Flood LA

To start off the outreach we went to LA for 10 days leading up to Azusa Now. It was more than just an event, and the repercussions of it will echo throughout eternity. We called the ten days before the event “Flood LA.” This involved worship and team trainings in the morning and night, with a few hours of outreach in between. It was like everything that I learned for the past three months I was able to pour out, and you know what? people want it. America is so hungry for the gospel. They are hungry for the raw, unhindered, unrelenting love of Jesus. When they see people walking in the freedom of expressing his love, their hearts begin to hope again. We didn’t waste any time there, but dove straight into our ministry. The first week was spent in one of four LA communities. The one my team was assigned to was Evergreen, a poverished Hispanic community. Our days were spent telling people about Jesus and inviting them to two events we were having in the park at the end of the week. The openness of people’s hearts was astounding. Everyone wanted to hear. Everyone listened to our testimonies of what God had done in our lives and wanted to do in theirs. We saw healings, salvations, and deliverances.

The following week we were on the UCLA campus. There wasn’t the same openness as Evergreen, but that couldn’t stop us. Day 2 we walked into a hospital asking if we could visit patients and pray for them. When they wouldn’t let us, we just prayed for everyone outside the hospital and in the cafeteria. A few of us were able to get the permission of a visiting family to pray for their hospitalized family member. They were shocked when the prayer actually worked and the pain left the patient. We were just done with living a lifestyle of hindered love. The next day we stood by UCLA’s bear statue giving the message, “Anyone who wants freedom from fear, anxiety, and depression come and receive prayer and be set free today!”

One student didn’t have time, so I walked beside him, asking if I could pray for him. He said he had a lot of stress, so I prayed that the Holy Spirit would give him peace. He stopped and looked at me. “Do you feel anything?” I asked, not expecting much. “I feel like a ton of stress just lifted off my shoulders.” He was hooked. I then shared with him how Jesus came to give peace, and if he follows Jesus he can have that peace all the time. He nodded and I let him continue to class. Jesus has marked us to heal and bring freedom. When we move in crazy faith and outlandish obedience the Holy Spirit has a tendency to show up.

Azusa Now was a releasing of what God has been building within us. It was the tipping point, and we will watch the overflow sweep across America. Even as we made our way to the airport we saw this to be true. It seemed that everyone we ran into was impacted by the event. We stayed at a hotel the last night there and even the pizza delivery man got excited when I mentioned that I followed Jesus, because someone at the pizza shop had just given him prophetic word about his shoulder injury. As we left the hotel a group of people we walked by started praying for us to have a safe travel. And for me, it was all just the launching pad into the nations.

Burning in The Desert

My heart soared as our plane touched down in the desert landscape on the outskirts of the city. As I looked around I saw the faces I had prayed for a thousand times. It all felt strangely familiar, like I was landing home after a lifelong vacation.

After a few days of being here, a frustration grew in my heart. There are restrictions here to sharing the gospel. Evangalism is illegal, and not only that, but my meager Arabic is far too little to carry on a spiritual conversation with anyone. The freedom and passion that Azusa unleashed was suddenly boxed in, and my heart burned with passion. We have a song we sing that goes “I feel it in my bones, in my bones. It’s a fire! And I must let it out! I must let it out!” And those lyrics have never rung so true. For all of my life there has been so much opportunity to share the gospel, but little willingness. In a matter of weeks, my willingness has grown, but my opportunity taken away. I hope I never again take for granted the freedom we have in America to share the gospel so openly.

To contrast what I’ve just said, there is a wide open door here in the Middle East, and after getting some time to adjust, I’ve come to see that there are so many opportunities here. So far I’ve been here for 14 days of ministry and already I have pages of testimonies. At a large church area we were allowed to share the gospel, and in the process over 15 young men got saved. At a handicapped ministry we performed a skit and led a worship song. We followed it up with praying for every person there. We saw a ladies back and shoulder healed and her leg grow out. Another lady was filled with the Holy Spirit and started speaking in tongues for the first time. At a church service I was able to share a simple message on love, and follow it up with a time of ministry, where one of us got a word about someone’s left ear. Someone came up who was deaf in their left ear, and after being prayed for, they were healed. Now it started to feel like I was on outreach.

Feeling The Father’s Heart

Her dark eyes looked back at mine as she did her best to explain the reality she believed to be her existence.

The warm sunlight covered the surrounding sidewalk. Nearby cars packed themselves into what few would consider a parking spot. The consistent sound of horns had now grown numb from its monotony. Yellow tan so over saturated the urban landscape that the slightest green caught the eye like a refreshing oasis.

How could I question what she believed to be true for so long? How could I dismiss a belief that she has based her eternal hope upon? How could I introduce an idea that would shake her perception of why she is here?
How could I not?

My throat lurched as I held back heavy tears. What love is this? What love would so easily sacrifice everything one knows for a person unknown? Oh, it’s the love of a father. The love of a man who’s never held his daughter. The love of a heart that has been transplanted into my chest, and would shatter the feeble bars of my rib cage to let her know.

Her words came out. Confident, as if rehearsed a thousand times. Repeated night after night until the questions were sedated. Practiced until it sounded right. But her honesty overcame her ability to convince me that she was okay. It was close. Nearly overlooked. Nearly passed by as another soul managing her way through life without pain or discomfort. But a crack was shown, and I again remember why I came.

I did my best, through the use of wind through vocal chords to show her the beautiful truth I’ve discovered, though I felt that handing her my bleeding heart would speak much clearer.

I would have stood there for a lifetime trying to paint a picture of what could be her reality, but time’s demand pulled us apart. Our goodbye was sincere, but unwanted. What I wouldn’t give to open her eyes? What I wouldn’t do to make her realize who’s arms are open wide for her?

Suddenly dying on a cross seemed like the only natural response for a love like this.