Floored. Washed over with a flood of Holy Ghost power. That's where five o'clock on a Wednesday evening finds me after stumbling upon a treasure trove of Keith Green material on YouTube.
Keith Green poked his way into my life when I was around twelve years of age. I had asked Christ into my heart at four. I remember doing it. But when I was in those tender, who-am-I years, I remember Christian music was a big deal. I am a words person. I love lyrics. Keith's songs told whole Bible stories and, while I am sure they were too long for some people, I hung on every syllable. Sitting here on my beige couch in a suburb of Nashville, Tennessee some thirty years later, I found tears gathering as I watched Keith address a huge crowd mobbed together in the 1982 California sunshine.
Though I had many years and a whole heapin' helpin' of life experiences ahead of me, Keith's take-no-prisoners, straight-ahead approach rang every bell in my spirit. I was already a radical. I was already with Keith in spirit, though I had a lot of maturing yet to do.
Over the years my radicalism softened. It melted under the heat of tough circumstances. It withered under the weight of other people's doubts. I let their unbelief crush my wide-eyed belief. I let the world, the flesh and the devil run straight off with my sold-out sincerity. With my radical love for Jesus Christ went my joy. With my joy went my strength.
Not too long ago I blogged that God had shown me that he would not be taking my temper as he does not do a-la-carte sin removal. He is after ALL of me. Today, I feel as if "Part Two" of that lesson has been driven home. When I give ALL to Him in sold-out, excited, championship game and I'm on the winning team joy, He gives me an overwhelming sense of His presence, His power, His love, and HIS P.E.A.C.E.
Keith Green poked his way into my life when I was around twelve years of age. I had asked Christ into my heart at four. I remember doing it. But when I was in those tender, who-am-I years, I remember Christian music was a big deal. I am a words person. I love lyrics. Keith's songs told whole Bible stories and, while I am sure they were too long for some people, I hung on every syllable. Sitting here on my beige couch in a suburb of Nashville, Tennessee some thirty years later, I found tears gathering as I watched Keith address a huge crowd mobbed together in the 1982 California sunshine.
Though I had many years and a whole heapin' helpin' of life experiences ahead of me, Keith's take-no-prisoners, straight-ahead approach rang every bell in my spirit. I was already a radical. I was already with Keith in spirit, though I had a lot of maturing yet to do.
Over the years my radicalism softened. It melted under the heat of tough circumstances. It withered under the weight of other people's doubts. I let their unbelief crush my wide-eyed belief. I let the world, the flesh and the devil run straight off with my sold-out sincerity. With my radical love for Jesus Christ went my joy. With my joy went my strength.
Not too long ago I blogged that God had shown me that he would not be taking my temper as he does not do a-la-carte sin removal. He is after ALL of me. Today, I feel as if "Part Two" of that lesson has been driven home. When I give ALL to Him in sold-out, excited, championship game and I'm on the winning team joy, He gives me an overwhelming sense of His presence, His power, His love, and HIS P.E.A.C.E.
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