“A revival may be expected when Christians have a spirit of prayer for a revival.
That is, when they pray as if their hearts were set upon it.
When Christians have the spirit of prayer for a revival.
When they go about groaning out their hearts desire.
When they have real travail of soul.”
It was getting late as we sat listlessly watching the news.
On and on went the images, the videos, and reports.
Fires, mobs, windows being smashed, fists lifted in the air, chanting, profanity, standoffs
between rioters and heavily armed police, people running down the streets
carrying off the spoils of their war.
On and on it went.
Nearly 10 days now.
Stories of violence, stories of neverending anger, and seething hate.
“Kneel down and state your offense” he demanded of the young woman on the sidewalk.
She was young, thin, and blonde wearing a blue medical mask.
The camera shows the girl getting down on her knees, kneeling as instructed.
The man holding the phone then tells her to apologize.
Her offense you ask?
She was white.
To apologize to all people of color for her whiteness, her presumed privilege…all
of which she does—an act of contrition to a demanding monster.
Bow down and make known your wrong.
The wrong being that of a wrongly perceived color.
My husband snapped off the television telling me that he couldn’t stand watching
this madness any longer, he was going to bed…it was simply all too depressing.
Nearly 10 days of the same agony of civilization’s demise.
And I agreed.
Heavy-hearted, I got up to ready for bed.
When I went to put my phone on charge for the night,
I noticed that my cousin had sent me an email.
It was a single video clip.
I clicked on it, watching and listening.
The video, albeit all under 5 minutes, wove marvelous a tale.
At first, it was a familiar tale.
It was the story of a revival that transpired in the Scottish Hebrides, on the Isle of Lewis,
between the years 1949 and 1952.
I was familiar with this tale as I’ve written about it before here for you.
It is a true story.
An amazing story.
And a story that has actually pulled at me most recently—only a couple of weeks back.
Prompting me to find and retrieve the thin small book I had bought several years back
regarding the story.
As the video went on, it wove in a new aspect, or twist to the story,
one that I had not yet heard before.
A most amazing sort of coincidence.
By the end of the clip, I was so deeply moved.
Not so much about the purported coincidence the speaker was sharing,
but rather by the speaker’s ending of the tale and of his most sincere and earnest cry to God.
a plea to God…
a plea that I too am making… “God wilt thou revive us again?”
Suddenly, in what had been just moments before, a tremendous weight of heaviness
and despair was blessedly transformed into one of hope.
It was the reassurance that no, God had not abandoned us.
He had not cut us adrift.
In turn, I felt the need to forward the clip to a few close friends,
one of whom who had first introduced me to the tale of the Revival
on the Isle of Lewis.
I knew I needed to do a little research into this clip—was the woven piece to the
original story correct?
Fact-checking is what they call it.
The following day, my friend’s response was along the lines of what I had expected.
The woven tale was false…but yet the original front end story remained correct and
Whereas the Revival was factual, the tie into a person of today was not necessarily so.
But it matters not to me that the end pieces of this puzzle do not necessarily fit…
What matters is that God has reminded me that He has not abandoned us.
Before seeing the clip, I was crestfallen and I felt so utterly alone watching the madness
now ransacking my country— yet following the clip,
I have felt a renewed sense of hope.
In such that if we pray for a revival—fervently, earnestly, and diligently,
God will indeed hear us.
A remnant remains Lord—hear our prayers.