A Five Second Blast Of God
By Phil Scovell
Our home was built in 1950 and we purchased it from, not only
the original owner, but he built the house personally. The
kitchen isn't all that large so we have never had a built-in
dishwasher. Over the years, therefore, we have used a portable
unit instead.
Due to the limited space of the kitchen, the dishwasher, when
not in use, is rolled back away from the sink into its corner.
The cutting board surface of the portable dishwasher provides a
perfect place for our microwave to sit. Of course, this means
unplugging the microwave every time we use the dishwasher because
it, the dishwasher, has to be rolled over to the other side of the
kitchen, the hoses hooked to the water faucet, and the electrical
cord plugged in.
I am generally the first person up in the morning and since
my wife works late, she often connects the dishwasher up and
let's it run throughout the night. So, I normally am the one who
disconnects everything and rolls it back into its corner.
When our children were teenagers, they would often discover,
upon attempting to heat something up for a snack, that old dad had
failed to plug in the microwave. My wife was generally the first
to discover this, and after being reminded more than a few times,
I began making certain the microwave, after rolling the
dishwasher back, was connected to the wall socket. Well, most of
the time.
Recently, I awakened early, half stumbled out to the kitchen,
and discovered, by running into it, the dishwasher sitting in
front of the kitchen sink. I had gone to bed before my wife had
gotten off work that night so I was unaware the dishwasher had
been hooked up. Unhooking everything, I rolled the dishwasher
back into its corner, found the plug for the microwave, and as I
was trying to plug it back into the wall socket, I heard my
thoughts say, "I better plug this in or Everett will accuse me of
not doing my part." I laughed to myself and wondered just how I
could think such a thing. After all, our children were grown,
raising their own children now, and plugging in their own
microwaves. Then I emotionally felt the woundedness associated
with this memory surface in my mind.
Twelve years earlier, my son, Everett, who was only 15 years
of age at the time, had made a comment at the dinner table one
night that "Dad never plugs in the microwave." I tried defending
myself because for many months, at that point, I had been plugging
it in all the time; he just was unaware of it. He insisted I
still didn't plug it in; not ever. At the time, I knew something
hurt me inside due to his words but I had no idea, until recently,
it was important to my relationship with the Lord.
As I said, this memory flashed into my sleepy mind as I
fumbled for the microwave cord and the plug on the end of the wire
as I attempted to insert it into the wall socket. This time,
however, I felt the small tiny woundedness that came with the
twelve year old memory.
My thoughts, at speeds faster than light, flashed into
prayer. "Lord, I feel a faint twinge of woundedness. What is
this all about?" I asked within my thoughts.
"How did you feel when Everett said what he did to you?" the
Holy Spirit asked.
I looked into the memory in my mind for a second and
instantly saw it. "I felt like I was being told that I wasn't
doing my part," I told the Lord in my mind.
"And how does that make you feel?" the Lord asked.
"I feel like I am not living up to the standards."
"Whose standards?" I heard the Holy Spirit ask.
I thought for a second and said, "My dads. "But," I quickly
protested, "dad has been dead for almost 45 years. How could I be
trying to live up to his standards? He's dead."
Of course, we can attempt to live up to anybody's standards
regardless of how long they have been dead. In this case, that
awareness illuminated my thoughts at the very moment I said it in
my mind. On the other hand, and just as instantaneously, I knew
the answer; was living up to the Lord's standards. "But Lord," I
protested yet again, "I can't do any better attempting to live up
to your standards than I did my own dad's."
"That's right," he replied in my thoughts. "No one can ever
live up to my standards, so I did it for you on the cross and
proved what I did for you by my resurrection. There is nothing
you can do, therefore, to prove to me that you are living up to my
standards; nothing."
This thought blew me away because I felt the Scriptural
impact and the theological confirmation of these words in my
spirit where the Holy Spirit dwells. I knew this was true
Lordship.
"But," I thought; puzzled, "what do I do then?" already aware
of the answer.
I felt His smile when He said into my thoughts, "Just walk
with me."
Although I thought about this experience for many hours over
several weeks, the entire event, of which you just read, only took
five seconds in my mind. In short, it came by instantaneous
impression; I put the words to what you just read. It was prayer
in its most spiritually intimate form, that is, exchanging our
thoughts for God's.
We are often fooled into thinking, deceived into thinking is
a better way of stating it, that forgiveness, anger, resentment,
animosity, or even the secularistic logic that is, "They deserved
it so why should I forgive them," is justifiable, and the feelings
we carry are acceptable because, after all, "They were wrong and
they hurt me deeply." Then, too, we always fall for that devilish
and demonic lie, "When they are dead, I won't have to worry about
it any longer," only to find out, after they die, the pain is
still deeply rooted. Why? Because, a lie is implanted within the
memory event itself. In my testimony you just read, the Holy
Spirit used a simple, insignificant experience contained within a
memory, to reveal His truth to me; I don't have to live up to
anybody's standards because Jesus is my Elder Brother. I wonder
how many opportunities you are going to allow to slip by which are
points of spiritual intimacy Jesus wants to share with you.
It Sounds Like God To Me.
www.SafePlaceFellowship.com
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