Acts 1:8 (NIV)
“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
CONSIDER THIS
Today’s Holy Spirit Story comes from yours truly, aka me, aka John David Walt. I wrote the first Holy Spirit Story in this ongoing series well over a year ago now. You will remember it as “Dirty Kroger.” I thought today would be a good day for another one.
As you may remember, I moved to the tiny town of Gillett, Arkansas, in July of 2023 to pastor the Gillett Methodist Church. I live in a parsonage just across the street from the church. It is simple, clean, spacious—even beautiful. Add to it my own bachelor-again signature style and let’s call it “mid-century monastic.” I’d love to give you a tour sometime. (I’ll need a week’s notice to be ready!)
As anyone who has done it knows, moving is a process. It happens in phases. The first phase is getting everything in. The second phase is getting everything sorted and placed. As there are always things you don’t know what to do with anymore, those tend to collect in a certain place. Regrettably, that place becomes something of a black hole with a gravity all its own. For me, that place became the little room between the kitchen and the laundry room. You’re familiar with “junk drawers.” Well, this quickly and then progressively became the “junk room.” For many people, this junk room has another name—garage. Unfortunately (or fortunately as the case may be), my mid-century monastic villa has what we call in these parts a carport.
That brings us to the dreaded third phase of moving. The first and second phases take us right up to the 90 percent done level. You know what we call the third phase, right? Declaring bankruptcy—also known as “Dealing with the junk room.” Black hole is an apt metaphor because the smaller the room the more it manages to collect and yet it seems to grow with the elasticity of a mother’s womb. Speaking of mothers, I’m sure mine regretted giving birth to me around the hundredth time she walked through the dreaded junk room, after working so hard to get me all moved in.
I didn’t know what to do. Week after week, I just kept putting stuff in there. The closets were all full with all the other stuff I didn’t know what to do with. And I absolutely refuse to get a storage unit, because that’s when you know you really have a problem, right? That last 10 percent slowly begins to affect the other 90 percent. Days become weeks and weeks months and now it’s 2024. I mean, for crying out loud, the parsonage committee still waits patiently to announce the open house and one can’t have an open house with a 911 junk room in the middle of it!
Isn’t life like like this? What starts as a junk drawer becomes a junk room. The food restriction turned into a full-blown eating disorder; the occasional “private” browsing tab on the phone metastasized into a raging porn addiction; the weekend glass of wine turned into an every night bottle and then a bottomless box in the pantry. The 10 percent can slowly and then quickly start to burn down the other 90 percent. And I know I need to get back to Bible and theology and what does any of this have to do with prayer anyway, right?
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. (Gen. 1:1–2)
In phase three or three hundred, when darkness has become formless and the junk room gets so full it has become emptiness—remember—the Spirit is still hovering over it all. On New Year’s morning, standing, once again, in the middle of the junk room, I knew exactly what I had to do. I grabbed a candle and the red glass sheath that had been rolling around in one of the boxes for the past twelve years (that’s another story for another day) and set it up in the small square window. There, standing in the only square foot of space left on the floor, hemmed in by all the piled-up junk, I lit the candle. And as the fire touched the wick, the Word of God, as though winged by the Holy Spirit himself, came across my lips:
LET THERE BE LIGHT.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. (Gen. 1:3–5)
Finally, after twenty-five years of wandering in the wilderness of endless activity and good intentions, I heeded the Word of the Lord to me:
CREATE SPACE FOR PRAYER
On the first day
of the twenty-fourth year
in the first century
of the second millennium
Anno Domini—
When Francis was the Pope of the Holy Roman Catholic Church
Biden the President of the United States of America, and
Charles the King of England
Fire touched the wick
of the Candle of the Presence.
The Beacon is lit
illuminating a new ante-chamber
of the Kingdom of Heaven;
the tiny space
between the kitchen and the laundry room
of the Methodist Parsonage
at 110 South Third Street
in Gillett, Arkansas.
Let there be Light!
THE PRAYER OF BEGINNING AGAIN
Abba Father, thank you for beginnings that never quite began because you are the God of new beginnings. You are the Author of the new thing that even now springs up. Help me; help us to perceive it. You are making a way in the wilderness and streams in the desert. Come Holy Spirit and create space for prayer in my heart of hearts. Flood my inmost being with the rising tide of your light, that my life might become a candle of your presence, a holy place of sanctuary. Make me a righteous person whose prayers are powerful and effective for the good of the world and the glory of God. Indeed, let there be light. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Praying in Jesus’s name, amen.
THE QUESTION
How is the Spirit stirring in your soul today? How might Jesus be translating the intentions of your heart into simple action? Are you sensing the invitation to begin or to begin again?
THE HYMN
Today we will sing our Saturday song, “Sanctuary.”
For the Awakening,
J. D. Walt
Sower-in-Chief
seedbed.com
P.S. Holy Spirit Stories Welcome
I would love it if you would send a story of faith from your life we might use on a Saturday in the future. We will be glad to attach your name or a pseudonym or anonymity—it’s up to you. It can be a story of coming to faith, a story of transformation, a story of healing, deliverance, suffering and sufficient grace, family reconciliation, prodigal returns, answered prayer, and so forth. A word count of 500–800 words works well. We can’t guarantee publication, but we assure you of our prayerful discernment. You can reply to this email with your story and it will come to me.
One Response
“And as the fire touched the wick, the Word of God, as though winged by the Holy Spirit himself, came across my lips.” I love it when that happens! Thanks, JD, for being so open and so willing to share from your heart!