The Miracle of Salvation

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You know how God can take an image and download an entire message into your spirit in a matter of seconds? You ever notice how infrequently He gives you the vocabulary to express that message adequately? (Or maybe I’m the only one to suffer from this insufficiency.) Well, today’s post has little to do with an update about the work we’re doing in South Africa. If I’m to be honest, it’s a futile attempt to redeem myself for a botched job I did on delivering a word I was given last week. Now that I’ve had a chance to gather my thoughts, it may sound “deep” to the reader, but trust me, it was anything but on the Sunday I stood before the saints speaking it.

We have been visiting Johannesburg, and were invited to fellowship at My Father’s House where Robert Kelly (not to be confused with a certain sex cult leading R&B singer) is bishop. We were led in worship by a small, but dynamic team and were exhorted to personalize our worship by one of the team leaders. It was in that moment that I had a vision of salvation that I was itching to share with the saints. I doubted that I would have the opportunity, so I stored the information and swallowed my words. But God, right?

As I have come to expect, Marshall was invited to give a short message to the congregation. What I didn’t anticipate was Marshall tapping me on the shoulder and asking him to join him at the front, which I did dutifully. I was so moved by the interpretation of the image about the cross and personal worship I’d received that I didn’t have the capacity find the language to communicate what I truly wanted to impart. So I said:

“You know, like the sister said, worship is personal. It’s bloody. Jesus bled for us…each of us was born of a woman, and you can’t be born into a family without blooooodddd…!!!

The congregation stared at me blankly and Bishop Kelly grabbed back the microphone; and with good reason. Here was this stranger taking up the introduction time talking about childbirth!

But if I had the opportunity for a do-over (and as I said before, that’s essentially what this is), I might have said this:

“The mechanics behind conception and birth – in the natural – are nothing short of a miracle. Before a human being is formed in the womb, there are many obstacles that the seed of a man have to overcome before it can fertilize an egg. The birth canal is a treacherous place, as it sees seed as an invasive force/element. There are false corners and caverns to confuse the seed where they eventually get trapped and die. Out of the millions of sperm released, only ONE will successfully fertilize an egg. That doesn’t mean new life in the womb is guaranteed. But if a new life IS formed and nurtured in the womb, it will only be brought into this world with blood. There is no getting around that. Whether through a C-section or a vaginal birth, there will be the shedding of blood.

If the conception and gestation of our physical bodies is such a miracle, then how much more in the natural? There are so many obstacles, dark alleys and false/dead ends trying to impede our salvation. We are influenced by many voices and doctrines in this world, we’re tempted by all kinds of inducements…even our own minds try to convince us that the Cross cannot possibly hold all the power the word says it does. But if we press through all that muck and darkness and are able to reach the Cross, the Son and all the power therein, then we too become re-born in the spirit. We experience the miracle of new life. The body of (and blood shed by) a woman is our avenue into this physical world, just as Christ and his blood are the vessels into the adoption – or translation – into the family of God.”

 

We (and I’m really speaking to myself) need to prove ourselves worthy of this miracle – both miracles, really – every day. It’s a struggle, but it’s also an honor.

Have you ever received a vision from God that seemed unconventional on the outset? We’d be honored if you’d share! It wouldn’t be the first time He’s spoken to someone in an atypical way. Just ask Saul’s donkey.

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