“Deep Calleth Unto Deep” was written early in my process of consecration and was first published 2012/04/28. I was pretty new to blogging and was still struggling to write what was in my heart for all to see. I also wasn’t writing much as I didn’t think I had much to say, although I’ve had plenty to say since then! God has done a mighty work in my life and He’s not done with me yet! I hope that reading “Deep Calleth Unto Deep” will give you an idea of what the start of my time of consecration was like.
Some of you are going to shake your heads at me. I go without writing anything for a long stretch, and then write something very personal. I am struggling a bit with allowing others to see into my spirit: I feel compelled to and yet am hesitant because it’s so private. I think those that know me better than most, will agree that I don’t open up much or often but; there is something about this change that is happening to me that pushes to get told. It reminds me a bit of Jeremiah 20:9 “But his word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay.”
I’m not sure if I can pinpoint the start of this metamorphosis, but I know I was forced to make some changes (2010) when I reluctantly left my church that I had called home for over 30 years. My son-in-law had felt called of God to start another Apostolic work in our city and I felt not only did I need to support them, but also, I wanted to be in on the birthing of a new church. Both my old pastor and my new pastor felt it would be better if I made a clean break from my old church for myself and for my dear church family I was leaving behind, so I suddenly found myself in a tiny congregation feeling very lonely and isolated. The loneliness and isolation persisted until I started looking outward at the city and community around me. I started to see people in a different way. I started to see lonely, unhappy people. I also saw hungry hearts. A turning point in my feeling of isolation came the weekend our pastor asked our tiny congregation to drive around the city and pray for it. We could have all fit into one large van, but I drove myself and another lady who was unable to navigate the big step up into the van. We followed the van and drove around the city and the surrounding community praying as we went. A burden for the city slowly settled upon me as we drove and prayed. That burden became urgent as we drove above a suburb of red roofs. I was praying out loud and couldn’t help but pause and wave my arm over the expanse of red roofs and say “Look at all of those red roofs. Think of the families and children living there that do not have salvation.” As we drove and prayed, I started to notice something. I could feel different spirits emanating from different areas. Some of the areas had a deep loneliness, others deep evil, some areas were cold and empty and a couple of rural areas had the sweet presence of Jesus resting over them. We finished the drive, but the burden for the city continued with me. Because of this burden, my prayer for the city changed. It became more personal and urgent. I felt more and more desperate to do something to reach the lost and hurting of the city. I can’t pinpoint when, but suddenly I KNEW there was a door opening, not just over a family or a person or even over a city, but everywhere, not like a door to a house opens, but like the light comes up over the horizon. I knew that anything I thought of doing to reach souls, I should just go ahead and do, because “the door is open”. My mantra became, “the door is open”. No matter how impossible something seemed, it didn’t really phase me because, “the door is open”, even the things that before, would have seemed a waste of time I now had faith in because, “the door is open”. My pastor was asked to preach at a state event being held in the city and I knew it was because God had opened a door that no man could shut. Then the family of my very dear back-slid friend came to church and prayed through and I knew it was because, “the door is open”. It wasn’t long after this that my friend gave in to my persistent overtures and joined me at a Ladies retreat. It took no persuading from me, for my friend to respond to the gentle voice of our Savior. She prayed until she was broken before the Lord and turned back again to her Merciful God.
It was during this time of my growing burden that I started watching video clips of Lee Stoneking preach. Before this, I had gotten myself in the habit of watching a video or tv show in the evenings (Sherlock Holmes or something of the sort) or reading a book. I also spent a great deal of time on Facebook, but, as I got drawn into Lee Stoneking’s preaching I cared less and less for my various forms of entertainment. The preaching was doing something to me. I was getting hungry for a deeper walk with God. I was responding to the message as though I was right there in the congregation. I consecrated and re-consecrated my life. I poured out my heart to God. I repented of my stubborn sins and gave myself over to God to cleanse me. I became determined to grow in God and put what I was hearing into practice. I couldn’t get enough of Stoneking, Nona Freeman, Billy Cole and other men and women of God. (including my Pastor). I was also trying to increase my private devotions and was making more time for them and trying very hard to be faithful in them. I was changing.
Then, one night I seemed to step over into another realm. As I prayed, I suddenly seemed to enter into someone else’s prayers. I seemed to step into a powerful spirit of prayer. It was like stepping into a violent, rushing river and my feeble prayers were being swept along like a small boat in white water. I was so shocked, I would have stopped praying immediately except I had just heard Lee Stoneking talk about the strength in even a dying woman’s feeble prayers, so I tried to continue to pray. I felt completely out of my depth. I felt like a non-swimmer being tossed about in a swift, strong current. I felt like I had entered into a place of prayer that I didn’t belong, so I distanced myself and went back to praying the way I had before this event. After some days of my usual prayer, I couldn’t help but seek out this place of prayer again. Almost immediately I once again found myself bobbing about in this powerful river of prayer. This time I was able to continue in prayer for some time. I still felt like I was way out of my depth, but I couldn’t help but desire to experience the excitement and strength of this powerful river of prayer .
I don’t know how or why God allowed me access to this wonderful place of the Holy Ghost, but I think often now of Psalms 42:7-8 “Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me. Yet the Lord will command his loving kindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.”
Yes, Deep calleth unto deep. It’s time to read my Bible and pray.