A blood moon for Holy Week

Last night my teen-aged daughter informed me that one of her friends thought the “blood moon” meant that Christ was returning during the dark watch of the night (see Revelation 6:12 to understand what inspired her thinking).

“That would be awesome!” I responded.

“No, she’s scared,” my daughter explained. “She doesn’t want Him to return yet. She wants to get married first.”

I instantly flashed back to college and sitting in a fast food restaurant with some friends. The topic of Christ’s return had come up, and I had sheepishly admitted that I wasn’t in a big hurry for that event, because I did want to get married and have a family.

A good friend of mine across the table looked at me as if I had horns growing out of my head, “Are you kidding?!?” he declared. “Nothing—nothing will be better! I am definitely ready!”

It was nice of him to put me in my place, because I did need to do some thinking and praying about that. After all, anything good on this earth is only an imperfect glimpse of Who God is and what He offers.

Years later, I am absolutely grateful and thrilled about my life (almost J) every day. I do not think I could have a better husband. My children are amazing gifts I do not deserve. I enjoy experiencing life with them each day, anticipating events to come, even imagining holding grandchildren in my arms in a decade or two.

But I know without question that Jesus is better. I am firmly convinced heaven is better. And if Jesus returned this week, well, there would be nothing more ecstatic as far as I’m concerned.

In fact, what a way to celebrate Holy Week: not only contemplating Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, but anticipating His return!

Instead of planning an Easter banquet, we can look forward to the wedding feast of the Lamb (Revelation 19).

Rather than deciding how much chocolate we keep for ourselves versus how much ends up in pastel baskets and plastic eggs, we can smack our lips in anticipation of total, utter completeness in Christ (Philippians 1:6).

Instead of evaluating whether churches “these days” celebrate Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, etc., as well as days gone by, we can examine our priorities, and prayerfully consider whether we’re using our lives in a way worthy of Christ’s imminent return (Psalm 90:12).

If it takes a blood moon to put Easter in perspective, to awaken a longing for heaven, so be it.

 “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus” (Revelation 22:20). 

Breakthrough prayer

The news was sobering. “If their fevers don’t go down, we’ll have to admit them to the hospital tonight,” our program director informed us.

Two of our camp counselors had just returned from the doctor’s office, and they were now being cared for at the nurse’s station. We were concerned for our friends. “Todd especially seems delirious,” our leader told us. “We really need to pray for their healing.”

And that’s what we did.

Thom and I got on our knees by the couch in the program director’s office. We called out to God, we claimed promises from Scripture, we asked God to bring healing to our friends. We were young, zealous, and full of faith. So we wrestled in prayer.

Suddenly there was a strong sense of release. I was flooded with peace. I wasn’t sure whether Thom sensed it too, but we looked at each other with big smiles on our faces. We sensed victory. I felt a deep inner conviction that God had answered our prayer.

Just moments later, the program director returned to his office, relief on his face. “He’s fine,” he told us, “the fever has broken.”

Thom and I smiled at each other again. “We know,” I said. And we had known. God had made it clear to us that He had responded to our prayer (see John 14:12-15).

So we went down to the nurse’s station to talk with our friends, testifying to what God had done.

Years later, I look back on that instance and reflect on why we don’t have this type of obvious breakthrough more often. Is it because our specific flavor of Christianity does not really make room for that type of experience? Are we nervous to have that kind of faith because if it doesn’t “turn out right,” God might not be as big as we think He is? Does it rattle us because we haven’t quite figured out the theology of all that?

One thing I do see: God did something wonderful for two college students who were growing in their faith and serving Him. He glorified Himself in a powerful way so that we could, in turn, glorify Him through our lives. I have never forgotten that experience, and it certainly enriched my prayer life during a time of exceptional growth.

Still today I have times when I definitely feel called upon to pray. A few months ago I was folding laundry when I was compelled to pray fervently for a friend of mine who has struggled to bring a baby to full term. I wrestled and claimed promises, asking God to reveal Himself through bringing this baby safely into the arms of his anxious parents.

My friend did not call and say, “Wow, I thought I was going to miscarry this morning but I’m feeling fine now!” But she does have a son in her arms now, born prematurely, but growing healthy and strong. Did God use me in that? Perhaps. But not because I’m so wonderful or godly; it was more likely because I was obedient when He was recruiting prayer warriors.

Prayer is powerful because God is powerful (see Jeremiah 33:3).

Ele Parrott says it well: “As you can see, praying is the most powerful tool we have as believers. We just don’t get it, do we? It’s like having an atomic bomb in our hands and playing with it as if it were a squirt gun.”

Put the squirt guns down, fellow prayer warriors. Let’s aim for breakthrough prayer.