This chapter talks more about hope -- how we need it like oxygen to survive. It mentions how the world desperately needs hope, but seems intent on killing it or squelching it.
"Martin Luther King had a dream, and they killed him."
That's a powerful statement. "Hope is rare," McManus states, "but we don't need much of it to experience its power."
I am reminded of something that gives me great hope. I've brought this up before... I was at a church retreat in my elementary or junior high years -- I can't remember which. During the end of a "worship" time, the music stopped as everyone started hugging each other. The atmosphere in the room was like dense love. You could feel the energy. There were lots of tears and everyone was turning around, hugging, moving on and hugging another. It's a memory that has told me: "Christians are the happiest people on earth." That's the hope.
It is certain that Christians aren't happy all the time. We don't have to smile for every picture or every hello. Mustering a smile might help. Faking it has problems inherent. Sometimes pulling together a smile, though, is better than bringing down those around you and wallowing in your depression or self-sadness. But our life is not always up. This event was very special for me. One of the reasons it's special is that it was rare. Trying to duplicate and re-live this moment is probably futile. I was at a concert one time that was electric. I've described this event before, too.
Jereusalem was at the Exodus '85 Festival in Victoria, TX. It was out in this large field -- some believer's private property. Outside Houston, near Corpus Christi housed a really cool show. On the bill were Kemper Crabb, Rez Band, Prodigal, First Strike, and Jerusalem. There were others on the bill, but I can't recall at the moment. The members of Jerusalem had played a show in Utah or somewhere West the previous day or so. Due to the airlines strike at the time, they had delay after delay. Finally, one of the promoters went to the Houston airport, I think, to pick them up. There was four long-haired guys and this lady in a small Toyota-like sedan. They were pulled over on the way. The promoter explained that she told the suspicious officer, "They're all good, Christian boys!" The band made it to the fest late. Rez played in their slot. They arrived without their instruments, so they borrowed. They pretty much had very little time to get out of the car and get on stage. They probably felt stressed and spent due to the ongoing hassles of the day. They probably offered what little they had to God. "Use what you can," they probably said, just like the young lad with just loaves and fishes. What happened next is the stuff of legend. I'll never forget it.
The band played and we listened. Riveted. When they did one of their new songs, "The Wind Is Blowing," it was like God projected His own video for the event. A huge number of small, round clouds settled over the area. It was as if they lowered themselves to a glass ceiling not too far above our heads. I can't say how many feet -- maybe 1,000 feet? And once the clouds hit that imaginary glass sheet, they flattened a little on the bottom. Singer Ulf Christiansson sang the words, "the wind is blowing," and the clouds started moving East at high speed, as if on cue. It was jaw dropping amazing and beautiful. But it didn't stop there. After a song, Ulf led the audience into an impromptu-sounding song that repeated the phrase, "Love is our weapon." After the audience caught on and started singing it, carrying the song's load, he sat his guitar down, hopped off the high stage and approached the audience. The goofy idiot self-centered fan in me remembers that I was the first one he hugged, but then he hugged another and we all started turning around and hugging everyone near us as he moved through the crowd. It was like one of those Bono magical moments. At another point in the show, I remember, he made a point about making a difference in our world, and he started rattling off city names from Texas -- San Antonio, Victoria, Austin, Houston... It was like this Swedish singer knew his geography. Some of us suspected that it might've been a "God thing," where someone in the spirit realm was giving him knowledge that his own brain didn't have stored. I dunno.
As special as that memory is, though, the "hug time" wasn't as intense and emotional as the retreat one. That's a mountaintop experience I can still recall with awe. Again, trying to duplicate an event like that is probably really dumb. Emotions probably shouldn't be manipulated and manufactured like so many widgets. As we get more and more sophisticated with our technology and such, we'll get closer to replicating human emotions with virtual reality and computerized holograms, I'm sure. But my hope for the world is that everyone -- or at least lots of us (as many as possible) -- will feel that love. That it'll be so dense and real that they can't deny it. That's my hope.
Posted by Doug Van Pelt at October 4, 2007 10:34 AM