroom.

There was a line of, no kidding, 50 people! But upon seeing my mother struggling with her rollator, one by one people passed us to the front of the line. After that, we crossed the street to join a line of nearly 7,000 people trying to get into a chapel that only held fewer than 1,500. My mother decided to go to the front of the line and ask if there was handicapped seating available inside. To our astonishment, they sent someone out to guide us inside up a back ramp and placed us in the very front of the chapel.

The next five hours felt like five seconds. 

We worshiped and wept, saw people race to the front to read their favorite Scripture, and give testimonies of deliverance from years of anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and sexual bondage, all amidst shouts of rejoicing. 

There were so many tears. 

Young, old, and in between, people from at least ten different nations were flooding the altar and weeping in the arms of counselors, volunteers, faculty and staff of the university and seminary. The music was gloriously simple and authentic. The singers all over the building were enraptured in the Holy Spirit.

The presence of God was thick and heavy.

Overall there was a focus on repentance of sin, forgiveness, and the purity and beauty of Jesus. That night we drove in silence for about an hour, finding out way to Lexington. Mom’s hotel bed was the exact firmness she needed for her back and for comfort. She slept all night for the first time in months. All of this was in a single day.

Something is shifting.

I recently read a report called “The Quiet Revival” by the Bible Society of the UK. Over the last six years, church attendance has doubled, both the Catholic church and charismatic churches are seeing a dramatic rise in attendance and activity. This trend is being led by 18-24 year olds, the majority of whom are men. I encourage you to take some time to read this report and sense what I am sensing. Aslan is on the move. In the midst of heartbreak and violence and chaos, hope is alive because Jesus is alive!