Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Obligated to fulfill my civic duty as a juror, I sat in a large waiting room flipping through a Nicky Cruz book, thinking about last Thursday night. A large African American man in an orange shirt crossed the street holding hands with a woman. Cuevas asked if anyone wanted prayer. The man raised his hand and said repeatedly, “I’mma backslidden preacher.” Mike and Julia Peace drowned the couple with words of life and strength. The guy wouldn’t stop crying. Mike held him in a bear hug. I fought back tears at the sight.

I turned my attention to Tobias and a young lady wearing bright green mascara. She told him she felt like an outcast in church. “I love the Lord, I read my Word, but it’s like they stay away from me because of the way I dress and look.” Tobias encouraged her and I thought, “Here is an articulate, artistic (she writes poetry and sings) treasure of God missing from church. I hope this hits you like it hit me here in this waiting room: her name is Passion.

If passion is missing from the church, all you have is a social club. If passion is missing from the church, soldiers become spectators.

A man once said to me, “What you guys are doing here is that new thing from God.” I nodded, but this is what I should’ve said, “No, bro. This is as old as John chapter four. This has always been the agenda. This has always been His Passion.”