learning to breathe

In March 2006, I attended the Midwest District Conference of the Missionary Church. Yes, it was as exciting as it sounds. As a potential church planter, the district wanted to lend a face to (i.e. show off) their plans for expansion in the urban cities of the United States, therefore I was given the privilege of awkwardly standing on stage without the opportunity to speak for myself.

However, a local elder approached me after the show to prophesy with a passage of scripture. Psalm 18 is not what you would call a "happy" song, but it is one of victory. As the Lord came through for David during Saul's pursuit, David wrote about what can best be described as the terror of the Lord. The Lord's attributes are compared to an earthquake, a hailstorm, lightning arrows, and the fiery breath of a dragon. In David's despair, God revealed Himself with authority and power.

Having grown under the care of the institutional church, this was frightening to me. My theology spoke of the Lord's authority, but this is not the making of a pleasant Sunday morning sermon. In contemplating this prophecy, I spent more time debating the reason for this battle than the power of the Lord. People liked me. Under what conditions could I possibly fall victim to enemies?

Five years later, on the other side of rejection, accusation, gossip, and outright lies from former colleagues, I revisit this psalm. I feel stuck: I'm restless, I'm jealous for righteousness, and unseen hopes lie at the edge of destruction. Lacking vision and direction, I turn to the Lord for help -- He has brought me to this place, and only He can lead me from it:

He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.

The Lord has dealt with me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands he has rewarded me. For I have kept the ways of the Lord; I have not done evil by turning from my God. All his laws are before me; I have not turned away from his decrees. I have been blameless before him and have kept myself from sin. The Lord has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in his sight.

To the faithful you show yourself faithful, to the blameless you show yourself blameless, to the pure you show yourself pure, but to the crooked you show yourself shrewd. You save the humble but bring low those whose eyes are haughty. You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light. With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall. (Psalm 18:16-29, emphasis added)

False humility creeps in entirely too easy. What presents itself as a recurrent theme of lowering myself, is in reality a self-deprecating stronghold. If I believe that I stand condemned because of past sin, I disqualify myself from claiming the righteousness in which I live. The Holy Spirit has done such an incredible work that my appetite for sin is being removed day by day, and Satan's temptations are being seen as the hollow comfort that they are. David wasn't boasting when he approached the Lord in purity and righteousness -- he was being honest with his heart.

Growing up in the aftermath of the holiness tradition, I have been led to believe that I should pursue righteousness, but that no man may attain it. Certainly in my own flesh this is true -- it is by grace and the blood of Christ that I share these words today. But David stands firm in his keeping of the truth, and I think God would have me desire that. He longs for me to see the "cleanness of my hands in his sight." Despite my family and ministerial history, I can have faith in a grace-filled mystery: that the God of the Universe delights in me.

Without this relationship established, I have no vision or direction. I have no joy in a spiritual gift of leadership. I cannot stand in wonder of the dragonish, terrorizing power of God that avenges my enemies' attacks upon me.

This past weekend, some of my St. Louis family came to encourage me in my lonely place. They asked me to re-explore my passions and stand firm in the Spirit's stirrings upon my heart. As I reminisced, I found that my writings have carried three predominant themes:

• The pursuit of consecration in becoming a useful vessel: to teach others the difference between the holy and the profane.
• The re-establishment of relationships between young and old, men and women: to restore physical families and the spiritual mystery of His Bride.
• Calling the discontent out of fruitless works: to send the willing into Spirit-led and God-honoring ministries that advance His Kingdom.

I long to see God's children free from the pain that binds them. I want to see man sacrificing himself for the fullness of God. I ask for the protection of women and children, and for fathers that love selflessly and without condition. I plead for the restoration of His Church. I hope to experience the blessing of physical and spiritual birth. Wrapping this into one Anthony-encompassing statement...

God has called me to remove the veil between the broken and His Spirit, to restore His Church through the reformation of holy relationships.

This is the vision for which I live. Every act or deed must flow from this desire. He sees me fit for service, and He has equipped me with every spiritual weapon necessary to accomplish His work. His first task is already upon me, and I can trust in faith that His Spirit will guide and protect me.