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Writer's pictureLou Fister

The Weight of Wind

Updated: Sep 24

I'm an old church kid. I was raised on a wooden pew in Western Pennsylvania. My teachers were a well-intentioned collection of Christians spanning age and occupation, and the Bible was our text book. My education had a methodical form that left little to chance. The meter for success was compliance to the rules.  It was here I learned about the Father, Son, and Hol- (interrupted by mumbling)

 

I saw God the Father as an all-powerful, unapproachable, big brain behind everything in the world.  I understood God the Son, Jesus, as God in the flesh, sent to connect us to God the Father. But the Holy Spirit, we didn't really talk about Him too much. I got the feeling that He was some part of God that you could overdose on. If you got too much of Him you might get out of control and do weird things. When the grownups around me did talk about Him it was in hushed tones, aghast with stories of people speaking in different languages and dancing in church. Dancing! (sarcasm) Can you imagine? (more sarcasm) In fact NOT doing that was on our list of rules! I understood that The Holy Spirit like a can of worms that left too much to chance. He could not be controlled and He didn't fit into our box.

 

This became one of the things that just never set right inside me. I don't remember a time when the inside me and the outside me were the same me. I spent years wresting with faith. As a young adult, I even tried to ditch the whole thing. Fortunately God never gave up on me and eventually my faith became my own. Just me and Jesus working it out. He rescued me, personally. He became my companion, Lord, and confidant - and we danced.

 

I love hot spicey food. My favorite is cantina style nacho chips and homemade salsa with just the right amount of cilantro. If you prefer sweet food, consider a warm cinnamon roll dripping with little drizzles of glaze. Mmmm! Good stuff. If you serve me salsa without cilantro, no matter how good it is, I am left wanting. The same way you might feel about that cinnamon roll if there was no sweet drizzle. It's just not complete. It's literally missing the icing on the cake.

 

That's how I felt about my spiritual life. It was good, I felt alive, seen and known by God, and gaining confidence in life and ministry. But the tastebuds of my soul were searching for a missing ingredient. Fortunately, and divinely, I landed in a church that had corporately and individually been on the same journey for years. They were way ahead of me and I began to soak in the richness of God's presence, the Holy Spirit, through their influence. They talked a lot about the Holy Spirit - a lot. When I had personal moments with Him I felt renewed from the inside and strangely, more like the me I knew I was meant to be.

 

I wanted more. I thought of the caution with which I had been taught to approach this subject. I wasn't afraid, I just wanted to do it right. The Bible is not lean on the presence or activity of Holy Spirit. Seriously, have you read the book?...He shows up in the second verse! l have a list of favorite passages that continue to teach me who He is and what He does. That list keeps growing. One of my favorites is Jesus telling his disciples that while He had lived WITH them, the Spirit was going to live IN them. He actually told them that because of that, they would be better off when He left. Wait! What? Pump the brakes!!! Better than God in an earth suit? How can I not want as much of that as I can possibly get? Overdose? Yes please!! 

 

I spend a lot of my time at Mahaffey Camp. In July of 2023, I listened to Pastor Jenks talk about the Holy Spirit for a week. He said all the things I thinking and encouraged us to ask for the Holy Spirit to fill us. So I did. I'm not sure what I expected. Some display of emotion? Holy Laughter? Swooning? - you know all those things I had been warned about. I didn't experience anything like that and I concluded that God hadn't seen fit to give me any more of his Spirit than I already had. Once I got home, I felt a little disenchanted over the whole thing.

 

My home church continued to teach on the life fueled by the Holy Spirit. Instructional teaching yes, but moreover a culture and community of people who consistently display power and love beyond human ability - filled and being filled. The exact stuff the Bible teaches is evidence of the Holy Spirit. Over and over I would ask God to fill me with his Spirit. I had a lot of great moments where I knew the presence of the Spirit. I had moments where I knew what God's Spirit was saying to me and had confidence do what He said. Even moments of great emotion which is not normal for me. But I didn't want moments, I wanted an uninterrupted timeline.


In July of 2024, I went back to camp and went back to Pastor Jenks afternoon teachings about the Holy Spirit. This time one of the things He shared was his own story on the matter. It was so very similar to my own. He'd ask for the filling of the Holy Spirit, not see any external manifestation, and so assumed it hadn't happened. Finally, it was suggested to him that the evidence would show up in his future life and ministry not necessarily at the initial moment. He clung to Luke 11 where God promises to give his Spirit to those who ask. Clearly God honored his request because when you meet Pastor Jenks, there is plenty of evidence that the Holy Spirit has filled him, and continues to. So, on one of the last nights of camp, during the closing music of a service in the tabernacle, I asked God again to fill me with his Spirit. I thought about Jesus comparing the Holy Spirit to wind. (John 3) I realized I had been like my original teachers, trying to limit God their understanding. Goodness! You can't put wind in a box! So I stood with my arms to my sides, just slightly extended with palms open and asked. I told God that I needed no sign, His word was good enough for me.


This is where it gets good. All of a sudden my arms felt like a ton of bricks. So much that I looked down to see what I has holding. Nothing. I shook them out. I didn't want to get distracted from this serious moment. I went back to my silent and earnest request to be filled with the Spirit and again the sensation of weight in my arms. This time it traveled up and sat in my shoulders. Then I got it. God is not only good but has a sense of humor. When my faith was big enough that I didn't need a sign, He gave me one anyway. I laughed out loud and thought… "Wow, wind weights a lot!"


This is not an article on doctrine, it's a memoir of my experience. If your experience is different, I consider us both blessed that we have a personal God who communicates to us based on how He created us and the ministry He planned for us. For me, like my buddy Pastor Jenks, the evidence is in what is happening now - in me and through me. He is leading me into new places and changing me. My journal can hardly keep up. I have new capacity and desire to do things that normally I do not. I have a new power for obedience to God's voice. I see my unattractive character qualities being uprooted. Confession has become something I run to rather than from. And I laughed out loud at myself when I realized I had begun initiating hugs. Ha! Truly evidence! I say I want to end each day, week, and each year, by turning around and seeing the adventure the Spirit led me on. I want more. No box, all wind. I'm sure it will involve much dancing. 

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