Revival

This is a photo of me with Jim Cymbala when I was in NYC last month. He's one of my favorite authors, and when I was there, he gave me a book. I finished it in a heartbeat on the plane, then pulled out Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire, his first book and the one that changed the way I pray. When the world seems nuts, the stories and Scripture referenced in this book help. Here's an excerpt:

....Moreover, Carol and I had frankly admitted to each other that unless God broke through, the Brooklyn Tabernacle was doomed. We couldn't finesse it along. We couldn't organize or program our way out. The embarrassing thing was, sometimes I didn't even want to show up for a service--that's how bad it was.
We had to have a visitation of the Holy Spirit, or bust.
"Lord, I have no idea how to be a successful pastor," I prayed softly out there on the water. "I haven't been trained. All I know is that Carol and I are working in the middle of New York City, with people dying on every side, overdosing from heroin, consumed by materialism, and all the rest. If the gospel is so powerful...."
I couldn't finish the sentence. Tears choked me. Fortunately, the others on the boat were too far away to notice as they studied the lines in the blue-green water.
Then quietly but forcefully, in words not heard with my ear but deep within my spirit, I sensed God speaking:

"If you and your wife will lead my people to pray and call upon my name, you will never lack for something fresh to preach. I will supply all the money that's needed, both for the church and for your family, and you will never have a building large enough to contain the crowds I will send in response."

I was overwhelmed. My tears intensified. I looked at the other passengers, still preoccupied with their fishing. Nobody glanced in my direction.
I knew I had heard from God, even though I had not experienced some strange vision, nothing sensational or peculiar. God was simply focusing on the only answer to our situation, or anyone else's for that matter. His word to me was grounded in countless promises repeated in the Scriptures; it was the very thing that had produced every revival of the Holy Spirit throughout history.It was the truth that had made Charles G. Finney, Dwight L. Moody, A.B. Simpson, and other men and women used mightily of God. It was what I already knew, but God was now drawing me out, pulling me toward an actual experience of himself and his power. He was telling me that my hunger for him and his transforming power would be satisfied as I led my tiny congregation to call out to him in prayer.
As the boat docked later that afternoon, I felt wonderfully calm. A few days later I flew back to New York, still the same young pastor I had always been. But all the modern trends and new ideas about church growth were now irrelevant. God had promised to provide, to respond to our cries for divine help. We were not alone, attempting the impossible in a heartless world. God was present, and He would act on our behalf.

I read an article recently that asserted that mankind is not likely, regardless of who is elected President in November, to have a big epiphany on how to treat each other. I'm praying for more than an epiphany for our country. I'm praying for revival.

Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire. Jim Cymbala. Zondervan publishing, 1997. pp.24-26