Encountering the Mysterious

By David Hobbs

It was a Sat. afternoon in Sept. of 2006 and I was having my first book signing at our local Christian Bookstore for my just-published book, Out of the Fire. All my friends from church came out and bought copies, which meant I sold more than I’ve ever sold since in a signing.

Half way through the event a woman came up to my table. I think she said her name was Chris or Christine, but like everything else about her, there is some question about that now. I took her to be around 40 years old but I couldn’t begin to describe her. No mental picture comes to mind. She was a white woman, that’s all I know for sure.

She said she worked for the Marysville Fire Dept. across the river--in the office, not as a fire fighter. She told me that God had her there in part to help the fire fighters with their marriages and relationships. We talked about the high percentage of fire fighters’ marriages that end in divorce, and some of the reasons behind it.

The more we talked, the deeper into spiritual things we got, and the more fascinated I became. She said she knew about divorce firsthand. She and her former husband had married as Christians, but he fell away and put her through all kinds of hell. Still she didn’t feel released by the Lord to divorce him, but rather to wage war against the devil for his soul, even as the attacks of the enemy through him grew stronger.

But there came a day when, as he was about to strike her, she looked into his eyes and suddenly heard the Holy Spirit speak out of her: “Charles, I have given you ample opportunity to repent, but you have refused. This is your final call. Fall on your knees before me now and cry out for forgiveness. You will not have another chance.” The words were calm and measured, but every hair on her body stood up, and Charles’ red, angry face turned ashen. He froze in place, unable to speak. Finally tears began streaming down his face and he choked out, “I can’t! I can’t!”

They got divorced soon after that, and Charles’ life went rapidly downhill from there until his death not long after. (Sorry I can’t remember those details.)

I was still reeling from that story when she started telling me about her son. He was a special gift from God, though I no longer recall the circumstances of his birth. But I do remember this: when he was about 18 months old and barely able to talk, one day she noticed he was looking at her in a strange way. “What is it, son?” She asked.
“There it is Mommy,” he said, pointing at her. He was talking clear and plain like he’d been doing it all his life.
“There what is?”
“That look you had on your face.”
“Look? Well .…What ….”
“That’s the same look you had when I pointed you out to Jesus in heaven and asked if I could have you as my mommy.”

She was really blowing my mind now! I didn’t even know what that doctrine was called, but I was sure we didn’t believe in it. But she wasn’t trying to convince me of doctrine. She was just telling me what had happened with her son.

We talked about other things that I no longer recall. After she left, all I could think about was her and what she had said. “The ladies in our church need to hear her speak,” I thought. She had spoken so calmly yet with simple, profound conviction. I wanted to speak with her again: write her stories down; make sure I had heard them right; see what else she had to say.

On Monday I went over to the Marysville Fire Dept. No one there had heard of her. They didn’t have any employees that came close to matching her description. I thought maybe I had heard the name of the department wrong. I went to the Yuba City Fire Dept. and others in the area, all with the same results.

Every book I sold had gone through me. The people had given me money, and I had written their names down and given them a book. But she was not on my list. Then I remembered: she wanted to buy the book with a credit card, and had to do so at the counter, since I didn’t have a credit card machine. Hers was the only book I had no record of. I never saw her again, nor was I able to get any information on her, even to confirm her name.

Many of you might dismiss this story out-of-hand, which we tend to do with anything we don’t understand. That’s your prerogative; but then it’s not your story. But what was its effect of me, the recipient?

I felt it was a supernatural visitation of some kind that was meant to encourage and inspire me.

After all, it had taken 16½ years to write my book. It had been a long, difficult road, but also a maturing process. As I worked on the book, the Holy Spirit worked on me. Now, after all that struggle, setbacks and travail, the book was finally seeing the light of day in its first public unveiling. I think God sent someone as His representative to the event. After all, the book was dedicated to Him: it was the story of all He took me through to show me He was real, and that he loved me. And my desire was that it would steer many others His way. I had finished it at His direction, and published it according to His command. Why wouldn’t He send a representative to acknowledge the event and show His pleasure?

But then who was she, this representative of God? My guess is: an angel. The Bible talks a lot about that. But how about her story of working for the fire dept.? She said God had her working there and I believe that was true. But as an angel she works for Him and not for them and is usually invisible (so she wouldn’t exactly be on the payroll). But how about her husband and child? Do angels marry? Don’t try to form doctrine based on this story! That’s the flaw of the western, rational mind. She might have been the guardian angel for the woman in the encounter she was telling me about. There is no way of knowing, which means that’s not the point of the story. The Holy Spirit's purpose is not to stir up idle and unprovable speculation.

To me it is a treasured experience, just as the Bible says that Mary treasured up experiences in her heart, most of which she didn’t understand.

The Bible says that “deep calls unto deep,” and when I have experiences like that, they call up deep things in my spirit. They stir a hunger deep inside me, a yearning for that realm, the realm of the eternal, the supernatural--the realm of the habitation of God.

Old Folk's Church

By David Hobbs

The question I pose to you today is: Are you attending an “Old Folk’s Church”?

HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
40 years ago, our community, like others, had many small, outwardly vibrant churches. But they weren’t reproducing. Then God moved sovereignly through the Jesus’ Movement which swept many new converts (including me) into the Kingdom and toward the churches. But many churches refused to accept what God was doing in their day and wouldn’t let the new believers in unless they cleaned up their acts and became like the established church members first. The trouble was, the church members, though well-appointed in this life with clothes, cars, casas and careers, were far behind the new converts in passion and commitment. So the hippie converts started their own churches (which have prospered), leaving the older people’s churches (where their spiritual life and energy was so badly needed) high and dry. They didn’t stop having church, but they kept aging until now there are many small churches where the average believer is 70 years old or more. The ones left love the Lord and are sweet people, but their future is dim because there’s no one coming behind to take their places; when enough die off their churches face closure and extinction.

But the question remains, how can you tell if you are in an Old Folk’s church or not? I attend two churches, one is “Old Folks,” the other not. They both have some older people and some younger people, so to the untrained layman the answer might not be readily apparent. But is there a quick way to tell, rather than spending years at some far-off seminary?
Yes there is, and the answer came to me suddenly in revelatory form last week: My Old Folk’s church is always hot—you never want to wear a sweater, suit jacket, or even long sleeve shirt unless it’s the thinnest material. At my other church you can wear all of the above, but ix-nay on the short-sleeve shirt in the winter.
So it was obviously the temperature that was the indicator, but what exactly was the cutoff point, after which you morphed from one church to another? After diligent research and extensive analysis I can now positively affirm that the cutoff point is 70°. If the sanctuary is kept below 70°, you are in a regular church. But if the temperature is 70° or above (usually the 72°-74° range), you are in an Old Folk’s church.
Happily, the Lord attends both!