Extravigant Simplicity

Praying for people has really become a lifestyle here on the World Race. My team and I have been praying for people at services, for people on the street, and for people in their homes. We pray radical things over them, for their ears to be opened, legs to walk, growths to go away, and seizures to end. Sometimes we see these extravagant miracles happen, and other times not. No matter what we see or do not see, I’ve noticed one common thing when praying for people. Simple truth is still heavy truth. 

    We stepped out of the church into the hot and dusty street when our ministry host approached us saying, “We need to pray.” There was a family with a little girl who has randomly had convulsions throughout her life. The medication to calm it was getting more and more expensive, and hope was becoming more and more scarce. When we entered the home everything seemed light, bright, and airy until we were escorted to the room where the girl lay. We ducked through an opening in a sheet metal wall into a dim-lit room. The little girl was lying on the bed with her stoic faced siblings and her worried mother pacing the corner of the room. 

    As we were praying for the little girl, I felt led to pray for her teary-eyed mother. I was trying to get a heavy revelation or some extravagant word for her before I stepped forward to pray, but I didn’t hear anything I was listening for. All God told me was, “Tell her I see her, I love her, and I am with her and her family in these trials and tribulations. Tell her no matter how far down the enemy pushes her, I will lift her up a hundred times fold.” I doubted the impact these words would make because they were so simple; everyone knows these truths, right? At least that’s what I thought. I was so wrong. As the translator and I prayed these things over the mother, she began WEEPING. She was crying so hard that we had to pray louder so she could hear us. When we were done praying, I hugged her and walked to the car in silence. Some of my teammates were commending me for praying for her, but the truth was the prayer that changed that woman’s life, I almost didn’t deem extravagant enough to even pray or release over her. This really got me thinking.

In American Christianity, we are conditioned to think we need to make the gospel extravagant as if it’s not enough on its own. We dress it up in fancy sermons, flashy lights, poetic spoken words, and beautifully built buildings. I’m not saying all of these things are bad, but if we are not careful, they can condition us to think we need to show off for the gospel as if it doesn’t show off for itself. The truth is, we can not add anything to the gospel no matter how hard to try. Radical love is radical love, no matter how we try to present it. Perhaps instead of trying to add on to the gospel, build our following, make our sermons more extravagant, or our worship more flashy, we need to simplify. The gospel is simple, so we should keep it simple. We just need the boldness to tell someone simple truth, to love people we are uncomfortable loving, and to see people who others consider as outcasts. 

Which gospel are you sharing, dear reader? A dressed-up version or the simple, powerful truth that Jesus died for?