Well, it happened. I’m officially a freak. A Jesus Freak to be specific.
And I’ll own it. I’m proud of it. My natural draw to the 60’s and 70’s sings as I think about how the original Jesus Freaks must have felt named as countercultural and often times misunderstood but completely in love with God. It’s beautiful.
It’s who I want to be. Unaffected by what the world says or thinks, I want to look at what Jesus says and thinks.
As I’m writing this, I’m giggling thinking about how what’s about to follow will literally make some of my friends raise their eyebrows. I can imagine them saying, “Whoa, Lindsey has really gotten weird.”
Bring it on. I welcome it.
Here’s the thing that I’ve discovered. The secret, if you will. If you’re a Christian, you have a choice. You can believe in Jesus, attend a church, pray and lead your family to the moral values of the bible, etc. And that’s good! It’s holy and lovely.
And totally safe.
And you’ll live your life under the covering of God and all will be well in the end.
And many stop right there.
Ooooooo baby, there’s a whole other world out there if you want it.
When I chose to follow Jesus, I pretty much jumped. For me, it wasn’t a slow incline; I hurried to the top. I wanted the whole view. If I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it full on and I didn’t want to be cheated of any part of the experience. Heck no, I’d lived a third of my life without Him already. I wasn’t missing out on anything else. I had tasted and seen that He is it. He’s the one.
I didn’t even take time to realize that I could have a safe Christian life because I was so curious, so motivated, so changed by the story of Jesus Christ, I had to keep moving, digging, figuring it out. I was thirsty and somehow I knew, the adventurous life of following Jesus was the only thing that would quench my thirst.
I got to know people who were experiencing miracles in the here and now. I listened to missionaries stories of healings and demonic deliverances and life change. I watched people be provided for physically and financially. I knew there was more.
And all the things that get talked about like myths or actions crazy Christians do became interesting to me so I picked up my bible and started seeking truth for myself. Is tongues a made up magic trick or are people still doing this? Can we actually pray to make the deaf hear and the blind see? And what about this whole baptism of the Holy Spirit thing?
In a world where people are HUNGRY for the supernatural, obsessed with fantasy movies and books, seeking after ghost stories and super heroes and something that reaches them into the unknown, Jesus Christ is out here saying “I created that fascination for a reason you guys! Come follow me and watch the supernatural alive and active!”
After two mission trips to Africa, and a quick 2020 World Race experience I was open to all the gifts of the spirit. I was already a good 80% freak I’d say.
But that was before I opened up my hands fully.
During our training here in Guatemala, we get trained to battle in the kingdom of God. This is no Sunday school lesson, my friends. We are calling off demons on each other, practicing the gifts and getting baptized in the spirit. We are taking everything Jesus has offered us just like the disciples did. No holding back. We want more of Him.
And more I would get.
A couple of weeks ago, our whole squad chose to get baptized in the spirit. Check out Acts if this sounds wacky to you but essentially the bible teaches that baptism isn’t a one-time gig. The water is a representation of being cleansed, washed and rededicating your body, spirit and soul to Jesus.
Of course I’m jumping in on that.
I woke up with anticipation for the day ahead. Thirty one people were about to say “Yes, I want more,” and I wanted in on that spiritual fire. I wanted to soak up all it had to offer. I wanted to free people from sin and shame and I wanted to chip off some layers of my own. I wanted an infilling of the Holy Spirit. I wanted in that water.
I smile when I think about it because we ended up actually taking our squad back to our host home and using the giant bath tub that was in the room I lived in for six weeks. Unknowingly, through our worship and prayer and the three am battles I had in that room with the enemy – our team had primed the place for what was about to occur.
I also laugh thinking about how we planned for the baptisms to take about three hours and they actually took seven.
It was wild.
It looked like people getting dunked by our squad leaders sometimes more than once. Sometimes there were manifestations, sometimes there were physical reactions, often times there were tears. People were crowded in the bathroom prophesying over the people in the water and praying for them.
And I was the freak in the room for seven hours straight praying in tongues, calling off demons and getting hot hands. Dang, it’s cool to walk with the spirit.
I’m watching people get freed from sexual abuse, addictions and co-dependence. I’m watching people give up control to the Holy Spirit, leak off years of legalism and walk into freedoms they have yet to even realize. I’m yielding to the Holy Spirit fully letting him speak through my mouth in a language no ones ever heard before. I’m getting visions. I’m getting words for people. I’m knowing things I could never know on my own.
Sometimes I get in the water with them, my teammates, my closest friends, etc. I want a piece of that healing. I want a scar in the fight. I’m out for the spread of the kingdom of God and I’m willing to work for it.
As it got late into the night I felt God say “You’ll be last.” Our squad leaders were tired, I knew it. And I honestly didn’t expect anything phenomenal to happen to me while in the water because I wasn’t walking in with anything major. Or so I thought.
I was the last one in. Looking up at Ari’s face, she and Steph (our squad mentor) held my hands as they began to pray over me. I was surrounded by some of my closest friends, rubbing my back, standing in agreement, tired, but expectant for the spirit to come.
I softly prayed, Holy Spirit, I want more.
And then it came.
A rumble through my body. A tremble. A shaking. It was strong and out of control but didn’t feel scary or dark. My body was yielding and I knew it.
Ari and Steph felt it too and the room quieted as if we were hushed waiting for the still small voice to speak.
Ari and Steph kept saying “Whoa.” The presence was palpable.
I kept shaking.
Something was happening.
It’s hard to remember everything I was thinking and feeling and people were saying. I remember that the room was quieter than it had ever been before. We weren’t battling, we were waiting.
I shook violently the entire time as if a fire hose was infilling me with a supernatural substance I couldn’t name.
They dunked me.
I shook harder.
It was prophesied that I had to let go, unclench my fists, I didn’t have to hold the emotions of everything around me. It wasn’t mine.
“Give up control, Lindsey.”
Ari told them to dunk me again.
“Alright, so the Lord wants me under the water again? ok”
I shook harder.
At one point, Ari got in the tub with me, held me and helped me breath. We both knew it was a takeover and that was when I let the tears fall and relaxed my shoulders and felt the presence of warmth wash over me.
He was here. This was special.
There were a few other words prophesied. I remember something about being a teacher and entering into a space of learning. I remember thinking the Lord was taking me to new levels. I remember knowing my experience in the tub was going to change everything.
As I stepped out, I swayed off balance and my friends caught my tip. We laughed. Someone said “She’s drunk in the spirit.” I said “I feel like a noodle.”
And noodle girl Jesus freak was born.
That drunk feeling would last into the next morning, a “holy spirit hangover” of sorts. Every time I would worship I’d get noodle knees. My friend Jerome had to escort me to the communion plate that morning. What a thing to experience.
I’m actually still processing what happened in the tub, what God is asking of me next and what other sacrifices and sanctification are coming. I’m walking closely with mentors and prayer warriors and I’m fine-tuning my battle weapons for the work we are doing here in Central and South America.
I’m a freak. I do freaky things. The Spirit moves in and through me. I’m a part of the Kingdom of God.
I’m laying down my pride, the way I look, the way people see me, the way I talk, the way I live, all the comforts of the lullaby of materialism, and every piece of the world that has painted a layer of lie on my body, spirit, and mind.
I am a temple of the Holy Spirit and most high God. My life is a living sacrifice to the one who made me.
And in this strange revelation, this odd twist and turn of my life and this open handed invitation to make me even freakier day by day, I am being made whole and being transformed into the likeness of my maker.
And in this, I have found the peace and fulfillment and calm and love that the earth is desperately searching for in everything but Him.
Come Lord Jesus. Until then, bring on the freakiness.
