Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Photo by John Price on Unsplash

“Wake up. Wake up, Church. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up…”

I was watching Gather25. Twenty-four hours of livestream. The Church gathered around the world. Every continent. Every timezone. Cultures, languages, peoples. Listening to stories of actual revival. Spirit movement. Dreams. Young people—teens, collegiates—hungry for God, saying YES. YES. YES to Jesus.  

There was this guy in London, a pastor I think. He told story after story of a radical movement among the youth. He described the times we’re living, here in the West, as “no longer post-Christian, but pre—” Pre-Christian. He explained how a post-Christian culture is saturated and numb. They’ve heard too much and rejected the pressure. The hype. They’re over it. Done. But then comes this new generation. Who haven’t heard. Who haven’t become cynical because they haven’t become saturated. They’re like holy sponges. Hungry. hungry. hungry. 

For God. 

Jennie Allen is the founder of IF:Gathering. A women’s conference, started a decade ago. After ten years, she had this vision, to gather the globe. And somehow she rallies a team of like-minded, high-capacity, why-not people and they actually do it. You can watch all twenty-four hours here, if you’re so inclined. (Scroll down and you can watch it all.) I'm still watching...

But it’s this one moment I can’t shake. Burned in my heart and mind. I’ve replayed it countless times. Jennie’s whispered, desperate plea: 

“Wake up. Wake up, Church. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up…”

I don’t know who else heard it. All I know is it has awakened something in me. 

A seed God planted twenty years ago. Two full decades. My sons were children. I’ll never forget…

A chair in the corner of a suburban bedroom. Hands extended. Tears dripping off my chin. Holy Spirit, loud and clear: 

“Wake up the sleeping church!” 

It’s not the only time I’ve heard the Spirit’s voice. Not audible, of course, but louder. There are lots of stories I could tell, but only one when I sensed A CALLING. 

God’s Call. For me. 

Twenty years ago, and ever since I’ve wondered. What did it mean? What should I do? Two decades later, I’m still wondering. How? When? Am I doing what You called me to do? 

I don’t know. 

So. When Jennie Allen looked out at a livestream audience…looked into the lens of that camera…and she made her plea…

I was paying attention. 

Wake up the sleeping church!!!

The past couple of years I’ve felt like I’ve been following breadcrumbs. Can we call it manna? Maybe I’ve been following a trail of manna. My husband, too. We’ve sensed God giving us hints, like seeds in a basket. I’ve been telling people. Friends, who seem somewhat interested in my piecemeal story. I’m waiting to see where the breadcrumbs lead. What the basket is for…

“The Holy Spirit is calling. Moving. Doing something.”

I say it again, to my own gathering of friends, here by my lake-house fire. I tell them, 

“The Holy Spirit is doing something, and I don’t want to miss it.” 

We don’t want to miss it. Kyle and I. Our friends. Son and wives, who are also paying attention. 

You, too??! 

Something is happening, and the Church is responding. 

Wake up, Church… 

I listen hard. I watch and I listen. Basket in hand.

READY!