We took our tribe of guys, their friends, and some older family members out
on a gray, blustery day to see a Christmas program.
The auditorium was packed full, and the seats we finally claimed were on the extreme right
edge of the stage. By the time we finished shuffling our elders to the better seats,
I had no view of the set at the back of the stage at all, but a decent view of the stage itself.
Circumstances were not ideal, if you get my drift.
The house lights went down, the play began, and my heart was tossed right into a hurricane.
The music, the props, the movement ... I was swept, unanchored, into the drama of the incarnation.
My neighbors to the left and right—unaffected.
Those in the rows around me rustled and shuffled as you would expect, but I was
bolted in my seat, blanketed by a downy heaviness, the very last thing I
expected to experience.
I'm not unfamiliar with what happened.
In the old-time church circles of my youth, they'd say,
"The Holy Ghost was strong in the house today!"
I came away refreshed and almost raw, with a newly circumcised heart—
a precious Christmas gift from my heavenly Father.
Have you ever had a similar experience?
I'd love to hear about it.