I’ve long had a soft heart toward Asbury University and things of revival. As a youth pastor in the mid-1990s I led a few trips to Ichthus, a weekend Christian music festival (a response to Woodstock, actually) hosted by the Asbury seminary each April (it seemed to always rain). On one of those trips, I had been reading “One Divine Moment,” a small book that chronicles the Asbury revival of 1970, a revival that had touched my home church in Ohio as well as Anderson University (Ind.) where I attended nine years later. During that Ichthus weekend with my youth group, we walked the campus of Asbury University and the steps of Hughes Auditorium where the 1970 revival had begun—a spontaneous outpouring following the testimony of a student during a regular chapel service (as I remember from my reading). I was moved and inspired by the history. When our group returned home from that Ichthus we passed around “One Divine Moment,” kept a journal of our thoughts, and experienced our own movement of renewal (which included cleaning out a room labelled “Prayer Room” that had become the church junk closet—quite the metaphor—and establishing a long-standing prayer ministry).
So, when I started seeing posts in early February about a similar spontaneous outpouring on Asbury’s campus (started by students praying at the close of a regular chapel service), my spiritual antenna went up. The idea of visiting Asbury was not easily dismissed, though I spent a week rationalizing why I didn’t need to make the two-hour-plus trip: God’s Spirit can work anywhere, my best work of God’s Spirit is to be a present husband, dad, worker, minister. But the tipping point came with the thought that God seems to have a thing for “place”: the Promised Land, the Tabernacle, the Temple; for Jesus: a mountain side to pray, a “certain place” to pray. Additionally, God has been peeling me like an onion regarding many areas of life this past year… a prayer retreat at a “certain place” with a few thousand other sojourners soon became a “must do.”
So on Monday, February 20, 2023, I loaded up my golf rain gear (rain was predicted), grabbed my hiking shoes (who knows how far away I would need to park or how long I would wait in a soggy line…and it didn’t matter), stuffed food bars and bananas in every pocket of my rain gear (no bags allowed in Hughes Auditorium), and left the house at 6:10 AM with high expectations and many unknowns. Several days the previous week roads had to be closed into Wilmore due to overcrowding. I might not even get into town. And if I did, I might wait in line all day and have to leave before getting into the auditorium. It didn’t matter. If I ended up having my own personal prayer time in a rest stop along I-75, I knew it would also be personally historic.
As I arrived close to town, the temporary electronic signs used to warn travelers that Wilmore was closed were blank (a good sign, from the signs; sidenote: they did close the roads later that day.). I easily found a parking spot in the athletic area. I put on all my gear with food-stuffed pockets and started my walk across campus.
I arrived in the line about 8:45 AM for doors that would open at 1:00 PM. About 500 people were already in line. I was sure, however, that the wait would be rich and sweet. And it was. We all became “line friends,” we shared our stories that brought us to this specific moment, we shared stories of revival, we shared stories of prayers and dreams. It was a sacred line. The seminary chapel, Estes Chapel, was across the street from where I was waiting in line and was open for reflection, prayer and was set up to simulcast what was occurring in Hughes Auditorium. I dipped into that chapel twice while waiting in line. When I stepped into the chapel’s sanctuary the first time I was overwhelmed and immediately began to cry. Crying has been my personal hallmark of God’s presence. This cry was particularly significant since I felt very unemotional at the moment, thinking as I walked into the lobby “Oh, they have snacks for anyone…and water. And look at that, restrooms…what a nice usher…wow, this chapel reminds me of Park Place Church…” and then kablam…game on.
My entire experience, starting in that chapel and carrying into Hughes auditorium, was very personal, very “repentive” (if I might coin a word). The onion layers that God has been peeling have pertained to selfishness, entitlement, self-absorption…bad thinking that I am just now realizing likely took deep root during the first breast cancer battle with my late wife, Dana, 24 years ago. I circled the wagons out of protection then and have never opened the circle back up. While these revelations have been brewing for a year, I noticed that in my quiet drive to Asbury these revelations became more prominent and clarified the closer I got to campus. These onion layers were the subject of my prayer time in line and my time in Estes Chapel. Here’s the thing: I felt profound conviction to repent, I felt strength to change/adjust. What I didn’t feel: condemnation. I felt mercy. (And there is way more to share on this…another post for another time.)
The doors to Hughes opened promptly at 1:00 pm and I was led to a seat on the lower level at about 1:30 pm. At the time I was led in, the packed auditorium was in a sweet atmosphere of worship, led very simply and humbly and beautifully by students. At one point campus leadership provided simple teaching on what we were experiencing then provided opportunity for all of us to kneel at our seats and pray. We sang some more, then students shared testimony of how their lives had been radically changed this week. It was all so very moving. The atmosphere of the auditorium, as well as the chapel, was driven by the kindness of God.
I had opportunity to meet up with a dear longtime friend, Karen, who is on the board of the Asbury seminary and had been serving 10-hour shifts in prayer ministry in the auditorium. Also, her husband David is a coach/mentor of Zach who preached the chapel service on February 8 that became the catalyst for this outpouring (David also shared some of the simple teaching while I was in the auditorium). We chatted a bit in the lobby, she shared a few details of the early moments of this outpouring, as well as some stories from her experience serving as a prayer servant these past weeks. It is all so humbling and miraculous. (One of the most poignant details I learned about those early moments of the outpouring was that the chapel speaker felt he delivered a dud of sermon, having texted a friend just after chapel that he “whiffed.” This is great testimony to how God works and what He uses!)
I did have a hard-leave time to get home for an evening Bible study group I was leading. But that was fine…I felt I had lingered. It was hard to leave but the thought that kept my steps pointed in the direction of my van was “I can’t wait to live the change that just happened to me.” I texted Jessica that I was on my way home, and in my first move toward accountability, I added: “Headed home different.”
It was a silent, prayerful trip home. As I drove through Cincinnati a rainstorm settled in. When I neared Middletown and the storm began to lift I knew what God was going to do. I unhooked my phone to be ready. I neared Middletown, and there it was…a rainbow. It was faint, but it was there. For those who have followed my personal journey of loss (and new love), you know that the rainbow has been my personal God Stamp—a merciful reminder that His stamp is all over the experience, that He is with us no matter what. The rainbow was the perfect exclamation point (though, of course, it is the shape of parentheses). So many things fell into place affirming that I was supposed to be there. My prayer is that I can be a faithful witness to what I saw and a worthy steward to what I experienced. There certainly will be more to share.
For now, please know that InWord is being diligent to the task of coming alongside this movement of God any way that God might see fit. Those who have studied revivals/awakenings in culture and Scripture have noted that the outpourings with long-term cultural impact are those that are followed by a ministry of the Word of God. This truth has been a key driver behind InWord’s calling. We have been committed to developing tools that help mature an outpouring into a lifestyle, whether for one person or for thousands. Stay tuned! (and for now, you may want to check out InWord’s 30-day devotional in the gospel of John, Since God So Loved .)
