Speakin' in the Spirit.

Oh my, have I got a treat for you guys tonight, because, friends, God had a treat for me.

Check it.

Binding the devil. Praying "in the spirit." Speaking in tongues. Altar dancing. Laying of hands.

It was an all-out weird parade through the main sanctuary at James River tonight. I have got to start bringing Xanax to these things.

It was as though I walked in the door, and God said, "Hey, kid. So you're with Me now. You're in the Word. You finally learned how to pronounce 'septuagint.' Time to take the trainers off. Come find me when you're done. And bring My Book with you, too. We'll get it figured out. In the meantime, enjoy. Ha."

Let me break it down for you.

Prayer time. We prayed for cards. We prayed in small groups. So far, so good. Then Lindell asks all those currently out of work to stand up. And everyone around them to gather in, to, uh, touch them. Now, I am trying so hard to work with this stuff. But we get to this laying of hands thing, and I freeze. In the Episcopal church, where I had most recently spent some time before moving down here, we keep our hands to ourselves. I don't want to touch other people, and I don't want to be touched. It's not that I don't see the biblical value in it. It might be a powerful experience. But I can't seem to get far enough out of my own self-consciousness to try it. Ironically, not doing it makes me more conspicuous than doing it.

First hurdle down. Lindell's sermon is on the topic of defeating the devil in your life. It reminds me of this little ditty these people all seem to know at my Life Group. Something about shutting the do'. As he talks, he references something called "binding." At which I point I have to lean over to Mona, "What's he talking about?" She explains that some people believe in binding the devil's power in their lives. To which I think, "Ah, yeah, just like in Paranormal State (LOVE that show!) how they always tell demons to get out of their house." But still, how far south are we? This isn't Louisiana for Pete's sake. Do people buy that crap? To his credit, Lindell was telling us not to "bind." This became linked in my mind to another thing I've heard about recently, "claiming." I still don't understand what that means.

The next float comes through via Paul, sponsored by the fine people of Ephesus. "And pray in the Spirit on all occasions (6:18)." Now, for the first five minutes that he's talking about this, I have NO IDEA what Lindell is actually saying. Then the ignorance passes to shock. Is he telling people to pray in tongues? I don't have any tongues. Well, I've got a little Spanish, and enough French to discriminate a black cat from a red rose. I'm being humorously (or, at least, intentionally) dense here. But, still...is he saying what I think he's saying? My throat closes. No pills shall pass. At this point, I start praying silently in English. Lord, deliver me from these pentecostals...

Then, he begins to talk about Jericho. Lindell talks often of Jericho. So, he's talking about the Israelites, and jumping up and down three times, hopping around, and shouting, and the walls coming down. And he throws up a half-dozen references to the necessity of shouting to the Lord. The crowd is getting riled up. I'm getting nervous. And we all stand up to shout to the Lord. I can't even yawp, and I love Robin Williams. I doubt that this will be my night to shout. I think to myself that maybe I'm just meant to love God quietly--with logic, and in scholarly journals. Then, a woman just behind me starts yawping, and shouting, and all sorts of groovy things. I think I might faint. Where's that freaking Xanax?

Then, friends, then, it happens. What I've been waiting twelve weeks for. I've seen it in documentaries. I've read about it. Behold, a live person speaking in tongues. HOLY COW. I'm torn...to faint, to jump up and down in excitement, to faint, to jump, to faint, to jump. My mother, my sister, my mother, my sister. It's happening...

Before that can do me in, the next act comes on stage. This woman who had been standing off to the side with her husband suddenly appears in the aisle down to the altar. She is walking with her arms stretched out, as though on a cross, holding a wide, rectangular prayer shawl that billows out behind her. She makes it to the altar, and holding her arms out like a large, charismatic bird, she begins to dance. To dance! This is where it gets good. I see Lindell whisper to the pastor next to him. The pastor next to him steps out and takes the woman's shoulder, clearly whispering something that amounts to "Please don't do that, you're freaking out the Episcopalian in the third row," and the woman retreats peacably.

Whew! It was a hot night at James River Assembly.

I want to be clear that though I do report these things in something of a humorous and distanced light, I'm not criticizing any of them (anymore). Frankly, I prefer a church with a mosh-less altar. And I don't object to the speaking of my spirit in praise of God. Anyone who has stood before a Pollock knows that the Spirit speaks succinctly where the intellect has no words. I can remember a time when kneeling, and crossing myself in the Episcopal parish brought almost paralyzing self-consciousnss. I got over it. I'm sure I'll get over this. But for now, I want to enjoy the sensations of new-ness, to revel in the uncertainty, and wonder.

My Lord has many houses. Though I don't agree with the theology of each, I see that their peculiar ways of worship have something to teach. Some special way of finding Him.

Guided always by Truth, I want to find Him every which way.