on before me.

I am ashamed. I'm not kidding.

Sometimes, I don't know how much is too much on this blog, and I find myself admitting things I maybe shouldn't. But I do believe, in some corner of my heart, that my experiences might provide encouragement or vision to someone in a similar, or entirely different, situation. Thus, I'm all about honesty. Or, I try to be all about honesty--with God, with myself, and with anyone who cares to read.

So, I am ashamed.

I can't get my fingers to type the words, so I'll just shoot them out all in a rush: Iprayedtoprayinthespirit.

Wince. Ouch. It looks worse in print than it does in my head. That's it. This is the beginning of the end. My delightful quirkiness is passing into all-out weirdness in front of your very eyes. Oy, I pray to God that any non-pentecostal friends reading this get struck blind. Just for a second. Maybe just over this post.

I'd like to say that I prayed in a sort of non-committal way, you know, out of intellectual interest, or "gee whiz, that'd be somethin' new!" -- Not true. Just not true. I prayed passionately, and wholly, and somewhat desperately, to .. you know. I'm not gonna type it again.

It's like this: Wednesday night's message was difficult. The pastor preached on the boldness of asking for the big and small, and believing in a sure response. I just can't fall in with that. Not that I think we shouldn't ask, but God isn't a vending machine. Sometimes He'll make your car start, and sometimes He Won't, and sometimes the car was going to start anyway, and that's just all a mystery.

So as I'm in this service, I feel my blood start to boil. I'm getting angry! But I really don't know why. I disagree. Done. What's to get angry about? Then, we pray in small groups, and my anger is unfathomable. I'm cursing in prayer! (In my head.) And I hear myself silently shout to God, "Fine! You want to be a God who answers prayer? Send a message. Let someone speak a message into the room right now, WITH an interpretation, please." And I latch onto this prayer as though my very life depends on it, knowing full well that to make a demand of God is ridiculous. It's worse than ridiculous, but let's not get into that here.

Then, in seconds, I pass into worship. I'm standing there, angry, and somehow hurt, and more than little annoyed, and wondering if I should just walk out, but how weird that will be to the people around me, and I'm past the point of being able to pull crap like that, and I just ask myself... "If no one speaks in tongues, if no prophesy comes into the room tonight, does that make God any less God, or good?" Of course not. "Is He still God?" Yes. "Is He still unfathomably kind?" Yes. "Does He still love you outrageously?" Yes. "And you Him?" Yes. Then worship. He is big enough to handle your anger, and confusion, and hurt. But whatever you ask for ought to be asked in love, and with an acute sense of His sovereignty. Go then, and ask for what you need, not what you want merely to satisfy some whim of anger.

So I worshiped. My anger fell into a broken heart. A confused heart. And I left feeling a little alone, and a lot uncertain. And on the way home, I prayed to pray differently. To connect with God in a way I had not. To feel His spirit in a way I have not.

The prayer felt natural in the moment. I was in crisis. To pray for more of God, and a deeper well of Spirit felt right. But I am completely aware of how "out there" the request was. How much of a drawn line it really is.

I have a feeling that it would be the last straw in my supposed sanity, for secular friends. I can check out a Pentecostal church, and even begin attending one. I can have Pentecostal friends, as long as I can still see the things that are weird about them. The womens' conference was pushing it. My using the phrase "Oh my word," accidentally has established some incredulity. But anything about tongues, particularly mine, would probably call down a full-blown intervention.

For the record, both prayers (for the message, and the tongues) went unanswered. And His sovereignty, and His grace, and His love still go on before me.