eight men out of the ordinary

Have you ever been in the presence of God so tangibly that the earth seemed to stand still?

I have been. About a dozen times, most notably (and predictably) at the births of each of my children and the day I stood, sunburnt, before the man God appointed for me and made a promise to love, honor, and obey (yes, we each said 'obey'. People audibly gasped and one lady about fell off her chair. It's California...) one another for the rest of our time on this earth.

But last night, there was no great cause. No child emerged from my womb, no marriage vows were exchanged, no gargantuan historical moments of human experience came to pass.

Just seven people, huddled together on the darkened alter of our church after worship team practice, praying. Praying as we have done each Wednesday night at about 9:00 p.m. for the last few years. Praying in joy, pain, petition, and thanks. Praying. Just opening our hearts and pouring them out to the God of the universe.

Last night, as one of our women singers began to pray, each word she spoke seemed to have emerged from a lyrical comingling of Romans, Matthew, Philippians, and the Psalms. I heard echoes of the apostle Paul in her utterances and suddenly understood with new clarity the difference between your garden variety prayer, and the God-given spiritual gift of intercession. Whoa.

Now, I cannot tell you what this woman said. I don't recall her words, and I know that she is not a particularly eloquent or verbose in everyday conversation. She is not a preacher or a public speaker. She is just a simple, complex, relatable, amazing woman of God. But as this woman spoke last evening, I felt the earth tremble, the trees bending to hear her, and there was just a deafening silence, and the Lord's presence just absolutely descended on us all, as we sat cross-legged together on that stage. I wept, not because I am a girl or because I am easily moved to emotions (both true statements), but because God was undeniably with us. And in that moment, our prayer became conversation with our father, not a contrivance of religion. It became not a mechanism, but a miracle.

Thus occured a miraculous moment in an ordinary Wednesday night, as the breath of heaven swept in amidst seven little human beings, sitting cross legged on the stage of a church with our eyes closed and our hearts open. Ordinary prayer on a typical night with the usual suspects came to an abrupt end when, at 5 minutes past nine last night, our group of seven praying souls gained an eighth. God was in the house.

"For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." ~ Matthew 18:20.

Amen.