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The storm gathered that Wednesday evening, right on schedule. One by one, expectant men and women found places around the room and, after initial murmurs, fell silent. The Holy Spirit, the evening’s invited guest, entered the place prepared for Him as still as the pause between lightning and thunder.
It began with one thin prayer. “Father God, heavenly King, hear our pleas…..” The supplication gathered momentum and became a vapor that rose in chorus as voices joined one another. First came praise, “You reign in might and power, Oh God, and we glorify your Holy Name;” then repentance, “Forgive me, Oh Lord, for my disobedience and selfish sin;” and thanks, “You have generously provided, Lord Jesus. Thank you, Oh, Lord.”
The prayers, like condensation, rode a thunderhead, piercing its anvil-flat top, clinging to particles of hope, nuclei of faith. They rose in a great plume toward the heavenlies, where they coalesced from tiny droplets into running atmospheric streams of living water. Behind and below, pressure continued to build from constant ascending petition.
“Remember your servants…”
“Protect us from the evil one…”
“Cleanse my heart….”
The surge created a great wind, twisting and circling, occasionally whispering into this ear or that heart. From there, it raced directly to the throne of the Almighty. Finally, when the weight of the storm’s acquired power exceeded its energy, it fell in a torrent. The Holy Spirit, heavy and transcendent, blanketed the gathered company, now prone and still. They had no more words and needed none.
One by one, each man and woman rose to go home, mercifully refreshed, but not drowned. Another Wednesday night.
“For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.” Matt 18:20
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