Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

There are several things I find wanting from the evolving American church of today. Hymns. Altar services. Prayer meetings. I deeply miss prayer meetings. Real ones. Not the civilized, polite, pre-written prayers quietly uttered in a hushed room before the sermon or at service dismissal. I miss the prayer meetings of 30 years ago. Heart-wrenching, gut-twisting, soul-changing prayers cried out in one accord for repentance, revival, and renewal, altering the course of lives for time and eternity. I miss those prayer services. 

I can still picture the gathering of prayer warriors around church and camp meeting altars. Just as I can hear the four-part harmony of “Amazing Grace” echoing through the camp tabernacle, I hear the mild roar of saints calling on the God they knew could do above and beyond anything they could ask or think. (Jeremiah 33:3) I can see the ladies gathered in my great-aunt’s living room for Sunday afternoon prayer. I still hear their voices raised in praise, penitence, and petition to the God who promised to hear when we call. (Jeremiah 29:12-13) I can picture the faces of pastors agonizing over their flocks. Indelibly etched in my memory is the image of my Dad, kneeling beside the pulpit of a little basement church in Montana, tears flowing, voice broken, crying out with his whole being words from Isaiah 64:1, “Oh, that thou wouldest rend the heavens and come down!” I miss those times. I miss those prayers. I miss the results. 

As much as we needed those results then, we need them even more today. It takes only a glimpse of news to recognize our society for the morally bankrupt, spiritually desolate place it has become. God’s words, spoken through the weeping prophet Jeremiah, echo down to us in a  resounding proclamation applicable to our day, possibly more so than the day in which they were spoken, “God’s people have traded the power and presence and glory of God to go and worship idols.” (Jeremiah 2:11) It is true. This is us. We are happy to play at being followers of God, but we aren’t serious about it. We idolize our things, our fun, our lives too much. We enjoy our power and status. We fail to realize that true power comes from bowing low at Jesus’ feet.  

We don’t bow there anymore. We pray on the run, asking God for a list of things we want, a miracle we’d like to see, but the plight of our souls never crosses our lips. We have quit begging God to rend the heavens and come down. We don’t really want Him here. We don’t accept His authority. We don’t like His rules. We don’t want His will.  We don’t want to make changes in our lives that might set us apart from the world. We want to live just as close to the world as possible, yet still claim Heaven. We don’t want our willfully ignorant bubble burst by God’s words, God’s plans, God’s will. We are content with our form of godliness. We want nothing more. (II Timothy 3:1-5)

 It shows. Both in our lives and our churches. It is evident in our lackluster singing. It is obvious in our non-existent praise. It is unmistakable in our lethargic prayers. It is indisputable in our ungodly lives. As we chase down our own opinions, desires, and ideas, we embody the words of Jeremiah 3:3, “The showers haven’t come, the spring rain has been withheld, because you continue in your sin and feel you need not be ashamed.” How long will we keep going this way? How long can we continue without a reformation?

October 31, 1517, must have been an amazing day. I can only imagine how it felt to actually watch Martin Luther nail his Ninety-Five Theses to the door of Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany, forever altering the course of Christendom. I can only guess how it felt for him as he stood in the Diet of Worms defending the beliefs he knew to be true. Beliefs that were based on the authority of Scripture as God’s infallible Word, and the absolute knowledge that justification from sin comes only through repentance and faith in Christ’s work on the cross, not from good works. You can’t work your way into Heaven. No one on earth can forgive sins. You can’t buy advance tickets, box seats, or special dispensations. Only Jesus’ blood and righteousness can get you there. Not one of those truths has changed over the last 500 years. 

We act like they have. We live like the Ten Commandments are negotiable unless they fit our purpose. There appears to be some deep-seated idea that God doesn’t mean what He inspired all those people to write. (II Peter 1:21) We treat the Bible like the produce section of the grocery store. Feeling, squeezing,  smelling, and judging. Taking only what we like and leaving the rest. We have clearly forgotten that the mark of a true follower of God is keeping His commandments with a heart happy to do so. (I John 5:3; Isaiah 64:5) 

Like the 16th century church, we desperately need a reformation. We need change. Like Jeremiah’s audience, we need to go back to the ancient paths. Go back to following God. Go back to doing what we know is right. (Jeremiah 6:16) The true church of Christ is withering and dying. We need to do something. But what? Would a list of grievances tacked to the church door bring revival? Not likely. Would a blazing sermon on eternal damnation bring people rushing back to God? Doubtful. So how do we do it? How do we make change happen? How do we bring spiritual reformation, rejuvenation to a society so happy to speak Jesus with their mouths but reject Him with their lives? 

It’s time for prayer meeting. It’s time to beg God to intervene. It’s time to intercede for heaven rending help from the God whose saving hand isn’t shortened, whose hearing isn’t dull. (Isaiah 59:1) It’s time to pray. There is nothing else we can do. No amount of preaching, proselytizing, or prophesying can accomplish what prayer can. When the people of God come humbly before Him in repentance and reformation, seeking His face continually, earnestly, urgently, God answers. (II Chronicles 7:14) Prayer is the best we can do. Prayer is all we can do. It is all we need. 

Over the last year or so it seems I’ve seen beloved saints pass on to their eternal reward with alarming frequency. Saints who knew how to touch Heaven in prayer. With each report of their passing, my heart has questioned, “Who will pray for us now? Who will stand in the gap? Who will hold the line? Who will keep the faith? Who will show us how to follow God wholeheartedly?” More sobering is the fact that, as each saint has crossed the golden threshold, they have handed back a baton. A baton labeled “old paths”. A baton labeled “prayer”. A baton and a battle cry, “Lord, rend the heavens and come down!” 

Frightening realization grips me as I gaze in the mirror and know with certainty those batons have been handed to me, to you. We shouldn’t be surprised. We are. As the old guard passes, the new guard must take their place. And we are the new guard. Their batons rest firmly in our hands. It is our responsibility to pray, to seek the face of God. It is our responsibility to stand in the gap, keep the faith, and live like it. It is our responsibility to raise the battle cry, “Lord, rend the heavens and come down!”

As terrified as I am to ask, I find myself duty-bound to do so. What are we doing with those batons?  Have we grasped them firmly like the God-given responsibility they are and prayed like we haven’t prayed in years? Are we inspiring our children to follow God, not just in actions, but to bombard Heaven with their prayers? Will they grow up remembering prayer meetings? Or are we so wrapped up in our lives, our jobs, our friends, our fun that we can take only a few minutes to pray? Are we too distracted to seek the Lord? Are our churches too busy for prayer meetings? Are we simply too lazy, too complacent, too apathetic to cry out the words, “Oh, that thou wouldest rend the heavens and come down”? Do we even care if He does?

My heart is shattered to think we don’t. Crushed to think we have so distanced ourselves from the power of prayer that we are not starving for an outpouring of God’s spirit, sweeping change into our families, our churches, our society, our world. My soul weeps because we care more about the things of the world, its pleasures and passions, than imploring God to send His spirit flowing among us. I am broken that the cry of our selfish hearts is more prevalent than the repentant cry for renewal, revival, reformation. I am troubled that we take it so lightly because I know, in the depths of my soul, that rending the Heavens is our only hope. 

Knowing that, I feel compelled to ask, what are you doing with your baton? Have you laid it aside, mislaid it? Did you fail to take it seriously? Do you realize the future of your children, your church, your country rests in passing that baton? Maybe you have no memories of prayer meetings from days gone by. Maybe you’ve never knelt before God and cried out to Him in desperation, believing what He said He would do. (Romans 4:21) This is your moment. This is your opportunity to weed through the meaningless drivel and wasted moments of your life, toss out the things that mean so much less than the presence of God, and take time to fall before Him in prayer. This is your time to join the saints who have gone before us, the saints who are soon to cross, and those who are currently carrying the baton of prayer and boldly cry out, “Oh, that thou wouldest rend the heavens and come down!” This cry is the best thing we can do. Prayer is all we can do. Rending the heavens is our only hope. (Hebrews 4:16)