On Palm Sunday I told the congregation the story of the little boy who was too sick to go to church on a Palm Sunday and had to stay home with his mother. When his father returned from church he was carrying a Palm branch and the little boy asked him what that was. The father explained that when Jesus came to town, the people waved Palm branches to honor Him. The little boy responded, “The one Sunday I’m not there is the Sunday Jesus decided to visit!”
Someone asked me why we didn’t stay in California longer than three days, staying the weekend and coming home on Monday instead of rushing home Saturday morning. I replied that we didn’t have a lot of money, the trip was spontaneous, etc. Those were valid reasons. But deep in my heart, I was a little like that small boy. What if the Sunday I was in California was the Sunday Jesus decided to visit Idaho?
To some that may sound silly, but that is my heart’s cry. I go to church every Sunday now anticipating the Spirit is going to rain down upon us. I am expecting the River of God to begin to flow down the aisles of our log cabin church. I am expecting the manifest Presence of God to walk among us, bringing healing, deliverance, repentance, salvations, restoration, Revival. I want to be there when it begins to happen!
I am waiting and desperately praying for God’s Revival to visit us. I don’t want the same-old same old. I want the fresh anointing. I want what God has for our generation. I want what God intends for The Way in Middleton, Idaho. So, I wait, knowing that one of these Sundays Jesus is going to visit us like never before and everything – everything – will be different, including me.
Father, we’re desperately praying and waiting. Amen.
