Revival

By Chadwick Anderson

(Photos courtesy of The Asbury Collegian; used with permission)

As we pray the revival happening at Asbury University would happen throughout our churches and beyond, the Spirit asks, “Why wait?”

While we pray for revival wherever we find ourselves, we also must be aware that often we use “waiting” as a way of staying comfortable. Meanwhile, the Spirit has been poured out and is on the move.

Are we willing to humble ourselves, repent (turn away) of our false sources of life — and join what God is up to?

Here is a spoken word poem I wrote a few years ago that seems relevant now. (Click here to listen to it with music.)

Revival – the arrival of something that we could not bring
We could not sing loud enough or long enough to make such things occur
Often blurring the lines of high emotions and intense prayer
As if the air could be charged by our words alone, but when the phone is disconnected
It doesn’t matter how authentically you yell in the receiver.

The deceiver would love for us to keep yelling. To keep buying what they’re selling
Pride in our ability to continue to abide, taking all things in stride,
Chins held high and looking for new ways to avoid humiliation
Whether for our home or for our nation, seeking just enough sensation
A dash of humility to embrace our hunt for self-preservation, and wondering why
Our revivals just seem to sell more books, albums and tickets.
But leave us in the thickets with full shelves and empty hearts.

The problem starts at the foundation — in our frustration we must pause
And confess that His strength might actually be our flaws.
The humility of praying for revival is the confession that something is past,
Or passed away, the decay of death, the gasping for breath,
And the stench has begun to settle.

God wants to do more than meddle with our lives.
He offers life itself, but to accept means to confess
Not that we’re a mess, but that without such life we’re dead
Cut off from the head, a body prone to lay and stay where it is.
And this truth is not something a world in motion easily hears.

Our fears run deep, and anxiety creeps in, telling us to spin the truth
Make it something easier to carry, and we bury the lede.
Not allowing Him to intercede on our behalf, we laugh it off as genuine joy
And toy with things like worship, prayer, and salvation
While God patiently waits for us to return. To offer him the urn
Within which we ashes dance, to give him the chance to bring flesh to these bones
Stones finally joined by our voices, our choices no longer our own, dethroned
And owned finally by the One who bled
Who has become our head, and our life
Cutting away falsehood like a hot knife through the butter of our content
Lives spent completely without keeping the receipts
Seats unfirmly planted without taking for granted each sacred moment.

The arrival of revival — we realize it’s not something we await
(and this is so great)
But it’s something we become aware of, as God above
Long ago breathed out His Spirit
And His breath
Has never left
Has never ceased
Has only increased.

The kingdom that was coming
Continues to arrive
Through those dead — made alive
Beyond just a Savior to believe in,
But before we can breathe in
We must breathe … out…

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