Sunday, April 27, 2008

The "Miktams" of God

By David Hobbs

“Miktam” is a Hebrew word in the Psalms used to describe a special kind of psalm. Used only 6 times, it introduces psalms that recount David’s most harrowing experiences as a God-follower, where his life was in immediate peril and where only a miraculous intervention by God could save him. These were experiences like the one described by Paul in 2 Cor. 1:8 where he talks about “the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.”
One of the places David uses this term is Psalm 56 where he recounts the time he fled to Gath out of fear of King Saul only to be captured by Philistine soldiers who recognized him as the slayer of Goliath, their hometown hero. They brought him to the king of Gath who could have ordered his immediate execution. David was so terrified by his imminent peril that the Bible says he feigned insanity, drooled into his beard, and “scrabbled on the doors of the gate” (1 Sam. 21:13 KJV). This is the context in which he wrote Psalm 56.
But the whole meaning of the word “Miktam” is not just a scary remembrance. It literally means “engraving” and spiritually it refers to a time when the dark setting of the dangerous experience serves only to highlight the bright jewel of the love of God manifested in the miraculous deliverance. Therefore, the whole episode is remembered not as a traumatic event, but as a golden demonstration of the faithfulness, love, and power of God in the wondrous escape. As such, it becomes one of our most precious “memories of grace,” forever engraved on our heart; from which we can draw comfort and solace again and again as new challenges arise.
One of my most precious Miktams occurred in April of 2006. Some of us from our church were in L.A. to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Azusa St. revival. I wasn’t planning to go because I was in the throes of getting my book Out of the Fire ready for publication. Since I was self-publishing there were lots of details of design and formatting that normally the publisher would handle, the final editing on the content that normally an editor would handle, copyright procedures, permissions to secure--the list seemed to go on and on. The whole process kept taking longer than expected and I had to keep moving the publication date up, a month at a time.
Therefore, as tempted as I was by the prospect of spending a week seeking the presence of God and learning about one of the great revivals of all time, I really didn’t want to lose focus on what I was doing. But then I was told that someone had paid for Marcine and my way, and it didn’t seem right to refuse (good thing, because it later turned out to be our pastor and his wife who were our benefactors). So there we were at the L. A. Convention Center with thousands of others, spending time worshipping and getting inspired about the moving of the Spirit of God.
I have discovered a pattern at such getaway events. I always expect a time of great blessing and experience of God’s presence, but the actual pattern is an initial blessing, then a time of intense dealing in my life by the Spirit of God, a breakthrough, and then more blessing. So after a day or two of good meetings and spiritual experiences, I began to “go through it” over my book. One of the classes I was taking in the morning session was on writing and publishing for God. The classes were good, but they began to dredge up the same old demons I had fought so long in the writing of the book, and even back to the writing of my first book, Waiting for the Dawn, where they almost destroyed me. They involved motive—why was I writing? It was a catch 22 situation. The accusation was that I wanted to write for me, to be famous, to be honored, to be somebody, to exalt self. The only way I could prove that this wasn’t so was to not write, to lay it all down. “See, I don’t need this.” But after awhile I would feel that old unction again. And when I prayed about what God wanted me to do and how I could enter fully into His calling for my life I would sense the Holy Spirit ask, “Whatever happened to that book you were writing for Me?”
But there didn’t seem to be any way I could purify my motives. When I started to work on it again, the secret pride would come back, the dreams of grandeur. I disowned them, rebuked them, rejected them, but couldn’t get rid of them. I couldn’t still the accusing voices because my sense of honesty to an extent compelled me to agree with them.
Now these classes were bringing all these issues to the surface again and I was miserable. The third morning I stayed in the main auditorium instead of going to a class. They were holding a workshop on worship and I thought maybe in the presence of God in worship I could find some answers. But the weight got heavier and heavier. I moved over to a section of seats where I could be alone. I knelt at a seat while the music was playing and it was as if all these voices rose up to surround and mock me—all my inadequacies, inabilities, failings as a writer and as a person, my barrenness as a Christian, the hopelessness of my life--the whole kit and caboodle was slowly spinning around me, mocking and accusing me. It was as if I was in the middle of a whirlpool, a vortex, surrounded by the voices of my failures. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “this is the kind of stuff that drives men to insanity and suicide.” I found Marcine, who was not far away. “I’m in a vortex,” I said, “surrounded by accusing voices; pray for me.”
In a daze, I got up and wandered closer to the front of the auditorium, where the music was coming from. I tried to get as close as possible to the music. People had seats staked out in the front but I found the nearest unclaimed seat and stood there to worship. I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t sing or even speak. I just stood there with my arms outstretched to God and tears running down my face.
Finally the song was over, we all sat down and the musician started to teach on worship. Almost as soon as I sat down I fell asleep from exhaustion. I awoke just as his teaching was ending, having missed the entire lesson, but feeling better.
On the trip home the subject of the book just seemed to come up, and I was able to talk freely about what I was usually too embarrassed to discuss. The experience proved to a turning point in the battle with my demons that finally enabled the book to come forth.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

The Soul Vs. the Spirit

By David Hobbs

Heb. 4:12--For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit . . .

One thing my recent gospel trip to India made plain is the necessity of discerning between ministering in the soulish realm and the spirit realm. I find there are many misconceptions about the two. Most ministers assume they are ministering in the spirit realm but most ministry is really done in the soulish realm. A charismatic misconception is that whatever is energetic and loud must be spirit realm. The high church misconception on the other hand, is that the spirit realm must be quiet and reverent—anything loud and exuberant must be soulish (hence “out of the spirit”).
My purpose here is not to clear up all the misconceptions and provide the definitive answer to this question—discerning between the soul and the spirit is exceedingly difficult at times, something only the Spirit of God and the Word of God (see above Scripture) can do. But we need to at least recognize the problem and try to discern in our own lives between the two.
The ideal is for all ministry—all worship, praise, preaching, testifying, singing, etc. to be done in the spirit. After all, the Father seeks those who will worship Him in spirit and in truth (John 4:23). So how do we know when we’re doing that? When we’re singing really loudly? When our flesh breaks out in goose bumps?
Here’s a common scenario repeated in charismatic churches across Christendom every Sunday. The minister comes out to stir up the crowd: “Who do you love tonight?”
“Jesus.”
“Who?”
“Jesus.”
“Who?”
“Jesus!”
“Then let’s give a big hand to Jesus!” (Everyone claps).
I’m not saying this is necessarily wrong. I’m just asking if it’s soulish or spirit? Most people would answer that it’s spirit because it’s concerning Jesus and it's done in a church. But how is it different from the following?
The world knows how to stir up a crowd (remember that the realm of the soul is the mind, the will, and the emotions). Every good band has a warm-up band preceding it; every TV game show with live audience has its warm-up announcer who comes out 10 minutes before show time to prep the audience; every sports team has its cheerleaders to whip up the crowd’s enthusiasm. Therefore since the Holy Spirit is not given to the world but only to the church, how can this be the realm of the spirit? It’s not. It’s the realm of the soul. It’s necessary to awaken emotions, to focus attention, to get people “in the mood” for the upcoming event, but it’s not at all ministering in the spirit, even when done in the church using the name of Jesus! Many churches rarely get beyond this soulish realm in their song services or preaching—it’s all done with human emotion and soul-stirring techniques.
The Bible has a lot to say about the soulish realm. David often had to command his soul to awake, or worship God, get out of the dumps, etc., so dealing in the soulish realm is often necessary. But the soulish realm is basically man-focused and it runs on human soul power. While we are told to love God with all our “soul,” we’re also told to worship God in “spirit.” The spirit realm is God-focused and Holy Spirit empowered. It’s the Holy Spirit moving through us to send worship up to God. Then how do we get beyond the soulish, human realm to that of the spirit?
The Holy Spirit is pictured in Scripture as a dove, while the soul of man is like a bulldozer. Head to head the bulldozer predominates every time while the Holy Spirit flies away. So we must learn to be very sensitive to the person of the Holy Spirit. We achieve that from studying the Word and by spending time in His presence, learning His personality and His ways.
I’ve seen preachers spend congregational worship time in talking with ushers and elders, carrying on church business, etc. but not in touch at all with what was happening in the spirit in worship, and then when suddenly thrust in front of the crowd say automatically,

“Who do you love tonight?”
“Jesus.”
“Who?” (see above) . . .

when the people, under the power of the Holy Spirit had already moved well beyond that point into the spirit realm of love and sweet devotion. Now they were being called back into “pep rally” mode by a minister who was moving by rote with no idea of where the spirit was in his church.

Here’s an idea: where there’s sweat involved, it’s soul. We see a picture of that in Ezekiel 44:17-18. When the priests entered the inner court of the temple (where they ministered exclusively to God) they were to wear no woolen garments or anything that would make them sweat. Because soul realm ministry has a basis in human activity; it requires effort, it produces sweat, fatigue and even burn-out, and is inherently not pleasing to God because of its tainted human origin: man in the flesh cannot please God [Rom. 8:7-8].
Ministry in the spirit doesn’t produce any sweat because in a sense it doesn’t require any effort. It requires opening up and yielding to the Holy Spirit and letting Him flow through (it can be just as loud and exuberant, or even more so, but the source of the power is not man but God).
I tell people that the more in the spirit I get when I worship, the more relaxed I become. When I begin and I’m trying to “prime the pump,” I’m somewhat tense, forcing myself to concentrate, sing loudly, and get my whole body involved (this is the “sacrifice” realm where the Bible talks about “sacrific[ing] thank offerings” [Paslm 50:23] and “the sacrifice of praise--the fruit of lips that confess his name.”[Heb. 13:15]. A sacrifice requires an act of the will—so it’s still the soulish realm). But when the Holy Spirit responds and begins to overtake me, I relax completely and let Him surge through me full strength. Now “it’s no longer I that liveth, but Christ that liveth in me.” [old song lyrics taken from Gal. 2:20]. Those are the deeply satisfying times in worship, where it’s all Him and no me. Then I can truly soar on the heights; then I’ve reached my highest calling in God!
Soulish praying in a corporate setting goes on and on. It’s loud, monopolizing, and it’s usually alone; nobody else listening joins in. But prayer in the spirit draws prayer out of those listening as the anointing of the Holy Spirit in the pray-er touches and quickens the Holy Spirit in them. You can tell when the pray-er hits something close to the heart of God because responses rise spontaneously from the others and rise as a corporate ball of prayer to God.
Likewise in free-singing corporate worship. The soul worshipper wants to be louder than the others and call attention to him/her self. The spirit worshipper listens to everybody else in the room and lets the Holy Spirit flowing from them touch things in his/her own spirit and bring them out in his worship. The worship is organic with no person singled out, but each person briefly rising above the rest and then drawing responses from Holy Spirit in others who then rise above the others, creating a beautiful fabric of worship with each contributing and none predominating. The whole focus is on Jesus anyway.