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On Tuesday, August 16, 1994, I had a most remarkable experience in the Lord. I will try my best to put words to it for our mutual edification. It had been roughly six weeks since my wife had asked me to leave her and our children, stating her intention to discontinue our marriage relationship permanently. I did leave. Though I had a great deal of knowledge in the things of God, and had known what I was supposed to do and be as her husband, and though I had tried (as hard as any man can try) to be what I was supposed to be, I was
being counted an utter failure as a husband before the world. Clearly, I had I failed to love my wife with an unconditional, Christ-like love. Still, I was not broken over my sin. Something within me could not be broken over it,
and I justified myself. On the previous Monday evening, Aug. 15th, during a phone conversation, I had received some very difficult counsel regarding this dilemma from a mutual friend of my wife and
myself. While he did not understand the scriptural foundation for the home, he was, nonetheless, deeply interested in seeing us reconciled and was basically familiar with the context of our trouble. He had called me to discuss it. As it happened, his general approach in dealing with troubled marriages was to blame the husband entirely, and so it was no different with me (at first anyway… working with my wife would prove to be a new experience
for him.) He found me to be quite cooperative and genuine with him, though I was not desperate and unthinking. What little I did know served as somewhat of a precaution in this, but the obvious lack of alternatives in trying to
make progress toward restoration was clear. Though the marriage was terrifically painful for me, I still wanted to make things work and was willing to do whatever it would take. Since I was the only cooperative one involved, it was
clear he would have to start with me. My friend observed that, while my wife's wrongs ought not to be indefinitely ignored, so long as I continued to justify myself -- or in any way lessen the severity of my wrongs toward her, no progress could be made toward reconciliation with her. Any lack of total brokenness on my part would only further alienate her from me. The facts were cold and hard. While I could mentally acknowledge the severity of the wrongs that I had committed against my wife and accept whatever
consequences would most surely follow, it was not within me to be broken over my sin due to the context of it. Even then, I felt I had scriptural grounds for this in some ways and was at a total impasse in the issue. It was not
within me to feel any other way about it. However, sensing that my friend was theoretically correct, I mentally consented to his analysis even though I was powerless to feel the repentance he defined. I felt the
urgency with which he presented it to me before the Lord, as he sensed that my lack of brokenness was a total block to the restoration of my marriage. I committed myself to ask God to work this level of repentance,
contrition and brokenness in me regardless of whether it was suggested by an unfair disposition or not. I was beginning to see that context would never justify any sin before the Lord, though this is not the natural way with Man
and Man labels this... "unfair." Sin is sin… period. I could see that if this type of unconditional repentance was right, it made no difference whether I was capable of it, or whether it seemed
unfair for the Lord to require it of me. Immediately after making this mental assent, I began to feel the Lord at work in me in a unique and precious way as a concern whelmed within my soul that I was wrong before
my God. We were still on the phone at the time; it was about 10:30 p.m. Monday night. After we finished our phone conversation I lay down to pray myself to sleep, and felt a mild sadness come over me as I
contemplated my behavior toward my wife. It was not a deeply unusual sadness, yet I felt it was a new and wholesome thing in me and I began to work with it in my spirit, cooperating with it and meditating on thoughts to promote
this mild sadness in my soul. It was not long before the sadness deepened in me and I was moved to sleeplessness for well over an hour. Quiet tears flowed freely as I thought about the reaction of my wife and the painful look on
her face when I had finally and unexpectedly exploded at her during our last big fight in mid-May. I felt that God was at work, but that somehow it was all still so soulish and contrived that I could not rest in any permanent work
of repentance in me (years later, I understand why). Even so, in my ignorance, my willingness to yield to Him beyond my own understanding was the occasion for God to work something profound in me. About midnight I
felt compelled to rise and spend the remainder of the night in prayer, hoping that God Himself would do a real work of repentance in me. I rose, dressed, and left the house to take a walk with the Lord. Concerned about my safety at
midnight afoot in south Denver, I went for a drive with Him instead. He seemed to lead me to return the scene where I had physically chastened my wife a year and a half earlier. It was a story of tremendous social embarrassment to
me and it became the focus of my search for a deeper sense of my own sin. I went to re-live it before the Lord in seeking the Lord's deep work of repentance. I re-lived the experience as well as I was able to,
returning to the very spot it had happened, retraced our journey back to the house, and drove quietly by the darkened windows of our home. I moved on though the neighborhood, remembering the ugly violence of the event in all of its
detail. Somehow, I was able to sidestep the context of what she had done to provoke me and really focus on how I myself had acted. There was a sorrow, but still not a brokenness. I went to my office to take a long,
prayerful walk in a safe neighborhood. By about 1:30 a.m. I began to feel hopelessly tired and began to think about my responsibilities for the next day. I wanted to stay up all night and pray, somehow perhaps to earn this gift of
repentance from my Father by some sort of self-inflicted sleeplessness, but I knew it was no use. I went to my office and fell asleep on the floor, setting an alarm to wake me in time for a 6 a.m. prayer meeting the following
Tuesday morning. I awoke at 5:30 with my alarm, my heart still heavily longing for a work of God in my soul. I knew this was not something that I would be able to produce in myself and I was not sure my Father was
willing to give it to me. Even if He did, I thought, it would make no difference to my wife. I sensed that she was using this scheme as a cover for less acceptable reasons for ending our marriage, and that she would not be
interested in any repentance on my part. It was only a matter of mechanical obedience to Him, but it was right—I knew it was right—and I wanted it. I arrived at the prayer meeting with a feeling of vulnerability
and shame ... my friend would be there and I felt he thought I was in sin. I also sensed that I was, but not of a willful, arrogant sort… I was beginning to taste my sin on a new level. I entered and sat down,
unable to shake the melancholy—wanting to at first, but then accepting it and resigning myself to it. I sat quietly, while the others talked and joked, as we waited for the rest of the saints to arrive. My friend was not there at
first but arrived shortly after I did. His presence troubled me as we greeted. I kept my head down much of the time, not wanting to look at my brothers and sisters, and wished that we would just begin praying. They left me alone
pretty much, except for one question about my continued interest in coming to the prayer meetings (I could no longer attend church and remain at peace with my wife, who was seeking to turn them against me), which I answered
affirmatively but with some obvious hesitancy. My soul was grieved and they could sense it. They all knew about the separation, about the accusations, but I had been normally quite cheerful, thankful, and positive through it
all—not troubled like this. I was relieved when we began to pray and I followed along in my spirit, though I did not feel much like praying aloud. I thought I would be functional in the meeting even though I felt
burdened and sad. Seconds after the first prayer began, however, a more powerful sense of sadness came over me. The pain of my broken marriage and of all of the humiliation of having my struggle and sin revealed in public began to
touch me deeply. This surprised me, but the sadness was manageable and I felt it was healthy somehow. There were no words or past events particularly connected with the emotion; it was a pure, disconnected sort of sadness and I
felt like releasing myself to it and going along with it for a while as I focused on the prayers of the others. Perhaps a minute or two passed and the sorrow became more intense. I became unable to follow along in
prayer and began to focus on the wrongs that I had committed against my wife, the lack of dignity and self-control, on the pain of my loneliness, and on the apparent hopelessness of our separation. The sadness quickly overwhelmed
my spirit and I began to weep quietly in my seat. It was easy to control my body -- I was not making any noise so I felt no one would notice. With the sadness there was a quiet stillness in my soul before my God and I could not
speak to Him: I just sat in His presence and hurt, looking for His face and longing for His touch. The sadness continued to deepen and it moved me to the point where I began to breathe in a labored, heavy sobbing.
My sinuses began to fill and drain and my body began to shake. The sorrow came in waves and I would tense every muscle to keep control of my body as the sadness peaked in me. Doubtless, everyone in the room was aware of my pain at
this point, and several began to pray out loud for me and for my wife. The waves of sorrow would come and go almost rhythmically as I would alternate between focusing on my sin toward my wife and feeling startled at the depth of my
sorrow. I was so taken by this turn in my soul that I was beyond embarrassment. The sorrow was so deep, pure and full that it occupied all of my awareness when it peaked in its rhythm. This rhythmic, powerful
sadness continued for the rest of the prayer meeting (perhaps 20 to 30 minutes), with each wave of sadness apparently getting stronger and deeper—like labor contractions in the process of childbirth. I very nearly got up and left
the room several times during the time of prayer as I felt that I would be unable to keep from groaning out loud and I did not want to disturb the others any more than I already was. I was just barely able to keep a lid on it. My
whole body was shaking at times, my face buried tightly either in my arms or in my hands, sometimes rocking up and down in my chair to try to disperse the pain. Finally, the others finished praying and began to
chatter quietly. I felt like I was just beginning in my time before the Lord and I had no intention of leaving. I could not move or speak: I kept my face buried in my arms on the table, continued in a quiet weeping, and waited to
see what would happen next. I felt a strong hug about my head and arms from one of the brothers as he asked me what was going on. I said, quietly sobbing, "I don't know."
"Do you want to join us for breakfast?", he inquired (as was our usual custom after prayer meeting). I responded, choked with emotion, "I can't." He asked again, "Will you be all right?" I said simply, "I don't know." I really didn't know. He gave me a big squeeze and backed away. The others began to leave and soon the room was quiet. I heard their voices moving down the hall and out
toward the front door of the building. The sorrow continued relentlessly and I struggled to manage it, considering that I might be able to compose myself enough to join the group at our customary restaurant when I finished praying.
As soon as the building emptied I found I could no longer control the longing to groan out loud before the Lord. I began to moan and groan; the sadness and grief and pain were startling and overwhelming. I began to
feel worse and worse about my sin against my wife and I could see plainly that it was sin against the Lord as well, in fact I began to see that all my sin was primarily
against Him. The intensity of the sorrow continued to increase until I literally had to cry out at the top of my lungs in order to accommodate it. I began to sweat profusely, gripping my chair madly and tossing about in it. I could see my sin in all of its blackness and it was breaking me.
The sorrow was a clean sorrow, a healthy sorrow, a godly sorrow. I knew it was from the Lord and that His presence was very real in me and about me. I would have seemed to an observer completely insane, I suppose,
but my mind was alert, sharp and clear. Had anyone approached and asked me if I was OK, I would have nodded a hearty, "Yes!". I was not grieving about the consequences of my sin, I was grieving over the very sin itself: sin against
my wife, sin against my Father. For the first time in my life, I could see sin as a distinct entity in me. I could sense the flesh, the old man, as a detestable thing before the Lord. I felt no kinship to it, no
acceptance of it, no toleration of it, no room for it. I could not escape the sin within me and I became violently and passionately loathsome of it. It was so absolutely intolerable to be attached to it in me that all I could do
was scream, yet there was a wholesomeness about the whole experience that made me want to experience more. This continued for the better part of an hour, I suppose, with no relief whatever. Finally, it seemed as if
the Lord stepped back and asked me if I had had enough. I boldly protested His retreat from me and demanded that He give me more and work it more deeply in me. I had much more physical strength left and was reminded of David
weeping until he had no more power to weep. I wanted this. The sorrow came again as a second season began in me, but this time there was a sharpness to it that I simply cannot describe. I could feel God's hatred for
sin in a way that deeply startled and awed me. I sensed at once that I might easily break or snap mentally, becoming insane under the weight of this hatred, and begged for His divine protection of my mind and spirit. Yet, I wanted
more. This He did: He covered my spirit somehow and began to pour out in me His hatred of sin. My whole being—my body, soul, and spirit—began to writhe in an utter abhorrence of my sinful self and all that is sin.
It was all I could do to remain seated. I was yelling with all of my strength and sweating profusely. Tears literally poured out of me, coursing down my face and neck. I reeled under the awesome weight of it in a way that I simply
cannot describe. Waves of liquid sorrow flowed over and through me in an utter hatred of the sin within and about me. At one point I remembered the testimony of Norman Grubb, which I had previously received with
much delight, that he gave when asked if he ever thought about himself much. As I was told, his response was that from time to time he would consider himself, laugh lightly for a moment, and then go back to thinking about the Lord.
Now, however, this thought deeply appalled me. For the life of me, I could not imagine how anyone could take their sin so lightly that they could do anything but weep desperately over it, much less chuckle and laugh. The thought
moved me repeatedly to a desperate wailing before my Father. Sin is so ugly, so devastating, so... so vile, so abominable, so loathsome, so sick. It was my sin, it was your sin, it was everyone's sin, it is all so
detestable. No place in the universe could be found to put it, no place far enough away, no place to hide it or cover it up. I felt bad and broken that God had to put up with me, interact with me, tolerate the presence of sin in me
or in anyone else. I felt so badly for Him… I groaned for Him. He is so beautiful, so pure, He ought not to have to endure this—to be grieved like this in His dealings with me, with us. God's pain in tolerating the presence of sin
in His universe, especially in His bride, was overwhelming to me. When those who had left for breakfast began to return about 8:30 or 9:00, I was again startled. I thought for sure that the presence of others in the
building would quench my spirit and that I would be embarrassed to continue on before the Lord in all this wailing, yelling, and groaning. The opposite, however, occurred. When I heard the door squeak and someone
enter the building, I was immediately moved by the presence of more sin nearby. To be aware of the physical presence of another sinner in my vicinity was absolutely unacceptable and intolerable. I did not want to accept the
presence of sin in me or in anyone else. I did not want to nurse it, tolerate it, deal with it, interact with it, or let it live. I would contemplate my own sinfulness before Him and I would be moved to a screaming
yell under the weight of it. I would also contemplate the sin principle in the church, and it seemed to move me just as deeply and strongly. I sensed from within that what I felt was the Holy Spirit's grief toward sin, or some
small measure of His grief. It was as if He were groaning and grieving through me, as if I were His body, His flesh, His bones—as if He were one and the same with my spirit. I continued to yell, to cry out to God, and to call out
to Him in this manner for about another hour, near as I can tell. Then my physical strength began to fade, and the screaming faded again into groans. At this point I was hoarse, damp from sweat and tears, and very
hot. I finally noticed that my arms and legs were numb and I became concerned for my physical well-being. Amid my groaning, I tried to rise from my chair to let some circulation into my legs but I could not stand. I propped myself
up with both arms on a table near my chair and then laid my torso across it for a minute or two. This did not help, so I felt behind me for a couch against the wall, my eyes remaining closed as I continued to groan, cry, and yell
weakly before the Lord. I felt that I had but little strength left to cry as my body was beginning to fatigue severely, but the emotional intensity remained in my soul and spirit. I collapsed on the couch behind me and continued to
cry out to my Father in a deep, lively pain. I began to speak with Him, finally, asking Him how He managed to put up with us sinners and yet to love us so. I could not put the two ideas together in my mind at all,
and was completely stunned by His ability to do this. He then gently reminded me that He not only loves me, but that He became sin for me! I cannot tell you fully what this did in me. My whole body jerked
and stiffened at the realization of it as my back arched and a long, loud cry gushed out of me. I literally thought that I was going to die and I did not care. How could GOD ever do such a thing as to become
this... this detestable, violently twisted, perverted, gruesome, hideous, grotesque, abominable...! Oh! I cannot express to you how this tortured and turned like a knife in my soul! I reeled under its relentless cataclysmic
significance. How could Jesus Christ, this pure, majestic, awesome and infinitely holy Being, ever become ... SIN! How could He take this into His bosom and internalize it as His very essence for even a moment? The
ripping, shattering, and disarraying of my soul was indescribable. I finally became afraid for my sanity and began to hesitate momentarily in my desire for more revelation. I was stunned, undone and speechless. I began to
understand the context and impact of, "My God! My God! Why hast thou forsaken me?" I could feel it in the darkest and most hidden places of my being -- I was completely filled with it. I had had enough: I sincerely
asked God to kill me. I could not live any more with such intimate knowledge and keen awareness of my sin and what it had done to my beloved Christ Jesus -- what He became because of me. I knew that He would either have to kill me,
or He would have to release me from this stunning perception to my dullness again. I would never be able to function normally as long as I was aware of my sin with this type of intensity. Yet, I preferred death to callousness
toward the true nature of my sin again; I requested death sincerely before Him. I knew He would eventually deliver me from the presence of sin, and I felt that this was as good a time as ever: there could be no better way to die. I also realized that when God touches a man, the poor little guy smokes. I was being consumed before God by His gentle, simple revelations to me. We are so fragile, so pitiful, so senseless, so wretched, so
miserable, so poor, so blind, so naked before Him! All of our pomp and pride and vanity and conceit is such nonsense! Such utter nonsense! Surely every man walks in a vain show. We are altogether vanity; in our best state we are
less than emptiness and vanity. None of us has any righteousness of our own before Him, nothing to boast of, nothing to be proud of, nothing to hide behind, no excuses to present, no alibis, no context to justify or ameliorate the
depth and blackness of our sin! We are all as an unclean thing, and all our "righteousnesses" are as filthy, detestably filthy rags. Death seemed like an appropriate closure for me and my pitiful life right then.
Finally, I found no more strength to cry; God did not seem interested in taking me home just yet, and so I began, somehow, to laugh. Intense emotions still ran fervently through my body but the sorrow had blended with a bittersweet
joy. I laughed and reveled in the awesome purity of our God, and in His incredible ability to tolerate the presence of sin in His creation as He has through these ages. I laughed in utter scorn at the absurdity of sin, at the
deception of it, at its irrationality, at its unreasonableness. I finally had to laugh at myself in scorn. It seemed so ludicrous that I, such a sinner, could ever be proud, self-righteous, arrogant, think myself strong, demand any
supposed rights, or complain in my aloneness because I felt chained to some sort of sex drive. Disgusted, I turned my thoughts again to the comfort of my Father's presence in me, thanking Him for His work in me, His toleration of
me, His indescribable love for me, and began enjoying an exhilarating cleanness of spirit in Him that I had never known before. I began to love Him, to caress Him in my spirit, to worship and magnify Him, to warmly
rejoice in His love for me. We were one and we would always be one. I was safe, secure, lovingly scourged into a broken wholeness, and planted squarely and eternally in the bosom of my Father. I began to relax
deeply and to feel my soul move strangely and restlessly in my bosom, as if I were about to sleep in death. This instinctively alarmed me at first and I tried to sit up, but I could not. I did not fear death, and I had
asked for it just moments before, but somehow when I was face to face with it, I could not just lie there and let it take me. The keenness of the revelation had already begun to dissipate to the point that I could function mentally again and I began sincerely to struggle to recover myself and to regain my strength. Soon I felt safe again in my vitals, beyond the sleep of death, and released myself to a quiet, wakeful stillness in the Lord.
The pain and sorrow had been displaced by worship. A gentle, peaceful rest had come over me and I lay completely motionless and quiet for some time more. My mouth was completely parched, I felt feverish, aching,
and weak. After feeling some little physical strength restored, I tossed and turned periodically to further revive myself. Finally, I was able to sit up enough to get my watch and glasses (which I had obviously removed at some
point, but I could not remember when). It was 10:30 a.m. or so, as best I remember. After feeling somewhat more of my strength return, I rose, got something to eat, and drove to my lodging to take a nap. I feel God's calling to share this with you in order to encourage you to ask Him to show you your
own sin. It is bigger, blacker, and more hideous than you can ever imagine in your own strength. You simply cannot function when He opens your eyes to see yourself in all of your sinful depravity.
Once you see it, you will not take sin lightly again. I do not know if I really saw my sin in all of its fullness or not. I do suppose that it would probably have literally killed me if I had. I saw enough of
it to change me. I want this for others as well. We ought not to take sin lightly. We ought not to justify it with any context or excuses that would try
to make it seem less than it really is. When I feel tempted or provoked to sin, it only becomes apparent that sin has been in me and part of me all along. That does not make my sin any more tolerable or any less grievous. There is no context for sin, there is no excuse for it, there is no way to make it pretty, there is no way to take the ugliness out of it: it is ugliness.
I am forgiven; I have known this for a long time. Yet I had no idea that I had been forgiven of so much! In Jesus Christ I feel whole and pure before my heavenly Father. Continue to work in me,
Father, and to reveal Your lovely Self to me. I have so much more to learn from You and in You... in You — what an awesome privilege to be in You, for You to accept me into Your own holy
Being as a very part of Yourself! Oh! You are so incredibly awesome! I can see now how far I have fallen; I want to see how far I
have been raised in Christ—how much I am loved by You. Those who see more accurately how much they have been forgiven, the same love You and others more deeply, earnestly and intensely. I
hear that when You reveal Your love to a man, that revelation can bring a soul near death too. Our little frames of dust and clay cannot bear the full weight of Your love any more than they can bear
the weight of their own sin. I want this as well, Abba ...Papa. I want to see your love as I have seen my sin; I want them both—side by side.
The spirit of revival begins with a spirit of prayerful repentance. It is my desire to continue with the Lord in similar experiences of brokenness over my own sin, and over the sin in His church, and to
see Him bring more of His children to an entrance into this marvelous and mysterious grace: godly sorrow over sin working repentance in us to the glory of our loving, sinless, holy God. |
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