2 Corinthians 3:17-18 Now the Lord is the Spirit: and where the Spirit of the Lord is, `there’ is liberty. But we all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, even as from the Lord the Spirit.
Revivals, that is, genuine Divinely ordained seasons of the activity of God among men, have a universally unusual character. Normal activities and behaviors give way to the tangible influence of God’s Holy Spirit, whose inspiration brings a freedom of expression, emotion, conviction, worship, and other variations from normal experience.
Students of revival have observed certain patterns in the development of these social/spiritual events, one of which is the strong tendency of men to apply structure to the unfettered activity of the Spirit. Time and again, revival gives way to human intervention, which yields such phenomena as denominations, ministries, organizations, etc. The glorification of significant agents of God, preachers, teachers, or prophetic voices produces these institutional expressions, which begin to lose the vitality of the original revival, and eventually actually inhibit or severely limit the Divine enthusiasm engendered by God’s real presence.
Consider that the birth of the Methodist church did not begin until John Wesley, the great revivalist, had actually passed away. Wesley had never intended to break from the Church of England, but when the Church defrocked him, he was forced to preach outdoors, and his anointed life produced an open-air revival affecting thousands. Wesley himself did not form the Methodist Church in England, others did, turning the revivalist into a denomination after he died.
William Booth was a prominent Methodist evangelist and later was barred from peaching in 1861 from all Methodist congregations. He and his wife began tent meetings in Whitechapel in East London. He soon formed the “Christian Revival Society,” which later became “The Salvation Army.” The rest is history…
The delicate balance between order and freedom is easily upset. What we know is that humans tend toward taking a level of control, which eventually inhibits the work of the Spirit of God. God’s work can look “messy” when He is upsetting the status quo in order to get our attention and draw us to Himself during these Divine interruptions we call “revival.” But He knows how to build His church, and we don’t. He told us to make disciples, not build His church. True revivals give us more souls to work with, bless and build up. That’s a good thing.
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When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Tonight we’ll participate in the Independence Day celebration in Israel — and what a party! — shows, fireworks, music, dancing, everything under the sun!
Yesterday, Israel observed Yom HaShoah—Holocaust Remembrance Day—honoring the memory of the six million Jews who perished. Tragically, a recent poll reveals that nearly half of Israelis fear the possibility of another Holocaust. In light of this sobering reality, I want to share a powerful story of one remarkable woman who rescued 2,500 Jewish children from the ghettos during World War II.
One night a house caught fire and a young boy was forced to flee flames by jumping to the ground from the roof. His father stood on the ground below with outstretched arms, calling to his son, “Jump! I’ll catch you.” But the boy was afraid — he couldn’t see his father — all he could see was flame, smoke, and blackness. He was afraid. Still, his father kept yelling: “Jump son! I will catch you!” But the boy refused, crying, “Daddy, I can’t see you!” His father replied, “It’s ok son — I can see you — and that’s all that matters!”
After forty years of wandering in the wilderness, Israel finally crossed into the Promised Land—on the 10th day of Nissan, the very day they had been commanded to choose their Passover lamb [Exodus 12:3 , Joshua 4:19]. They couldn’t enter into their inheritance until a lamb was chosen—a powerful foreshadowing of the more excellent Lamb to come, in preparation for the Passover [Joshua 5:10], they were about to observe at Gilgal.
In the days of Yeshua (Jesus), the cross was an instrument of death, and crucifixion, a horrible method of torture. Over the next 200 years, in light of the Lord’s resurrection, the cross became identified with Christian faith and was transformed into a symbol of life and hope. Yeshua was able to turn it upside down, transforming an instrument of death into a symbol of life.