Catching the Fire of Revival – Part III

Today is the second day that I have been praying for a revival to break out in Canada. Far-fetched, you think? It’s not as unrealistic of a prayer as you realize.

In 1904, a revival took place in Wales. A man named Evan Roberts had prayed for ten years that the people of Wales would come to know Jesus, and even when years went by and there were no results, he kept praying for his country, because why not?

When the revival broke out, it was characterized by prayer, praise, joy and victory, as the people of Wales re-discovered the Holy Spirit. In six months 100,000 people came to Jesus. Yes, I did say 100,000, not 100, or 1000, but ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND people of Wales came to know Jesus as their savior and dedicated their lives to living for His Kingdom.

Evan Roberts, just a man who prayed for his country.

At any point Evan Roberts could have deemed his prayers useless or bent to the lie that his country was not going to turn from their beliefs and come home to their Father. But every day, he prayed, no matter how he felt. And 100,000 people was the prize for not giving up.

When I learn about things like this, my immediate thought is, I want that for Canada! But then I think about it more and I say to myself, “Well, Canada is a lot bigger than Wales. And with all the different cultures, there are so many language barriers. And these days our government doesn’t care a whole lot about God. Our situation is much different, it’s unlikely that a revival would happen here.”

Wrong. All wrong. Actually, this is EXACTLY where a revival should happen.

If you have read any of my past Catching the Fire of Revival posts, you already know that a revival doesn’t take place on “green grass” or in an area that already has it all together. A revival needs something to revive. A revival occurs so that the dead grass comes back to life. When the people in the grittiest battles finally decide to lay down their weapons and surrender. A revival comes when things are not all good.

All over this country I have heard of churches closing down, denominations dying out, schools that once thrived in sharing the love of Jesus becoming a place where the name of Jesus is only used as a cuss word, and Christians everywhere battling depression, disunity, and destroyed relationships in their own homes and families. But this is not God’s plan for this country. It is never God’s wish that His people live under a cloud, depressed and quiet. My prayer is that this revival happens first with the Christians laying down their battle uniforms and no longer picking sides, and coming together as one congregation under God’s leading, and getting on their knees in a quiet place instead of raising their voices in public. I don’t believe that a revival happens where there isn’t first surrender, and confession. As a result of personal cleansing, love pours out from all the people involved, spilling out into their atmosphere, affecting those in their circles and communities, drawing in crowds and changing other hearts.

(And trust me, our Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has more of a history of encountering the Holy Spirit in his own life than you think. Pray that he remembers those moments from his past.)

Let’s just be real for a moment. I can think of many much more strenuous things I would do in order to see a revival come to this country, and see thousands come to know the Lord, than pray for my country for a couple of years. That seems like a no-brainer to me. All I’m asking is that you would pray with me, whenever you remember. Put a post-it note on your mirror in the bathroom so that you remember to say a thirty-second prayer in the morning while you get ready for your day.

This is not a long blog post, and I know I haven’t written for a while, but this is present on my heart and totally applicable to what the Lord is doing right now. In my former Catching the Fire of Revival posts, I have referenced the book The Calvary Road by Roy Hession, and I have based the previous posts on that incredible little book. I still recommend that you read this book if you want to know what revival is and how to get it in your heart. And trust me, it’s not a “bad time” for you, nor are you “not in the right head space” to experience a revival. It really doesn’t matter if you haven’t talked to God in a while either.

Thank you, God, that your love is unconditional. We suck.

As I have said before, God is on the move. Let’s get in on the action.

Catching the Fire of Revival Part I
Catching the Fire of Revival Part II

Wild Wilderness People

Pregnancy is weird.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again. But even though there is an Olympic-level soccer athlete inside my tummy trying to kick its way out, it seems to only be a slice of what I’m focused on right now. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean it like I asked for a slice in my life and God handed me a whole cake.

It just shocks me that a year ago things were so different. I found myself in a place of waiting for everything. It was tough, praying every night before we went to sleep that we would get pregnant and not seeing it happen, praying for the Lord’s army to rush in and spring forward the timeline for the house we had just decided to build. Waiting, waiting, waiting. God was teaching us so much back then and we knew it, but it didn’t make it any easier. The message He made so clear to us was that His timing was perfect.

“Your timing is perfect. And you see all things.”

That was how we ended all of our prayers.

Not a lot of people know that I actually had a miscarriage this year, after seven months of trying to get pregnant and not succeeding. I know seven months isn’t a long time to try for a baby, many people have to try for much longer. And I know that miscarriages are extremely common. But it still stung.

I remember driving to the hospital at 3am the night that I woke up with minor contractions and I won’t even begin to tell you about what else was happening to my body. We had JUST found out we were pregnant too. I was so heartbroken that through my sobs I sang the bridge of a song by Elevation Worship that I had led recently as part of the worship team at my church, “By your Spirit I will rise from the ashes of defeat, the resurrecting King, is resurrecting me. In your name I come alive, to declare your victory. The resurrecting King, is resurrecting me.” I sang this because I was trying to bring my baby back to life. I knew that I was losing it and I was trying to bring it back. I was doing the only thing that I was able as my body rejected it; I was worshipping. Jesus, the One who raises the dead back to life, because He was my first and last resort.

The thing was that it finally seemed like we were experiencing some breakthrough. We had finally gotten pregnant. We had finally started to see some forward movement with the property we were purchasing to build a house. But God’s timing really is perfect, even when it doesn’t seem that way. And He sees ALL things. Every corner of our hearts and what we are feeling. He knows every word we speak and every word spoken against us. He knows everything.

Well it was a few weeks after the miscarriage that I started feeling pretty ill. I thought it was just a regular old sickness of some kind. I started falling asleep everywhere too, which really isn’t like me. And then at a family gathering my sister, whom I believe said this by the nudging of the Lord even though she may not have known it, suggested the possibility of me being pregnant. The thing was that I had just gone through the whole miscarriage thing and I didn’t think it was possible for me to be pregnant that fast. But since she said it, I couldn’t just let the thought slide, not after everything. And I’m so grateful that she had the courage to ask the question even though it was probably hard to ask, because it was that same day I buckled and went in to buy a pregnancy test. Oh pregnancy tests. How I loathed them by this point. But as it turned out, I was pregnant after all. And I was already several weeks into the pregnancy.

What?!

Everything was a bit behind schedule, even my first Dr. appointment which is supposed to be around 9 weeks didn’t happen until 12 weeks because before I saw the doctor I had to have an ultrasound to see how far along I was before I could book my first appointment. Then, because of how behind that all was, I missed the ultrasound deadline for screening, which isn’t imperative or anything but still, it was something to chuckle about considering how slow everything seemed to be moving in my life before. Suddenly everything was full throttle, and when my first trimester hit it was a sudden uncoordinated mess of sleeping all the time or barfing all the time. It seemed like in a flash I was right out of the game altogether and couldn’t even function at regular life.

Now instead of everything moving at the speed of a slug, time was getting away from me. I was halfway through my pregnancy before I had even registered completely that I was actually going to have a baby. And a GIRL no less! Suddenly I was sitting on my bed in a state of shock, with all kinds of bizarre thoughts going through my head, “A girl…? Really? I don’t know how to take care of a girl! I only have experience with a boy! I don’t even have any girl clothes, or pink things, or pretty stuff. How am I suppose to raise a girl?”

Well if there is one thing that I’ve learned, it’s that God DOES know how to take care of our children. And our homes. And our good old well being. This has been such an incredible time of growing (spiritually and literally) for me. We have kept to this prayer, “Your timing is perfect, and You see all things” because it has gotten us through the dry parts of the wilderness. The walk was long, hot, dry, and sometimes uncomfortable, but we knew that if we were faithful and trusted in the Lord, He really was going to bring us into the promised land, the place that we just couldn’t see over the dry hills until we crossed them.

But it wasn’t just the baby. Like I said, that is just a slice. An itty-bitty four pound home-slice, to be exact. There was more. There was the house. The home. The place the Lord was preparing for us. God has a funny way of hiding the opportunities until the time is right, even when we are praying for them. Sometimes when we are in the wilderness we look around and don’t see much of anything, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something just behind that next hill, or the next one. Don’t let doubt make you stop walking. You will lose your way and it won’t look good on you. Keep your trust and keep your head on straight, eyes up to Heaven. Or you will quickly start to look like a wild wilderness monster, and you will probably sound like one too.

Worship is something that is very close to my heart, especially since I first found out I was pregnant with Chase, our first child. Over him I prayed for a Heart of Worship during my whole pregnancy, and that he would be anchored in the Father’s Heart. I also prayed that he would be a joyful child and tagged on that it would be really cool if he would sleep well through the night. Boy did I get that. But now a girl is coming. A sweet little princess…at least I think that’s the right thing to say about upcoming girls. I wasn’t a sweet little princess growing up. More like a sneaky, misbehaving, dirt-faced, toad who would put war paint across my face and run through the trees after squirrels. So it begs the question, what am I going to pray over this little girl?

Many ideas swarmed my mind at first. I thought I would pray for a little missionary, or more specifically, a trailblazer, who would head into uncharted territory with the gospel! But that didn’t feel right. Then I thought maybe she was more the dreaming type, and I would pray for big dreams and maybe even add on a prayer for the gift of dream interpretation, along with wild visions as a prophetic painter! But that didn’t feel right either. Teaching/Pastoral? A leader? Walking in the prophetic? Filled with words of knowledge? Wisdom and Creativity? No, I don’t think so. I mean I would love for her to have all these things but there wasn’t one thing in particular that stood out. Nothing seemed right to me until the image of mountains came into my mind. Mountains. Mover of mountains.

Yes. That was it.

Instantly I knew that what I was going to be praying over this child was for supernatural faith. The kind of faith that will see the mountains moved. Our little mountain mover. Prayers flooded my mind for unshakeable faith, someone who would go to war until the mountains before her started to tremble. Yes, this was definitely it. A prayer warrior in my own home? Yes, please! There were a few other things too, like patience, which may have just been a result of dealing with Chase and his business for the past two years and hoping for a child that might end up being a little more relaxed (ha!) I’m so excited for this baby, to look into her little eyes and tell her how much I love her. I’m so excited to paint gold mountains on the walls of her bedroom, so that she always remembers what she is capable of. I’m so excited to see what she grows up to be like.

Thank you, Jesus, for bringing us through the wilderness, and thank you that we didn’t lose sight of your plans, your perfect timing, and your wisdom when it would have been easy to do so.

Sorry this got so long, but it’s been a while and I guess I had a lot to tell. This walk through the wilderness has been a long one. But I believe it’s God’s heart that everyone makes it to the promised land. So hang in there.

Peace.

 

Christmas in July?

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Sure. Why the heck not?

I’ve had something brewing the last little while like a hot cup of slightly overcooked, grind infested java. Okay, minus the grind infested because apart from being mildly over analyzed, this idea doesn’t have major grinds.

Yes. Call me a weirdo. Everyone else probably does. But I’ve been dilly dallying here and there putting sparkly, vibrant, and vastly absurd ideas into a story.

About Christmas.

What?

….Yes, I said Christmas. And I didn’t stutter. That’s impossible on here.

I know its not typically where our minds go this time of year, but for whatever reason I was inspired; enough so that I got up off of my butt and just did it. Now my novel is complete, slapped together from the scraps my brain spewed, and I’m rather fond of the thing. Sometimes I write novels and I deem them equivalent to garbage, so I never try to make anything of them until years later when I rediscover their magic and redirect the course of the story to make them something exciting. Other ones I’ve written are a bizarre combination of my nerves prancing into existence because I took some odd risks, and my pride beaming out of my face because I think its probably the best thing I’ve ever created.

It’s probably not. But I always think it is at first.

This is somewhere around my thirty fifth novel that I’ve written just for kicks (this is not a brag, its more of an embarrassment actually because I have that many in existence and I’ve never truly set out to do anything with them), but I think it took me that many to get to a place where I feel I can write moderately better than rotten garbage.

Anyway, literary agents take half of eternity to get back to us hopeful beggars, so you aren’t going to get any juicy news about this for a long time. Sorry. Pray for me. I probably need it and stuff.

Thanks, people I know and random others I don’t. I hope the peace of God finds you today. Remember that loving God and knowing Him will get you further than anything else in this life.

Kropf out.

Wakey Wakey.

1908227_10151864286181604_1046793104_nApparently I take a lot of selfies while drinking coffee. I don’t regret it. Which makes me think…

I am shamefully self absorbed.

The thing about coffee is that it has so many perks; brings you out of your sleep-mode, creates a fabulous excuse for a social meeting, and it just tastes so stinking good. How does Starbucks get a Peppermint Mocha to taste like that? It doesn’t seem fair. I suspect the use of magic.

There is something blissful about drinking a warm cup of coffee on a chilly morning. Makes you think of snuggles. Good books. Kittens.

One month until the Love Encounter. It seems hard to believe, but somehow I’m not stressed about it at all. I’m so focused on God’s vision for this, His heart, what He will do. I don’t care to fuss over the other stuff. Booo other stuff.

One thing that seems to be reoccurring, a message that keeps coming to me, is that this conference will be an awakening. So many people are sleeping, maybe even blind. Doubtful. But I feel like God is telling me that this is going to wake up women from all over this region, women who will be activated to go out and start spreading the truth about the grace of Jesus in their schools, or workplaces. It’s like a spiritual cup of hot coffee.

But He doesn’t stop there. I start to think about my church, Wilmot Center. How can I explain this? Well, it feels like something in my stomach is bubbling (not in an indigestion way) and rising up into my heart, making it patter. I feel like this conference is going to birth a revival in my church, starting with the women. My church has been talking about the idea of revival for a lot of years. I’ve heard it many times. A revival, how cool would that be? But people seem tired. They seem half asleep. Everyone is overworked. Sometimes that can be discouraging. But personally I’m not willing to give up. My God doesn’t have limits like we do. Hallelujah – He is overflowing with power! So let’s spew spiritual coffee and spark the movement that is going to bring revival into this church. I love this church. And God loves it abundantly. He wants to see us healed, dancing, free!

Women being brave in the name of Jesus, that is the goal. Women healed. Women set free from bondage. Women alive. Women prophesying. Women redeemed. Women woken up from the dim day-to-day routine of their lives. Women speaking life into others. Women bringing the love of Jesus into their jobs.

It’s going to start with these saturated, infatuated, abundantly caffeinated women! goodvsevilcoffee

I ask that you would lift these things up in your prayers. Let’s cover this weekend encounter and all of these women in prayer so that they can be filled to overflowing with the presence of God.

When God Breathes. (Or Sneezes.)

ImageI did that thing again. The thing where I get the absurd idea that I can push forwards and figure out this dandy life all on my own. At what point am I going to realize that I’m not strong enough? I mean, I’m great. Sure. Maybe. Maybe not. But either way I’m stinking weak.

Me trying to run around and get things done for the Kingdom of God without actually taking a moment to consult God, is like me trying to build a Lego castle with my hands tied behind my back.

Now that would just be plain embarrassing. I’d have to use my feet.

When the Word of God speaks into my life I imagine God breathing right into me; inhale… exhale… redeemed. Forgiven. Shameless.

It takes time for God to breathe. Resting in his presence is pivotal when you’re trying to do something on His behalf. When I decide to take something He’s given me and run with it before He’s finished talking, or before I get the whole picture, I take God’s precious breaths and splatter them onto the world like a nasty sneeze. And that’s a bad representation of God. God doesn’t sneeze. He breathes.

God has so much to say. People misunderstand this because sometimes they shoot a prayer up to Heaven and don’t hear a reply. So they move on. But He’s talking. And He’s saying the most amazing things, things that could change your life, or your circumstance. Things that could call you into your destiny, or into an adventure.

What would God show you if you simply rested in his presence for twenty minutes? And don’t say you don’t have time. Twenty minutes is nothing. Twenty minutes is the amount of time it takes my husband to make a ham sandwich. Anyone can talk to God for twenty minutes.

Something that I’ve avoided telling the world thus far is that I’ve been writing nonfiction novels since I was fifteen years old. I probably have about thirty novels sitting on my laptop right now that are around 100 pages in Microsoft Word. I do it as a hobby. It was always my way to relax after a rough day at work or at school. Depending on where I was working in the past, sometimes I wrote 4 – 5 novels a month. I’d sit down with a great opening line or a mind boggling concept and in three days I would polish off a whole book, which resulted in a lot of series writing.

This, though fun, has also been a crutch for me. It’s so easy to dive into a place that’s not real and disappear for a while, instead of taking responsibility for the things that God is telling me to do by simply ‘holding off’ on them until I’m ‘ready’. So when I come up for air from my book-universes I take off running with the last thing I can remember that God told me, and get confused as to why it seems like I’m starting to veer off in the wrong direction.

I feel like this could be solved so easily if I just took twenty minutes to have a conversation with Him before I start plowing forwards. But I’m constantly forgetting. I love writing, a little too much, in a borderline-obsessive kind of way. I think that most writers have a story inside of them that’s relentlessly trying to get out at least 83% of the time. And I don’t consider that to be a curse, I consider it to be a gift. But I have to make time for God, I must. Or I’ll stop in the middle of the journey somewhere and realize that I don’t know even know where I am. And those moments are the worst. It makes me restless. I usually turn into a bear.

God breathes. And it’s so refreshing. It’s like sinking into a hot bath with pomegranate scented bubbles.

People spend years and thousands of dollars on things that they think can give them a moment of relief like that; therapy, vacations, spa days, whatever. And that stuff can be fab. But none of it will make a difference if your mind is restless – if you haven’t made things right with God.

Twenty minutes of letting Him breathe into you. Please just try it. It’s free.

Kropf out.

Younglings. Oldies. We’re all the same.

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a person. The person faced trials. Then the person overcame the trials.

The end.

Sometimes I feel like this is all we give when we attempt to call greatness out of ourselves. We give the bare minimum, because often our doubts overshadow God’s strength. Instead of a colourful full detailed epic tale we hand out a three sentence ‘stick figure’ version of what we think we can do. What’s our problem though? God tells us over and over that it’s not by our strength but by His that we thrive. So even if we can’t do it, He can.

Personally I’ve had a hard time in the past feeling like I’m too young to head into the movement. And there is a movement happening, trust me, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s one of God’s design, where His spirit is breaking chains, healing the sick and delivering people from pains of their past. But though I feel Him calling me into it, like the beckoning that comes from seeing a cool clear body of water on a blistering hot day, I constantly look around and acknowledge that those around me setting the stage for His ministry are much older.

Maybe you also feel too young. Or maybe you feel too old. But personally I don’t think God cares for our age, I think he cares more about our willingness to plunge into the water.

But still, we give just what we must. We don’t make an effort where we aren’t confident in ourselves. But if God calls us into something, it’s because he is confident in us. And he doesn’t regret his choice, or make mistakes. This is especially cool because it means he’s also not planning on letting you go out into the water unprepared, rather he’s planning to equip you by his power. And his power lets us do incredible things, like walk on the water.

Sweeeeet.

God isn’t looking for those who feel equipped, old enough or young enough. He’s looking for the willing. And the willing are the ones who will bring specks of his supernatural kingdom to earth. I don’t know about you, but I want in on that.

Look what happened to Jeremiah. This is what he writes:

The Lord gave me this message:

“I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations.”

“O Sovereign Lord,” I said, “I can’t speak for you! I’m too young!”

The Lord replied, “Don’t say, ‘I’m too young,’ for you must go wherever I send you and say whatever I tell you. And don’t be afraid of the people, for I will be with you and will protect you. I, the Lord, have spoken!” Then the Lord reached out and touched my mouth and said,

“Look, I have put my words in your mouth! 10 Today I appoint you to stand up against nations and kingdoms. Some you must uproot and tear down, destroy and overthrow. Others you must build up and plant.”

Yes…yes I definitely want in on that.

This weekend I’m going to California for a conference called “Brave Love” for women in ministry. Apart from being a completely stoked Canadian girl who is pumped to leave the cold for a few days, I’m also anticipating what God is planning to reveal to me at this weekend. The whole process of going to this conference has been remarkable thus far, and I can’t wait to see what God is going to do once I get there. Chances are I will be blogging about what I learn at some point, so be prepared.

I meet so many people who feel like they ‘don’t have what it takes’. And I feel like I’m constantly fighting this lie (you can even read about it in some of my past blog posts). But it’s more than just that – I feel really passionate about giving people the courage to step out of the ‘cloud’ they’re living under and walk in their destiny, the bright full one that God has lain out for them. God doesn’t take your future lightly. You shouldn’t either.

So be blessed humans! I’m sending out prayers. If you read this then I’m praying that the Spirit comes upon you and ministers to your soul.

Later.