God Goes Where Power Is Not

I came to Warren as a light in the darkness; as the only guy in the county who knew the right way to reach people and students and the only one who had a true passion for the Gospel. Growing up here somehow jaded me to my local portion of the Body of Christ.

I came to Warren to save it; in reality, Warren saved me.

God has shown me more about ministry in the last 10 weeks than in an entire year at Moody. It's so easy to think you have it goin on while in your dorm room at 2 a.m. with your friends. But as Rick, my newest friend and mentor, told me long ago, 'This isn't a theological exercise anymore, Kyle. These are real people, with real hurts, now.'

My plans for my youth ministry never came to fruition; my shiny ministry plan in good looking font barely came to frution. My curriculum guide went out the window a month ago. The Sr. High guys small group never happened because the Sr. High guys never came. Outings, hang out nights, and other fun ideas fade to the background as I try to love on kids that come to church hungry.

I've ended up helping with the children's ministry on Sunday mornings because there aren't enough workers to take care of our kids. I'm finally reaching my two seventh graders who think they're too tough for just about anything, but really just wish their families were 'normal.' This past Sunday Ayvan found out this isn't a permanent thing, that I have to go back to Chicago. He was visibly disappointed and a little upset.

Pretty much everything that I imagined and planned to happen this summer did not; this is something I knew would probably happen but I wasn't all that prepared for it. It's much easier to deal with in theory.

But what has happened in me this summer has changed me for eternity.

Rick and some pastors from our area meet weekly to pray for revival in our county. Once a month, the hold a prayer vigil on a Friday night, from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. I had the priveledge to go last week and it might have been the highlight of my summer. At about 4 a.m. we were praying for all people of my county, and interceding on their behalf. I was praying specifically for my generation, when Everett Whiteside, a pastor in the area, said, 'Brothers, we need to lay hands on him.'

And they did.

I was on my knees as 7 men laid hands on me. This wasn't limp laying of hands; they were pressing into me. Everett had his hand right over my heart, and I will never forget what he said: "God, I know that you have sent Kyle back here to show him a great many things. God you are transforming him; you are making him a New Wineskin filled with New Wine. Not an Old Wineskin with New Wine, or a New Wineskin with Old Wine, but completely made new. And God, right now, we release our years of experience into Kyle; we realease these years of experience so that he will know how to deal with the trials we've faced and how to handle the joys, too. We ask that this would not only accelerate him professionally, but also personally." And so on. It might be one of the most profound moments of my life.

It is here that God meets us: in the moments of the unlikely, we discover his plans for us. Sometimes we think you have to be a pastor of a church of a bajillion in order to change the world; it's now that I am seeing you don't need to be super-cool and mega-hip to be passionate.

God goes where power is not. If this isn't true here, it isn't true at all. Thank God for the underdog.