Crusade

"How many people do you think will be there?" I asked Rebeca as we came near to the end of our road trip. She said she didn't know, so I offered a guess. "One thousand?" She laughed and said, "No, there could be as many as ten thousand. You are going to be amazed!" And she was right. When we pulled up to the public square of the capital city, the whole park was full of onlookers with standing room only. 

We had arrived to the "crusade". To be entirely honest, this is not the kind of event I would normally attend in the United States. It was very charismatic and dramatic, like imagine what you've seen on television when a so called "prophet" touches people's foreheads and counts to three and then proclaims "Power!" and the people roll on the floor screaming and then get up healed. Yeah, that kind of stuff. But before you make any judgements, let me tell you something. 

My African friends - the ones who love Jesus with all their hearts - talked me into going to this because they were more excited about it than I get excited about the Passion Conference. Since I've never been to anything like it, I decided that I can't judge without having seen, and so I went with a heart wide open. 

The event opened with an amazing time of worship. Africans know how to worship with their whole bodies and souls, and we moved from a period of joyful dancing and shouting to a moment of reflective adoration and contemplative worship. It reminded me of heaven, where a crowd from every tongue, nation, people, and race will gather to rejoice in the presence of the Lamb. I imagine that we will spend eternity learning from the many nations how they worship God in their language and culture, and I can't wait for you to see them there - the Africans - because I imagine that they will teach us and lead us in joyful, passionate, full-body and soul worship. 

The message was equally powerful as the pastor had encouraged everyone to bring a bag of dirt from their village. Together, we prayed over the dirt, anointed it with oil, and prayed for our villages. When Rebeca asked me if I understood, I said yes because I thought I did, but I didn't actually understand the depth of it. She continued to explain, "Here in Africa, people who want to put a curse on you bury something in the ground around your house or in your field. The curse is placed in the dirt, and when the dirt is cursed, there is nothing you can do about it. It's happened to all of us - people get sick, the crops die, terrible things happen because of the curse. To anoint our dirt with oil and pray over our land is to physically reverse the curse and free us from the darkness that once had a hold on us. Only Jesus can free us like that." 

Her explanation brought tears to my eyes, and my heart grew even fonder of the power of Jesus as he manifests himself according to this culture that I have come to love. 

After the message, the pastor began to prophesy and call people forward for healing. This is the part that was new and honestly strange to me, but I promised the Lord to have an open heart and to listen to him, and this is what I believe he showed me. 

I believe with all my heart that God still performs miracles today; I knew that before even going to this event. In our western world, where people have so many medical options that physical miraculous healing is not needed, and even if it happened, the glory would be rendered to science and not to God, miracles really don't happen too often. (They happen, it's just not widespread or accepted as normal.) But in Africa, where people are poor and have no options except to beg for the miraculous hand of God to touch them and save them, their faith is comparable to the people of Jesus' time, and I think because of their hunger and their faith, God is more inclined to show his power in that way because he gets glory and people truly believe. 

I also believe that God endows different spiritual gifts to different people, including the gift of healing. I know it's radical, but it's also biblical. However, when it comes to all the noise and the drama and the charisma and the "show", I wonder how much of it is real and how much of it is staged or performed. At the same time, we Americans have our own cultural way of doing the same thing. If Africans came to America and attended a church with a worship band, lights, and staging, would they not consider that, too, a little showy? What I find amazing is this: even when man makes a show out of things, God still glorifies his name. And really, if we are going to make a show out of anything or anyone, God should get the center stage. He is so worthy of our worship and adoration, and we have different ways of expressing it culturally. 

Whether the healings and exorcisms are real or fake, this is undeniably true: what people see causes them to believe, and for that, I render all glory to God. At the end of every session when the prophet would call people to profess faith in Jesus, a hoard of people would respond to give their lives to the Lord. Time and time again, I heard testimonies of how Muslims and animists came to faith in Christ because of crusades like this. Overall, the gospel was preached correctly, the worship was powerful, miracles were performed, and people were saved. 

It reminds me of Jesus disciples when they came to him to explain that a man who was not one of his disciples was casting out demons in his name. The disciples wanted to stop him, but Jesus rebuked them and said, "Whoever is not against us is for us." Whether the prophet is a phony or not is another discussion, but I know that I saw the fruit of his preaching and healing, and it brought glory to God. 

We must compare all things - all of our experiences - to the Word of God. If it aligns, it is of God. If it doesn't, we must be wary of the fact that man can unjustly add to the word of God. We must accept the things that are of God, glorify him for them, and then let go of the rest. 

All this stretches and strengthens my faith. I've seen things that I've never seen before. I've asked questions that I've never asked, prayed over issues that I've never prayed over, and had good conversations that I've never had. Perhaps what has touched me most of all is seeing how my African friends loved the crusade, how they gave God glory and highest praise, how their faith was truly strengthened, and how they came back on fire for Jesus. This was a part of their spiritual growth journey as well as mine, and I never want to quench that fire with my own doubts and suspicions. 

Culture, denomination, charisma, and miracles all set aside, Jesus was exalted through it all, and I, too, join the ranks of those who believe in his miraculous power to heal and to save even today. 

I learn a lot from the faith of the Africans, and I pray that God continues to open my eyes and my heart to consider his power and manifestations in ways that I've never been exposed to, ways that are actually crazily similar to what we read about in the New Testament. And may the same anointing of the Holy Spirit that we experienced at the crusade now continually reign in our hearts, and may we carry his name and his power with us wherever we go. 

For the power to heal and to save is not found in a man, nor a prophet, nor a crusade, nor any object or action but only in the precious, glorious name of Jesus Christ, who is the same yesterday, today, and forever, who dwells in our hearts through the Holy Spirit, and who clothes us with power from on high to preach his word and demonstrate his gospel for the glory of his name among the nations.