Kansas Tent Revival – 1964
When Lisa was twenty-three, a longtime girlfriend from high school, Maribel, invited her to a Pentecostal tent revival. Maribel excitedly told her that the visiting preacher from Australia was anointed with the spiritual gifts of healing and prophecy. Lisa’s church upbringing did not accept that the nine spiritual gifts described in the Bible are present among Christians in present times even as they were in apostolic times two centuries ago. Intrigued by these claims made by Maribel, she accepted the invitation, although with skepticism.
Maribel and Lisa arrived late at the revival due to an exasperating delay of a flat tire they changed themselves, or rather, Lisa did. Praise and worship had been in full swing for over an hour, and they viewed the tent crowd with arms raised in surrender and praise and some speaking in a language unknown to them.
A dramatic contrast in expression was seen between the two, Maribel anticipating and expecting, Lisa wondering what the heck was going on. The air felt heavy as they entered the tent although the sides were rolled up and a slight breeze floated within. A rotund man wearing a white shirt and red suspenders walked on stage and waved his Bible in the air and with a booming voice declared, “Hallelu-YAH! Jehovah-Rapha! Pour out Your Spirit on all of us! Reveal your healing power!” The crowd, now at a peak of spiritual passion, appeared to feel a weightiness that descended with peace and comfort that quieted them. He paced the stage to the lectern and adjusted the microphone. The people waited with anticipation. He raised his arms and cried out heavenward, “You are present among us Almighty God. Your Spirit has filled this tent, and we wait with faith and expectation for what You will do among Your people. For You declared through Your prophet Jeremiah— They shall be my people, and I will be there God . . . And I will make an everlasting covenant with them, that I will not turn away from doing them good . . . For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.” He lowered his arms and said, “You may be seated.”
Lisa followed Maribel to a couple of seats in the back row at the center aisle.
“God uses miracles to draw His people to Him,” the preacher announced. “God did it when Elijah believed and called down fire from heaven. Jesus did it when the woman of faith touched his robe and believed she would be healed from her bleeding disorder. Jesus told the Centurion, Go! Let it be done just as you believe that your servant will be healed.” The traveling preacher portrayed all this in a thick Aussie accent to the Kansas crowd, ranchers from the opposite side of the world.
Several in the front row exclaimed, “Hallelu-YAH! Praise God!”
The preacher peered out to the sea of faces with eyes full of expectancy. Lisa shuffled in her seat. She still had streaks of black grease on her hands from changing the tire.
“Who wants to be healed and believes that God will do it?” he asked the crowd, many so attentive that they were on the edge of their seats.
A hand shot up from the back. “I do.” The small voice of a child caught Lisa’s attention, craning for a look to see who it was. A young girl stood—possibly ten—her head just brimming over those seated.
“My, my . . . the faith of a child.” Then the preacher called the little child to him, “Come.” He held out his arms as she slowly made her way down the center aisle to the front. The portly preacher bent down, his shirt stretching the buttons to near popping and plopped on the edge of the stage. He lifted her frail frame to sit next to him. He scanned the congregation and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
A murmur floated through the crowd. Lisa leaned to Maribel. “Who is she?”
“That’s Josie’s little girl— ”
“What’s your name?” the preacher asked.
The little girl appeared frightened and took in short gasps of air.
Her mom stood and quickly made her way down the aisle and fumbled in the purse slung over her shoulder. “Sarah, you need your inhaler.” Sarah strained to breathe with sharp wheezing. The crowd hushed with widened eyes. “I know I brought it,” her mom’s voice trembled. She continued to grope in her purse, and then out of desperation dumped the contents on the stage. A canister of lipstick rolled, coins clattered, and several used tissues floated out. Sarah’s face was pale and her arms began to shake. The preacher stretched his short legs off the stage and stood in front of her, taking her hands in his and said, “Sarah, do you believe that God will breath fresh air into your lungs?”
Sarah nodded.
“All it takes is the faith of a mustard seed—that is the tiniest seed that God created—but have no doubt.”
Sarah nodded again. Mouth wide-open. Shrill wheezing. Crowd murmuring. Someone yelled, “Do something!” She pulled her hands from his and crossed them on her chest. Eyes round as a doe.
“In the name of Jesus!” The preacher placed both of his hands around the base of her head. “I bind the spirit of death and cast it and this infirmity into the fiery pit. Loose her, Satan! In the name of Jesus, be gone!”
The girl collapsed in his arms.
“Jehovah-Rapha, fill this child of God with Your breath of life.”
The preacher gently laid her on the stage.
“Sarah!” her mom cried out, holding her hands to her mouth.
A woman from the front stood and raised her hands to heaven and cried out in a language known to no one but God. Several knelt and prayed. Others stretched out their hands and murmured prayers. Lisa, on the edge of her seat, grabbed Maribel’s hand and squeezed. Maribel stood and started singing. More people popped up and cried out to God. The preacher watched Sarah with promise.
A breath rushed in and filled Sarah’s chest.
† † †
Sarah sat on the edge of the stage and looked out upon the congregation. They were seated now. Their exaltations and praise were heard from the country road. A car slowed, the driver gawked at the celebration within the tent. The wind picked up and blew the cool dew from the Kansas tall grass. All was well.
As the rotund preacher man stood in front of Sarah, she inhaled deeply from her nose and then exhaled through pursed lips.
“Ahhhhh, it never felt so good to have a child blow me a kiss.” He laughed with joy. “Praise the LORD for He is good, his love endures forever!”
The girl took another deep breath filling her lungs and exhaled completely. Sarah was apparently breathing well if not optimally.
“Take a victory lap, Sarah. God has healed you. Run back to your seat and run back up here.” Elated, Sarah jumped off the edge of the stage and ran freely, like a child at play around the congregation. They clapped and cheered. God is good . . . all the time.
When Sarah returned to the front, the preacher put his arm around her. Mom did the same. Mom’s expression was one of elation. Fear was gone. It would not come back. God proved that what He said, He would do.
“God proved His power to heal and overcome an attack of the enemy,” the preacher proclaimed as he held up his arms in praise to God amidst the “Hallelu-YAH” from the crowd. Then, as if something distracted his thoughts, he looked down and then to the back of the tent. The crowd quieted.
“There is someone here who has not yet born a child, yet has birthed a stillborn baby six times.”
Lisa jolted in her seat.
She had been trying to rub the dirt and grease from her hands with a tissue. When she looked up, the preacher’s eyes were on her.
“Is that you?”
The crowd murmured, the weight of grief of not one child, but . . . six times a stillborn.
“As I was praying over this assembly, this assembly of faith, God showed me two women coming in the tent as I walked on the stage. He showed me two empty seats in the back row at the center aisle.” He looked intently at Lisa. “Is that you?”
She nodded; transfixed on the words he spoke.
“Only if you believe . . . even if only with faith as tiny as a mustard seed . . . but no doubt . . . If you believe that God will birth to you a living child . . . no, not one . . . God is showing me two . . . If you believe . . . ” He reached back on the stage to the lectern where a glass of water rested. He took a drink of refreshment. The crowd remained respectfully quiet.
“It’s me.” Lisa surprised herself with the mouse-like peep of her response.
“Then believe and receive what God has promised you.”
† † †
Reference: Jeremiah 29:11-13; 32:38-40, Matthew 18:2-4
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Copyright 2017 © Jeff Cambridge
Excerpt from PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff
Cambridge, a writer of transformational fiction with real characters in
real-life tell stories that change lives in the readers as the characters
transform.
This is a pre-published
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“PURSUIT: A
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