Last night I was taught a lesson I’ve been taught before.
Yesterday I was once again on the streets of Vegas. A million people but alone with Holy Spirit who was remarkably silent. He made his presence very known but he wasn’t talking.
I prayed for a lady about my age. She was in a walker. She is supposed to be in a wheelchair but she’d rather deal with the pain to not be. I prayed for her, prophesied over her, and she walked with me. It wasn’t a great walk. It looked very awkward, but she wasn’t in anywhere near the same pain. She had a degenerative bone disease and something wrong with her spine. She was Baptist and had never felt or heard prayer like that. She didn’t believe the way I did, but she does now and even talked of finding a Pentecostal church. I loved that woman’s tenacity. I loved that she felt so loved.
I prayed for a street performer for healing in his neck after I got a word of knowledge walking by, and went and ministered to more of the homeless I found in the streets here. They’re not hard to find.
I had the chance to see some other “street evangelists” out doing their thing… carrying signs decrying the depravity of the people and the consequences of their choices. You know the ones. The big bold bright colored signs with the words SIN and HELL in bold capitalized letters and the bullhorns used to shout how the people are all participants in both. I wanted to talk to these guys and see how many people had been saved and experienced the presence of God through their ministry. I didn’t get close enough before they were off down the other side of the strip to get a good listen or see their crowd interaction. I could be completely wrong about what they were sharing… they have the right message… but I have found delivery, effectiveness, and most importantly love to be lacking most often in these ministries.
The majority of the night I felt like Holy Spirit was following me wondering what I was going to do instead of leading. I met with more aggression than ever when asking to pray with people. People got down right mad. And I’m here with no back up. People come to Vegas to forget about God, not encounter him. I somehow thought “but I want to love them so much that their attitude won’t reflect that,” forgetting how Jesus, the ultimate example of love was treated. I walked up to my room at the end of the night on that note, pondering on things that I didn’t see when Holy Spirit finally spoke direct again. He asked, “So what are you going to do? Is this about you?” Ugh… No Lord, it’s about you and what I see or get to experience doesn’t matter. I will continue to pray, continue to love, continue to pour out. But I’ll be honest, I like it a whole lot better when everyone gets prayed for, everyone gets healed, and everyone accepts Jesus. Reaping feels way better than plowing.