When speaking of the supernatural workings of God, they are often better experienced than explained.

For most people, the work of the Holy Spirit comes unexpectedly—not something we can manufacture, predict, or even seek on our own timetable.

God gives His gifts to edify, encourage, and comfort others, both inside and outside the church. If we are neglecting or avoiding opportunities to serve those around us, it is unlikely we will experience much of the Spirit's moving power.

The wind of the Spirit often blows in the direction of love put into action.

Consider this example.

A woman struggles with her prayer life.

It feels dry and difficult,

and she wonders why she seems so distant from God.

One day she meets a poor, young single mother who is overwhelmed by the relentless, twenty-four-hour demands of caring for a baby.

With little experience in raising a child, the young mother feels alone, inadequate, exhausted, and discouraged.

The older woman quietly steps in.

She helps with household chores, shares practical wisdom she has learned over the years about calming a crying baby, prepares a few meals,

and even volunteers to watch the baby one evening each week so the young mother can simply rest, breathe, or enjoy a few hours of freedom.

Something begins to change.

When the older woman enters her prayer closet,

her heart is suddenly alive.

Words begin to pour out as she prays for this young mother.

The Lord meets her there, giving her insight she had never considered before, and filling her with a deep, overflowing love for someone who had recently been a complete stranger.

The wind of the Spirit has begun to blow.

Her compassion deepens,

her imagination fills with new ways to help,

and her affection extends even to the baby.

Her thoughts become occupied with love and with finding practical ways to express it.

She is now living under the gentle power and influence of the Holy Spirit in a way she has never known before.

She did not expect it.

She did not pursue it for its own sake.

She simply found herself resting in the joy of God's love flowing through her into another person's life.

All the prayer, Bible study, and worship in the world can become mere exercises if they never overflow into loving service.

Yet one simple act of self-forgetting love can open the heart to experience the living work of the Holy Spirit in ways that years of private devotion alone may never accomplish.

For me, more than through any other avenue, this is how the Holy Spirit revealed His gifts in my own life.

 
The Jail service was extra rich last night. As always, a wide range of ages, races and appearances. One man I'd estimate mid or late fifties, was British and had never been to church, but one of the brothers in his dorm had been talking to him about the Bible so he agreed to come. I bumped into the brother before the service so I knew the situation and my mind started thinking if I should do something a little different? Because I'm vividly aware of the stakes, and in many cases I have but one opportunity to reach them, I pledge to God I will treat that pulpit, and that time, with absolute sacredness as well as urgency. It's not lost on me that in the group of men, there are perpetrators of vicious crimes, domestic violence, sexual assault, bloodshed, and ever manner of evil, so trust me when I say, before I leave home to go there, I cry out to God to penetrate the room with the anointing of the Holy Spirit, to fall on every mind and move hearts and lives by His word and unction! Suffice to say, He ALWAYS answers that prayer! and I always leave shaking my head at how His presence permeated the room. That being said, I always come well prepared, but there are these spontaneous combustions where the Holy Spirit comes like fire! and moves me emotionally and I've learned not to hold it back or quench it. 

That was the case last night, my soul caught fire a number of times. I'll share one example because this was spontaneous; I was taking about the demon possessed man who lived in the tombs and was exceedingly violent because he had a "legion" of unclean spirits within. But when Jesus left Him "he was sitting, clothed, and in his right mind." Mk. 5:15 I paused and asked, 'what does it mean to be in your right mind?'  

I'll tell you what it means! -  you're at a family gathering and your four year old son or grandson calls out while rushing to you: smiling, filled with excitement and glee, holding a jar with a bug he captured saying, look, look what I have!  I paused, stepped away from the pulpit, sat down in a chair and said: you then, open your arms and say "Oh! bring it hear so I can see! And he has your full attention! for as long as he wants! That's one example of what it means to be in your right mind! I stood back up and got behind the pulpit and made a quick survey of the men and noticed one man, sixties, thin, missing a tooth, faced lined with sorrow, slumping in his chair sobbing. I didn't stare, and this man has come a number of times and always sat stoically, but tonight he broke down. I suspect this man is no first time offender, and I also think he's missed out on more experiences than we can number. 

Another 30 year old man, clean cut, tall, handsome and one would expect him to say he was a college professor or some dignified position. But he too, lost his son because of his violent drunken assaults that have led to prison time more than once. He stayed after the service and we talked at length as he poured out his losses, but also shared how his faith has grown, how he has cried out to God and repented and is brimming with hope. 

After the service all the men wanted to shake my hand and thank me, so I didn't have but a few seconds to talk to the British fella, I really was curious what he thought, but all he said was, "I'll come back."  

"It is a sad reality that prayer, 

though surely the sweetest and easiest of all duties, 

is often the one we avoid most. 

It requires no exhausting labor, 

no weariness of body, 

no strain on the eyes, 

no conflict with our natural desires, and brings no sickness—

only comfort and even greater hope. 

Yet we are strangely reluctant to pray, 

impatient with its length, 

and quick to find excuses to neglect it. 

There is no clear reason for this reluctance; 

nothing in the nature of prayer itself, or in the duty it requires, 

that explains why we resist it.

We are so bound to the desires of this world 

that we lose our taste for the things of the Spirit. 

The glories of heaven can only be appreciated by those 

who have learned to turn from the world's empty appetites 

and delight instead in the richer feast of God.”  Jeremy Taylor.

"Another form of ridicule we should avoid is mocking people when they show genuine emotion. 

The finer feelings—love, awe, pity, or poetic inspiration—are delicate and easily discouraged. They flourish best in private or among sympathetic people, and quickly withdraw when observed with indifference or contempt.

Picture an open-hearted young person watching a powerful tragedy. If everyone around is moved, the tears flow freely. But if one person shoots them a look of sneering indifference, the emotion dies instantly. They blush for having felt deeply and shut down. 

Ridicule is a dangerous weapon. Even a mild sneer can instantly kill anything noble or tender. Those who habitually mock others cut themselves off from the highest pleasures of both art and morality. 

This is especially damaging to young people. It stifles their natural openness and generosity, replaces it with unhealthy self-consciousness, and robs them of the ability to fully enjoy heroic ideals or generous actions." Anna Lititia Barbauld. 

 

In counseling men and women at the jail and in missions,

Hands down, the most frequent cause of getting sidetracked is

Infatuation.

The following quote is about infatuation

and it is a letter

written to a mother to inform her that her daughter, Flora,

Has been bitten by the infatuation bug and certainly

Must be in grave danger!

Never have I read anything so captivating and expressive

explaining how an infatuated person sees their lover.

This was written in the 1700s and we would certainly

Describe it in different terms today,

but never so well.

“Dear Madam, I think it my duty,

as well from the high esteem I bear yourself,

as from the tender and solicitous affection I feel for your lovely daughter,

to inform you of an affair between her and one who

has lately been fluttering about her;

and for whom,

young as she is,

she seems to have conceived an extraordinary fondness.

Of this you will be convinced, madam,

when I assure you,

she often walks in the fields purposely to meet him;

and on her return, I have seen her lips and cheeks

improved in their color by his kisses.

It is but within these few weeks that this lover of hers

has frequented the environs of Hampstead,

for he spent the winter between Lisbon and the Canary Islands;

and since his return,

which by her has been passionately longed for,

her fondness for walking has been much more apparent.

Her excursions to the Heath,

and her parties to West-end,

particularly when she gave me the slip the other day,

have been all planned with the hope of meeting him.

Nor can I wonder, indeed,

that she admires so pretty a fellow;

for he is a light airy being like herself,

as playful and as frolicsome.

He dresses in a light garment of the thinnest blue silk,

fluttering in a thousand different folds.

His breath is made up of sighs,

and perfumed with violets;

and his whispers, especially at this season of the year,

have a certain prevailing languishment and softness in them,

that few can resist.

He is fond of caressing the opening roses;

and no birth night beau is more powerfully scented

than he is with every blossom of the spring.

I am sorry to say, madam, your daughter absolutely courts this fickle

and faithless lover,

and she allows him liberties which a prudent mother like yourself

must tremble at.

He delights to play with her fair hair;

sometimes he throws it over her forehead,

and almost covers her face with it.

Sometimes he takes a single lock, and plays it about her temples;

And then he spreads her tresses all over her graceful shoulders;

and then lifts them up, or gently parts them,

to discover the elegant turn and whiteness of her neck,

giving them all the while a thousand kisses.”

 

Religion in Three Views

"A thoughtful and elegant writer once observed that religion can be considered in three different ways.

As a system of opinions, its only goal is truth. Reason is the faculty involved here, exercised through the freest and most impartial inquiry.

As a principle regulating conduct, religion is a habit. Like all habits, it grows slowly and gains strength only through repeated practice.

But religion can also be seen as a taste—an affair of sentiment and feeling. In this sense, it is properly called devotion. It resides in the imagination and the passions. Its source is that natural relish for the sublime, the vast, and the beautiful—the same sensibility that lets us enjoy poetry and other works that speak to our finer emotions. This feeling is heightened by a sense of gratitude for personal blessings.

 Devotion is to a large degree constitutional; it is not found in exact proportion to a person’s moral virtue.

It is this third view of religion—the devotional, affectionate side—that the following observations address. 

While almost everyone acknowledges religion’s value as a rule of life and its teachings have been defended with plenty of zeal, its emotional side is languishing. The spirit of devotion is at a very low ebb among us. 

Surprisingly, it has fallen into a kind of contempt and is treated with indifference by many people who pride themselves on the purity of their beliefs and the sweetness of their morals.

Religious affections rise and fall with our moods and are strongly influenced by anything that affects the imagination. They can therefore run into strange excesses. When shaped by a melancholy or overly enthusiastic faith, they can overwhelm a weak mind or delicate constitution. For this reason, many genuinely pious people have almost banished strong emotion from religious worship. Our age tends to allow little room for sentiment. All warm and generous emotions are dismissed as romantic by the supercilious gaze of a cold-hearted philosophy. 

The man of science, with an air of superiority, leaves such matters to florid preachers who stir up the passions of the lower classes—where devotion is so mixed with noise and nonsense that it naturally disgusts more refined and better-informed minds.

Yet there exists a noble devotion—generous, liberal, and humane—that springs from higher feelings than narrow minds can grasp. It raises human beings toward higher natures and lifts them “above this visible diurnal sphere.” Its pleasures are of the highest kind. 

When cultivated early, they remain vivid even in later life, when some passions have cooled, imagination has faded, and the heart begins to contract. Those who lack this taste are missing a genuine sense—a part of their nature—and should not presume to judge feelings they can never experience. 

No one claims to be a judge of poetry or the fine arts without both a natural and a cultivated appreciation for them. Why, then, should the narrow-minded children of earth, absorbed in low pursuits, dare to dismiss as visionary those things they have never taken the trouble to understand? Silence on such subjects would suit them better.

The present purpose is not to defend the pleasures of devotion to those who have neither taste nor knowledge of them. Instead, it is worth asking: what causes have weakened religious impressions among people who hold steady principles and are well disposed toward virtue?

The Damage Done by Constant Disputation

Nothing is more harmful to the feelings of a devout heart than the habit of arguing about religious subjects. Free inquiry is certainly necessary to establish a rational belief. But a disputatious spirit and fondness for controversy give the mind a skeptical turn, making it quick to question even the most established truths. It is impossible to maintain the deep reverence we ought to feel toward the Deity when all His attributes—even His very existence—are tossed about in familiar debate. Candor requires that we grant an opponent complete freedom of speech, yet in the heat of discussion it is hard to avoid careless or irreverent expressions. As a result, people who think about religion less often, often treat it with more respect than those whose profession keeps it constantly before them. A plain, serious person would likely be shocked to hear religious questions handled with the casual ease common among practiced theologians or lively young academics fresh from logic and metaphysics classes.

Just as the ear loses its delicacy when constantly exposed only to coarse language, so our veneration for religion wears away when we hear it treated lightly—even when we ourselves are defending it. This explains why many who have strengthened their intellectual belief in religion have never recovered the strong, affectionate sense of it they once possessed. They are surprised to find their devotion weaker precisely when their faith is better grounded.

Strong reasoning powers and quick, deep feelings rarely coexist in the same person. Those of a scientific turn seldom open their hearts fully to impression. Preoccupied with their own systems, they may attend religious services, but they remain on guard, constantly checking whether every sentiment aligns with their particular tenets.

The spirit of inquiry is easily distinguished from the spirit of disputation. A state of doubt is painful, anxious, and distressing. It naturally produces humility and modesty. Anyone who has not yet settled their opinions on important matters, if they are seeking truth honestly, will proceed with deep humility, genuine earnestness, and serious attention to every argument. Such a person will prefer to ponder ideas privately rather than use them as ammunition for debate.

Even with these good dispositions, it is fortunate when a person does not need to make sweeping changes to the religious system they have embraced. A total revolution in belief usually shocks the religious feelings so severely that they seldom regain their original strength and tone."

Anna Letitia Barbaund.

 

This allegory, loosely taken from Greek mythology, 

explains the origin and purpose of pity.

"In humanity's innocent "Golden Age," 

Love and Joy were meant to be united forever.

 But after people fell into sin and corruption, 

heaven withdrew from the earth. 

Love remained, but instead of marrying Joy, 

he was commanded to marry Sorrow. 

Their daughter was Pity, 

who inherited her father's tenderness and her mother's sadness.

Pity is gentle, compassionate, and deeply moved by suffering. 

She teaches people to weep, not because sorrow is good in itself, 

but because tears soften the heart and awaken compassion. 

Her mission is to follow Sorrow wherever she goes, 

healing the wounds that suffering leaves behind 

and comforting the brokenhearted.

The story ends with the promise that Pity and Sorrow are only temporary. 

Because Sorrow is mortal, she and Pity will one day pass away, 

and Love will finally be reunited with Joy, as was always intended.

Central meaning: Human suffering has disrupted the original harmony of creation, 

but it has also given birth to pity—

the compassionate love that comforts those who suffer. 

Pity exists only because sorrow exists, and when sorrow finally ends, 

pity will no longer be needed. 

Love and Joy will once again reign together."

Anna Lititia Barbauld. 

 

"A king once offered a reward for anyone who could invent a new pleasure. The author suggests that the person who invented a truly new form of torture or horror would actually deserve more praise from writers of entertainment.

The goal of this essay is to explore why some kinds of suffering feel satisfying or moving when shown in stories, while others simply repel us. Plain, unfiltered misery is never enjoyable to watch. We do feel strong sympathy for suffering, but that sympathy is just raw pain—similar to what we’d feel ourselves, only milder. It doesn’t produce the warm, melting sorrow we call pity. These are two different emotions with very different physical signs: Raw sympathetic pain makes us tense up, shudder, and grimace.

True pity relaxes the face, softens the features, and brings tears.

When we step on a disgusting bug, we may flinch in shared discomfort, but it’s nothing like the tender sadness we feel for Odysseus’s old dog, who recognized his master after twenty years, wagged his tail, and died. 

Extreme physical agony, by itself, doesn’t make good tragedy. Watching someone scream from a toothache or undergo surgery would not be moving—it would just be horrible. 

For suffering to become pleasing or produce real pity, it needs something else mixed in: love, admiration, or beauty of character. We need to care about the person and respect them.        Their pain and danger then make their virtues more touching. Tears come more from tenderness than from sorrow alone. Tenderness can make us cry even in moments of joy.        In fact, any distress that brings tears almost always contains some hidden pleasure. 

Pure suffering without any redeeming quality simply hurts."

Anna Latitia Barbauld.

 Jail joys

One of life's greatest pleasures is sharing the joy of discovery. And when you have a group of men in front of you where the only shred of self-esteem left in them is if they are perceived as tough, macho and worldly wise. I've long since learned they don't need to be told they are sinners, the heart of every inmate is vividly aware of their sins.

 The guilt and toxic shame is hidden behind walls of pride and bravado and they need not be reminded. Oh! but what they haven't heard is that Christ seeks the boy in them, the child that desperately needs to be told they have value, they matter, they actually have a Father, unlike theirs that came home with whiskey breath, seeking to find fault, any fault. When the truck parks that brought Dad home from work, it was something that sent fear and alarm and they rushed to their room or out the back door. When you hear your mother futilely try to pacify his ill nature and hot temper before it breaks into violence, as the shrieks and sounds of things breaking resulting in your own mother huddled in a flood of tears. And you sit utterly helpless, feeling a weight of guilt no child should ever shoulder. 

Soothing a sin sick soul, offering hope to the hopeless, lifting up the downcast, these are the joys of sharing the gospels life affirming message that sends rays of light and hope into hardened and parched souls. To have the joy and privilege of waving the blood stained banner over the least, last and lost;  watching a beam of light come into their eyes, hope in hopelessness, man! give me Jesus! let me share the "old, old story how a Savior came from glory, how He gave His life on Calvary to save a wretch like me."