(Author’s Note: This started with direction and then sort of spiraled out on me. After sitting on it for way too long, I’m just releasing it’s imperfect self into the wild, because I think there are some things mentioned in here that people need to be talking about, and maybe some of you will resonate with some of those issues and write about them more eloquently than I do here.)
I think my least favorite part about growing up charismatic was the desperation.
My entire existence boiled down to this perpetual standard of “hunger”. How desperate was I for God?
Sometimes, I felt genuinely desperate, and ironically, those were the “good” times, because I could tell I was being genuine. Other times, I couldn’t quite muster up that emotional longing, but I sure would try, all the while berating myself for not being genuinely “hungry for more of God.”
I remember one time, I even came up with this surprisingly wise philosophy, where I reasoned that if I wasn’t longing for God, I could at least long to be longing for Him. And maybe… if that didn’t work, I could long to long to be longing for Him.
Why so intent on this hunger/longing/desperation?
Well… because that’s the only way God was going to move… to bring this thing called “revival” to a world that was on it’s way to Hell.
The word on the pulpit was that if I didn’t want our loving God to perpetually roast everyone for infinity and beyond, we needed to get millions of people SO desperate for God to move, that He would oblige.
But even more than that, I think the answer was that I really wanted to be God’s best friend. I wanted to be the one He picked to release His supernatural power and reconcile the world to Himself.
And I hated myself for not wanting that even more than I already did.