On the floor again

I shared previously how as a young man I had ended up on the floor after being ministered to at a Vineyard conference. That occasion however left me feeling desolate as I ended up crying out "Father, I want to feel your love!" over and over again. Instead of being filled by the Spirit from this experience, I felt nothing but emptiness afterwards.

But shortly after this I had a different "floor time" experience. Back then there was no Vineyard church in our city, so Ingrid and I were attending what we thought at the time was the next best thing: a growing Charismatic church located in the downtown area. It wasn't until long after we had left the church that we learned it had previously belonged to the Shepherding Movement.

During one of the Sunday services, the pastor gave out what he felt was a "word from the Lord" that some of those present had told God they had "drawn lines in the sand" and would "not cross them again." He said however that this was wrong and that those who had drawn such lines should come forward and repent.

Frustrated and discouraged from having tried to engage in various ministry activities only to be criticized and rebuffed by leadership, I felt that the pastor's "word" must apply to me. So I went forward and got down on my knees to repent.

I began to pray, telling God how sorry I was that I had drawn those lines in the sand. Then I felt someone's hand on my back, and as the hand started trembling I began to weep. "I'm sorry, Father," I said, repeating this again and again as my eyes began to fill with tears. Then suddenly the Lord spoke to me:

You've never drawn any lines.

"Whaah" I cried, "whaah, whaaah" as tears rolled down my face. This went on a while and then God spoke to me again:

You've always obeyed me.

"Whaaaah! Whaaaaahhh!" I cried loudly as the hand on my back shook strongly. Then He spoke to me one more time:

You're a man after my own heart.

"WHAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!"

Lying on the floor by this time, I proceeded to sob my heart out, totally oblivious to everything and everyone around me. Then after some time had elapsed and my tears had dried up, I opened my eyes and turned around to find out who had been praying for me.

"What happened, Mitch?" It was my brother-in-law who had laid his hand on me. "Mitch?" he repeated, "What was happening there with you?"

We both stood up. I looked at him and wanted to say, "My name isn't Mitch, it's CHRISTIAN!!" But I just smiled instead and thanked him and said I couldn't share right now, maybe later. Because I didn't want to lose the wonderful feeling I was experiencing at that moment: the feeling of being loved and affirmed by my heavenly Father. The experience was so precious to me that I thought if I should share it I might lose the potency and power of it.

This feeling only lasted several days however and then it dissipated. And by the end of the week I was struggling with insecurity and depression again over not being able to find my place in the church and not being recognized by the leadership for the gifts I felt God had given me. Like my daydream in the house church that I previously used to attend, this new experience of God's love was powerful, but once again it didn't last.

Why not? Probably for several reasons which at the time I just couldn't fathom. But the question always remained: How could I cement in my heart the fact that my Father really loves me? Was there something I needed to do? Or was I doomed to endure a series of spiritual highs followed by desolate lows?

More to come soon.

--Mitch