#judgesbecray

[huntergoebel]

Week 3 SOMD Intimacy with God and Blazing Foxes

Ywam Los Angeles

So last week I gave you guys a really lengthy (but necessary) origin story to my walk with God.  This week is different!  This week I've been practicing a better "Outward Mindset" to right my wrong relationships, but not just for my sake or theirs, but for the sake of His kingdom being built here.  

My week started out with a new speaker at my school.  Kenny Peavy was his name, and his topic was somewhat of a mystery.  To this day, I still don't know what he was actually supposed to talk about. However, he ushered in the Holy Spirit and from there it was awesome every session.  He immediately got us in the temperament of letting the Spirit lead his lectures, our mindsets, our prayers, and eventually our character.  For me, the Holy Spirit showed me an intimacy with God that was unknown to me, but still felt extremely familiar.  The first night, Kenny challenged us that anytime the Holy Spirit speaks, He moves us to a new place, whether that’s in attitude or spirit or both.  I've really been caught up in believing I had already "peaked" in my knowledge of how exactly He does, and always will, interact with me.  Dang, I was so wrong.

In worship that night, God asked me if I could kneel in prayer to him, which I don't really remember ever doing in prayer, or worship for that matter.  I did kneel, and then had one of the most intense encounters with the Holy Spirit I've ever had.  It wasn't as if the kneeling itself was some mystical solution to an equation, rather it was a way of submission and of response to him taking my heart to a new place.  I heard God clearer than I had in quite a long while and when I asked, He answered.  I felt like a son.  I thought I had separated my idea of God from my idea of my earthly Dad, but I guess i hadn't.  My dad wasn't harsh but he was always so stoic growing up, he never really wrestled with me, and he avoided things like hugs and touchy affection.  I knew dad loved me to death, but he just was not affectionate.  

Now, everybody talks about God being "Papa" which made me super uncomfortable, and still does.  People talk about his Spirit being intimate and playful and close, which I just figured was how he was with 'those' people; not me.  As soon as I got on my knees, God met me in the affectionate way that I had wanted to dream about. I called him “Dad” for the first time and it didn't feel like I was talking to some hard-boiled Dad like my own. It felt like I was talking to to the actually gentle and intimate Dad that God is to us. The biggest feeling I felt that I'm able to describe perfectly is “rest”. For the first time in years, I felt like my soul was in a state of actual rest, amidst all my sin and angst and clouded hope.  All that inner confusion, stress, and bitterness was gone and I just got to be God's child for a little while.  That would've been enough for me, but it doesn't stop there.  I know I can feel that intimacy all the time if I let Him.  To make that happen, from now on, He’s not just my father, He’s my Dad.  Since then, 6 days prior writing this, I've done it!  I've been letting God make me uncomfortable in order to bring me comfort.  It’s really tragic and really beautiful.  I'll tell you know more about how it’s going in blogs to come.  

Next on this weeks agenda, we went camping.  Not just camping, but hiking. Not just hiking, but climbing a mountain, with all of our supplies. I'm not built for hiking, but I did it.  As a matter of fact, I hiked 21 miles all weekend, up and down Mt. Wilson like nobodies business. We learned a little bit about contemplative prayer, which God did a lot more work in me with the whole “intimacy with God” thing.  It was a great trip!  I needed the work out.  I’ve been real flabby the past couple years.  The hikes pushed me past what I thought I could actually climb.  I hurt all over, but I got to know my class really well.  If I ever have to hike or climb or scale any more mountains, I hope i get to do with it with them.  It sounds a bit cheesy, but they really did inspire me to keep going at times, and I can only hope that I was able to help them when they needed it.  

Also I read Ruth, Judges, and 1st Samuel, which are a few of my favorite books to read.  People were weird back then.  In case you forgot, one time Samson caught 300 foxes, and proceeded to tie there tails together in twos.  Oh yeah, WITH TORCHES ABLAZE BETWEEN THEM.  Don't worry, it gets better. Somehow the guy finds a way to transport and coordinate 150 PAIRS OF FOXES with LIT TORCHES through multiple philistine fields; standing grain, vineyards and olive groves to be exact.  Just imagine, you got your little Hebrew tunic attire all hiked up, you're sprinting at full sneak speed around the dry Canaanite wilderness, catching maybe your 2nd fox?  You just put it in the 2nd wooden fox cage of 300 cages you've just made, maybe bought.  Who knows?  From somewhere in your masculine spirit you are deriving enough ambition to seek out and capture an additional 298 (fairly elusive) foxes to fill the other 298 wooden fox cages you've acquired by questionable means.  During this jubilee, do you ever stop and wonder how many foxes there may possibly be in this area you've chosen? Fast forward like, Oh, I don't know, several days of fox catching, in which you've had to probably feed these foxes smaller (potentially more elusive) rodents you probably also had to catch.  Suddenly you are faced with the dilemma of delivering 300 cages of foxes on your families hand-me-down donkey-drawn cart across a desert like environment.  After 30 or so trips to that weird and annoying neighbors fields, you alone, make 300 torches capable of being tied to live animals.  After trial and error, you finally utilize a way to tie all these lit torches, to living, snarling, (depending if you've fed them, very hungry), very pissed foxes, two at a time.  Your arms are bit up, several of the foxes have excreted out of fright, and you are at your wits end (clearly), but you’ve proven you can pretty much tame a few hundred foxes.  Then the final task ahead of you; to direct the foxes with the perfect trajectory to burn your weird neighbors grain, vineyards and olive groves.  After the maybe first 6 or 7 pairs of foxes, you notice that they’ve only made it 20 yards in random directions before they’ve set themselves ablaze. You ignore the whiling fox screams and keep on keepin' on because you're a man and you can't let your people down.  You've made it this far; don't stop now.  Finally, fox pair number 13 has actually rain into a field and it's started a small flame.  There, a little satisfaction in the fire that is reflected in your pupils.  A slim grin can be barely noticed through your filthy beard.  Only 137 pairs to go...