The Light Went Dark and the Salt Went Flat

By David Hobbs

[This was published as the Appeal Democrat's "Message of the Week" on its religion page on 5/22/15]

In the last 53 years, America has seen perhaps the greatest moral free-fall of any culture in history. From the removal of God from the public schools in the 1960s, the legalization of abortion in the 70s, the advent of the destructive drug culture, no-fault divorce and family breakdown, pornography epidemic … the cultural carnage goes on and on and shows no sign of abating. In my town of Olivehurst, the churches that were once full and prospering are barely surviving with a few older people in a community devastated by drugs. 

Where were the churches while all this was going on? Attending meetings, singing songs, listening to sermons, and fellowshipping. Instead of being the salt and light prescribed by Jesus, we have been neither. Since all this happened on our watch, we must give an account of ourselves to God. If there ever was a time we needed to heed the words of 2 Chron. 7:14 it is now: humble ourselves, pray, seek God’s face, and turn from our wicked ways. 

 I heard a local pastor tell his congregation a few years ago, “Your hope is in the rapture.” I guess what he meant was that the church had become so weak and ineffective that it was unfixable and the best we could hope for was to get raptured out and let someone else deal with the mess we left behind. 

God doesn’t take the failure of His people lightly. Israel had to wander in the wilderness until the whole generation died off because they refused to believe God to take them into the Promised Land. In Jeremiah’s day, Jerusalem was destroyed and the nation exiled for 70 years to Babylon because they had a societal meltdown much like ours today. In Jesus’ time, Jerusalem and the temple were destroyed in a terrible blood bath and the nation scattered for 2000 years because God’s people didn’t recognize the day of their visitation and accept their Messiah. 

 Yet we think God is going to shrug off 55 million aborted babies and the unbelievable human carnage from the evils we have allowed to flourish in our day? And then rapture us to heaven! Such thinking must have the angels shaking their heads in utter disbelief. 

God does have the answer but only for those who are willing to repent and accept accountability before Him.

Choose Life ... or Death

By David Hobbs

I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both you and your descendants may live (Deut. 30:19). 

I have always thought of that scripture as being either a matter of eternal destiny—choose Jesus and live forever in heaven or reject Him and die eternally in hell—or about earthly blessing or cursing—choose obedience and live an overcoming, blessed life, or go your own way and … well “the way of transgressors is hard” (Prov. 13:15). But just last week something happened that cast a new, startling light on that familiar scripture.

 It was at the National Day of Prayer public gathering, where all the Christians come together in a city park and pray for the needs of our community. It came at the end of two of the worst weeks of my life in a long time, mostly centered around huge problems in my painting business with a bunch of other stuff thrown in for good measure, as Satan loves to do. I think he invented the concept of “piling on,” which he works masterfully.

It was Friday afternoon and the week was finally over, though the prayer meeting started soon. I was home, lying in bed, trying to take a little nap, kind of hoping I would fall into a deep sleep and not wake up until the prayer meeting was over (and even better not wake up at all!). But I only dozed briefly, and there seemed no good reason not to go. But would I be missed if I stayed home? We had just had our National Day of Prayer breakfast with over 300 people showing up for that. Surely there would be a good carry over. But still I went out of duty. Prayer was my thing, after all.

There are almost 100,000 people in our metropolitan area. George Barna says that 70% of Americans still identify as Christians, so that would be 70,000. But regular church attenders? My guess is more like 20,000. But if half those showed up there would be 10,000 praying people! Still, I wasn’t too surprised that 30-40 turned out.

Something in the songs of worship stirred my soul and got me out of my funk. The angels were there, I could sense them! All of heaven was there in fact. This was a big deal to them. Here we were making a public witness of Christ, something rarely done by the church. We were out from behind the church walls proclaiming Christ and His Kingdom. I felt the touch of the anointing. I knew I had to get up there first and pray to set the stage, to boldly proclaim Christ: His power, His authority and His victory. It didn’t matter that there were no unbelievers within the sound of our voices. All of heaven was there; and the principalities and powers were there. This was a confrontation between light and darkness, the wicked world that had been for so long and the new world that was coming in to replace it.

After the leader prayed an opening prayer I went to the microphone and proclaimed Christ as boldly as I could muster (what a privilege we have to do this! Proclaim Christ and the power of His blood before every demon of hell!). Though it was not as ringing and powerful as I hoped, it was enough to intensify the anointing and draw the angels closer. And it did set the stage for those who followed. Afterwards, I still felt the power of God’s anointing coursing through my being so I loudly “amened” and agreed to everyone else’s prayers.

I began to get self-conscious and felt I was standing out too much. Others were mostly silent, just listening. If the praying person touched a particular hot-button topic, there would be a swell from the crowd, but most of the time I was the only one actively agreeing to the requests (there were also a few Hispanic ladies who actively engaged, bless their hearts).

But that’s when the revelation happened. As I wondered if I should pull back and be silent like the rest, a choice appeared before me. With every prayer I could choose to push myself out there and make verbal, enthusiastic agreement, or I could choose to listen in silence like the others. But I saw that every time I chose to launch out in verbal agreement, it brought life to my spirit. I could feel the life quickening me. And I also saw that choosing passivity like the others would be choosing the opposite, choosing death.

Now here’s where most of you will rise up and rebuke me, “How can you say that being silent while others are praying is choosing death!?" Death is the absence of life, just as darkness is the absence of light. Passivity is the slow road to death, as death is the ultimate passivity! When one speaks actively, even forcefully, it breaks off bondages and sets the spirit free; while refusing to respond—passivity—allows the soul to be bound until it is unable to speak out, unable to make public witness—intimidated into silence!

I don’t know how many of you I can convince of the truth of this, but I clearly saw it. Some things can’t be explained until they’re experienced—chocolate ice cream and sex come immediately to mind. I saw it and decided I couldn’t afford to be silent. I needed life too badly to pass on this opportunity to get it.

 The happy side effect of this was my oppression of the past 2 weeks melted away and I woke Sat. morning back to normal and have been ever since. Choose life!

Shut in with the Devil

BY David Hobbs

[[Note: Many of these blog posts are stories of supernatural experiences I have had with the Lord through prayer. In the interest of fairness and complete disclosure, this kind of experience is also possible, and happened to me this week. We don't throw the baby out with the bath water, but it is a warning that we have to tread cautiously in the unseen realm. There is no one who cannot and will not be deceived at some point by our enemy.]

This happened last Saturday when I went to where we usually do our "donut ministry."  It’s a church’s fellowship hall in a separate building across the street from the church. There were no donuts today, as Randy had been too busy to get them, but I wanted to go out  anyway and spend a couple of hours in prayer for the town and its lost, and also for my message on Sunday the week following when I was scheduled to preach. I felt like the Lord had already given me a word about a week before, but so much had happened since then that I was wondering if I was supposed to preach on something else.

            I went in and made a pot of coffee in case some of the homeless wandered in looking for donuts and prayer, or in case my pastor showed up as he often did.

            When I started to pray, I felt a sense of evil in the room. I didn’t attack it, but rather kept on praising the Lord and singing until it faded away. At least I didn’t sense it any more, though there hadn’t been a clear feeling of breakthrough either.

            I walked around the room and prayed. Not long into my prayer my mind jumped to my message. This is common when I’m preparing to preach. When it does, on the one hand I feel it’s a distraction because it takes my focus off the Lord and away from the Spirit and into the mind. On the other hand, what better time to receive a download from the Lord than in such a time of prayer? So I let my thoughts go in that direction.

            I sat down and began to take stock. I had been coming to my little church for 4 years now, since working on the first edition of Walking in the Spirit. While I was living out the experiences chronicled in that book, I felt that God was letting me experience the Promised Land: being in His wonderful presence and what it would be like to live a life always close to Him. On more than one occasion while lost in His love I had said to him, “Lord I am not content to be here with you experiencing your love all by myself. I must go back and bring others to this place of intimacy with you.” And I felt like He had sent me back, like the 12 spies sent to scout out the Promised Land in the Book of Numbers.

            But after being in this “Old People’s Church” for 4 years, and preaching once or twice a month for most of that time and giving it my best shot, I couldn’t point to one person I had influenced to seek a deeper walk with the Lord. They just didn’t get it; they seemed impervious to anything that would require a change in their lives. They were as tone deaf as any of Jesus’ disciples.

            Because of this, I felt a growing sense of frustration, though I loved them, and a feeling that I had failed in my mission. With this came another thought: that it was time to move on—find another crowd of people who would listen and hear, who would respond, who would seek what I had found for themselves. Wasn’t that what Jesus did? He didn’t hang around preaching to the same crowd of people. He was always leaving them behind, saying, “I must go and preach in other villages as well, for that is why I came.” Shouldn’t that be my response?

            A plan began to form in my mind: I would start off my message by explaining what I felt my call was: a scout to tell others about the Promised Land and lead others there so we all could enjoy the glorious presence of Jesus together. It was like what Peter said on the Mt. of Transfiguration when he experienced the glory. “Lord let us build three tabernacles... (so they would never have to leave).” And yet nobody believes they can experience it themselves in the here and now, even when someone comes back and tells them about it.

            So I thought I would tell them all this and then give them one more opportunity. I’d make an altar call and ask who was interested in going to the Promised Land while still in this life--who was interested in the presence of Jesus and experiencing the powers of the age to come spoken of in Hebrews? And then when no one responded to my alar call I would close my Bible, step down from the pulpit and say, “Well that’s it. I’m leaving to find some folks who do want that because that’s why God has sent me back.”

            When that thought hit me I was stunned at the boldness of it. “Wow! Could I really do that?” Maybe that would finally shake them up, shake them out of their apathy. It certainly would cause a stir.

            [In all this time no one had come through the door to break my reverie, which surprised me. Once I thought I heard someone outside and expected to see the door open at any minute, but it didn’t and the sound went away.]

            The more I thought about it the more I liked the idea. It would be a bombshell all right if I was bold enough to do it. Maybe it would be just what was needed.

            My two hours were up and I turned everything off and headed for the exit. As I was going out something occurred to me. My key had let me in through the door but hadn’t unlocked it. As long as it was shut, it was still locked on the outside. “No wonder no one came in.”

            When I went to my old church that night I began to feel uneasy about my message. The pastor was preaching on pride and hubris. I remembered Moses when he got so upset at the children of Israel and their constant gripes and demands. God had told him to speak to the rock to provide water for them to drink instead of striking it with his rod as he had before. But he got so angry at the people (and he was the “meekest man on the earth”) that he said something like, “Must I bring water from this rock for you rebels?” And struck the rock twice with his staff. The water had come out, but that little fit of rage and disobedience cost Moses the Promised Land for himself. I felt in the same spirit as Moses, “You rebels, when will you ever listen to what I’m trying to tell you about intimacy with Jesus!? WHACK!

            That was Sat. night. Sunday morning at my little church my pastor said, “Where were you yesterday? I came by and your car was out front but the door was locked and nobody answered my knock.” I told him about not realizing the door was still locked. I hadn’t heard his knock. By this time I was feeling real queasy about my new “message.”

Sunday night we had an out-of-town speaker who really fired the crowd up. He said it was time for the church to quit kowtowing to the devil and start resisting him boldly with the Word of God. The people responded enthusiastically. “He found the right message to fire the people up,” I thought. “That shows it can be done.”

Pastor came up to me again yesterday at our Thursday night service all excited. “God spoke to us at Tuesday afternoon prayer meeting”

            “Wonderful. What did He say?”

            “He said he was real pleased with the church. We’ve done just what He’s wanted us to do. But now He is calling us out into the community to take the gospel directly to the people and not wait for them to come to the church. He said He’s opened up all the doors, now we must go through them.” He was real excited and I could tell he was a man walking in vision.

            Huh! You don’t say. And there was nothing about “failing to listen to My faithful scout Hobbs?” No mention of “entering the Promised Land that lies before you on the other side of the mountain?” No rebuke for being “slow of heart to listen and understand?”

              How embarrassing! It had become clear I had missed the Lord by a mile. The only way it could have been worse is if I had gotten up and delivered my “message!” I obviously wasn’t listening to the Holy Spirit in my two hours of shut-in “prayer time.” That means it had to have been the devil working on me and feeding me thoughts instead. I was the one oblivious, oblivious to who was speaking to me and whom I was agreeing with!

            That’s why everything we get in the supernatural realm must be tested and confirmed.  That’s why Paul called for every matter to be confirmed by two or three witnesses. Now I can look back and see how the whole thing was set up by the devil. From the sense of evil that faded but was never broken or replaced by the Holy Spirit, to the 2 hours of uninterrupted time spent playing on my frustrations. And I fell into his trap. But God was faithful to show me the truth before I ran with it. How embarrassing!