New Normal (Beauty for Ashes Pt.2)

The scent from the multiple flower arrangements filled the atmosphere and danced among the twinkling lights. It was as if they were dancing in sync with the soft worship music that was playing in the background. The women started trickling in, but they didn’t stop coming. By the time we started our final Beauty for Ashes service, we had a whole whopping 36 women in the room. Not a single one of them aware of the divine appointment God had set up for them that evening. If I’m honest, I don’t think any of us were prepared for what was about to happen. 

 

I was glad to see so many women there, but I was super excited to see D among all of them. She brought a friend who was a man and we thought, “If God wants to bring him to a women’s event to reach him so be it!” We may not have been expecting him, but God had been and saved him a seat. With that, the service began. 

 

As the stary night sky fell onto the horizon. The Holy Spirit fell into the room. His presence grew thicker and thicker by the moment. We finally started to wrap up the service with worship. Where we thought we were wrapping up, the Holy Spirit was just getting started. I’m not entirely sure what is typical of Guatemalan culture, but from my short experience here I’d say it’s safe to assume vulnerability isn’t smiled upon, much less crying in a room full of people. Despite social norms, D was the first to break down crying, pioneering the way for every other woman in the room to be vulnerable and cry as well.

 

I sat in front of D and held her shaking hands. I couldn’t understand her. She couldn’t understand me. That didn’t undermine the power of presence. As I was sitting and praying with her, I noticed her male friend had also started crying. I motioned to Nolo, another man in the room, to pray for our new friend. Nolo, in the middle of leading worship, quickly set down his guitar and hurried alongside him.

 

I wonder what church would look like if, like Nolo, we were quick to set down our microphones, our instruments, or media boards and come alongside a hurting brother or sister. I understand it would be a little unorganized and a little messy, but I don’t think any revival has ever been organized and neat. The Holy Spirit doesn’t care about our capacity for uncomfortably or vulnerability. He doesn’t care about our social norms or language barriers. He doesn’t care about our structures or schedules. He cares about individuals and rushes to their side, no matter what is going on. Why isn’t the way the Holy Spirit does church the way I’m used to doing church? 

 

No matter what those women came in expecting, they didn’t leave the same. I didn’t even leave the same. It has been years since I have seen the Holy Spirit fall on every single person in a room like that, freedom and tears on every face. I guess over time, it became normal to see that happen less and less. It really is time for a new normal.

 

 God, keep changing my normal.