What a strange day. Woke-up at 4:30 AM with a headache that didn’t go away until about 1:30. Consequently, missed church (watched sermon online – twice), attended an installation service for a new pastor (Doug was providing the music), ministered to a young woman, had a short hour with my grandbabies, and then went to see “The Jesus Music” movie.
Now, it’s 4:30 in the morning, again, and I’m still awake with a sore neck. Very strange day. So emotional to watch the early part of that movie, when they were talking about the Jesus Movement in Southern California. I really miss the days when people talked about how much they loved Jesus and couldn’t wait to get to the altar to pray. It wasn’t just in that season, of course. There have been other seasons when we found ourselves gathering with friends to pray and seek the Lord, crying out to Him with soggy eyes and running noses. Were Hannah’s begging God for a son of promise.
The altars are always open at our church. Why aren’t I falling on my knees in prayer every week? I guess I’m waiting for someone else to go first, someone else to start. It’s one of those strange games we play, isn’t it? Someone has to be the first to clap, the first to shout “Hallelujah,” the first to fall on their knees at the altar. I guess I can be the first. I can’t quite fall on my knees these days, and getting up won’t be very pretty, but I love to meet the Lord the altar. It is just a carpeted platform in the natural, but in the spirit it’s a holy place—a place where burdens have been laid, requests have been shared, and Heaven has opened up.