 I'll never forget when I first began to realize that I could know the Holy Spirit as a friend. May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all at 2 Corinthians 13-14. This is truly a life-altering revelation that the Holy Spirit can share in fellowship with you. As you begin to become aware of and responsive to this friendship, the Holy Spirit's presence and power begins to affect you in tangible and profound ways. Knowing this about the Holy Spirit stirred a godly hunger within me. There was a liveliness that came upon my spiritual life. I had always known there was more, and when I first began to hear about how the Holy Spirit communes with the believer, I knew I wanted that. If you desire an encounter with the precious Holy Spirit, write Welcome Holy Spirit in the comment section. I was raised in a Christian family. I'm a third-generation preacher, fourth-generation Christian. Growing up, I knew Jesus socially, historically, philosophically, but I did not know him personally. I memorized the Scripture and sang all the Christian songs, but I didn't know the Lord for myself. By the time I was 7 years old, I had already begun to become aware of the spiritual battle over my soul. I could feel the conflict between light and darkness clashing over me. Around that same time, I developed a struggle with depression and anxiety that grew worse and worse, peaking in intensity by the time I was only 11 years old. Now, when I talk about depression and anxiety, I don't just mean a general fear or sadness, I mean torment, demonic torment. I would hear voices, have horrific nightmares, and even speak with demonic entities. I'm not proud to say this, but the fact is that I saw demonic beings. One night, filled with terror, I was laying on a hotel bed during a family trip. We had actually gone to a week-long Bible conference. My family had gone to the service, but I stayed behind in the room. As I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling, I was so gripped by fear that I was shaking and sweating. Demons were harassing my mind. When my family returned from the service, I asked my dad if I could speak with him. He sent the rest of the family away, and I told him that I needed to give my life to Jesus. Now, the Bible doesn't mention the sinner's prayer, but it does mention sinners who pray. There in that hotel room, my father began to lead me in a prayer. As I started to pray, I could already feel a joy filling my heart to overflow. I could sense the love of God like a thick cloud in the room, like a weight upon my body. Something in me realized that Jesus I heard about is walking into this room. I'm about to meet Jesus. I'm really, really about to meet him. My father had me repeat simple words, but I wasn't able to. My mouth was trembling as I sobbed, and I could feel the warmth of tears streaming down my face. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted Jesus. The moment I received him, something happened. I had never felt so loved, so accepted, so at peace. When Jesus walked in, every demon ran out. The torment, gone. The anxiety, gone. All I could do was cry with relief and gratitude. In the years that followed, everything was different. Determined to hold nothing back from him, I decided to throw myself on his every promise. I immersed myself in total abandonment to his will. My commitment to make Jesus my Lord, Master, Savior and God was entirely sincere and entirely literal. I was well beyond a superficial claim, and said commitment brought about a complete miraculous transformation in me. This wasn't just a change of culture, beliefs or actions. It was truly a change of my very nature. I was recreated, new and born again. I became responsive and alive to God's voice, and his voice was faithful to guide me. In the days immediately following my born again experience, God set me up with a series of occurrences that seemed to be leading me down a distinct path. It was as if God had made appointments for me. God's sovereignty and my daily obedience kept me on a very specific, narrow course. Not a moment was wasted. If God asked me to do something, I did it without delay. If he asked me to believe something, I believed it without reservation. Thankful for the forgiveness of my many sins, I gladly yielded to his gentle guidance. Though I was by no means perfect, I did not wait until later in my Christianity to begin to take it seriously. To follow Christ by definition is to be what many would label as radical or extreme. In reality, if you truly begin to follow Jesus, even your days of so-called initiation are marked by the Holy Spirit's confrontational calls to vanquish all forms of selfishness. From the very start, Christ demands the entirety of your world. Unconditional obedience is the key to walking both consistently and precisely in God's will. Without fail, obedience toward God places you in the right moment with the right people under the right circumstances. I found that to be true as my days were filled with divine appointments, various occurrences that were too frequent to be dismissed as coincidences. The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives at Psalm 3723. I found myself standing before many mighty men and women of God who imparted spiritual treasures into my life. Because they had such profound spirituality, they were men and women with whom I felt I had no business speaking. Only God could have linked me with them. And he did so partly by my means of constant yielding to his voice. In other words, I cooperated with God's plan to help me grow. In addition, I found myself at events and church services that were distinguished by the grace of the tangible presence of God. I felt as though each one of those events were tailored specifically for me. In those services I heard messages that challenged me and experienced moments that accelerated God's work in my life. And books were placed in my hand that early on helped to shape the foundation of my faith and spiritual perspective. Each week brought about new relationships, resources and occurrences that helped me to grow in God. The Holy Spirit was cultivating my gifts and sharpening my spiritual sensitivity. Yes, God was truly guiding me. I felt a purposeful pool on my life as if the hand of God was carrying me toward a greater place. Each day, a new facet of God was revealed to me. And in each moment, I felt closer and closer to Jesus. The more I knew of him, the more I desired to know. The closer I was drawn to him, the closer I wanted to be. My heart was being transformed. A fire was being kindled deep within my soul. A passion for the purpose of God was being refined. When I awoke, he was foremost on my thoughts. As I tried to sleep, his goodness kept me awake. Throughout the day, the sense of his presence prevented sorrow and fear. There was a certain vibrant and life filled brightness about each moment. On a few occasions when I would pray, I'm almost positive that I could smell fragrance in the air. I became overwhelmingly fascinated with God. Every time that I opened the Bible, I felt as though I was opening a gift. Excitement and curiosity lit my mind. Piles of notes filled my desk. Notes filled with revelation about God. Each day, my spiritual journey took me through dozens of chapters of the Bible. Four to eight hours of daily prayer swiftly passed me by, seeming like only minutes. The newness of the life of God filled my being to overflowing. I felt like a weapon in God's hand. I sensed that I was being fashioned, polished, and prepared for God's use. But in the middle of my personal revival, something changed, and the change was something that greatly concerned me. Seemingly, I began to lose momentum. It felt like the pace of my growth had stalled, and I mournfully considered myself to be reaching the end of a spiritual growth spurt. I began to panic and pray, hasty prayers like, Lord, did I make you angry? What did I do wrong? Are you still with me? I also thought thoughts like, was it all just a phase? Will the sense of God's presence ever return to me? Did I do something to upset the Lord? Because of what I wasn't feeling anymore, I alleged that the heavy weight of glory, the endowment I had sensed over my life, was lifting. I was both puzzled and afraid. I felt like the spiritual wind was knocked out of me. It was difficult to regain my footing, yet stumbling, I found my balance and steadied along a determined direction. With a sense of urgency, with all that was within me, with all the strength that I could gather, I sought the face of God. I searched to again find the awareness of his majestic presence. In my mind, I was toiling to close a rapidly widening gap between God and I, yet my prayers didn't spark from genuine inspiration. Instead, they trudged from my mouth as repetition memorized prayers. Even my worship to God was scarcely intact. Essentially, my worship was more of a memorial than an extravagant expression unto God. Sadly, even my reading of the Scripture was different for me. There was a definite dryness to it. I felt more studious than spiritual. I felt as though an enormous stubborn wall obstructed my once swift movement. I felt discouraged. I felt overwhelmed. I felt tired. I felt abandoned by God. Feeling several confusing things, I really had only one important decision between two polarized options. Stay discouraged and quit or continue seeking God. It was then that I heard about the amazing reality, friendship with the Holy Spirit. I knew I wanted that. That simple truth that I could befriend the Holy Spirit staggered me. It captivated my heart. Soon, I was consumed with the idea. I couldn't get it out of my mind for even a minute. More than anything in the world, I wanted that friendship. One night, not only would I again find the refreshing springs of God's presence, but I would also make a new friend. Remembering the words of Jesus, I was inspired, but when you pray, go away by yourself, shut the door behind you, and pray to your Father in private. Then your Father, who sees everything, will reward you. It's Matthew chapter 6 verse 6. Locked away in my bedroom, it was as if all of the passion and desire within me had reached their maximum limit. A love for God had driven me to seek Him. I had hoped to see immediate results, though I couldn't tell you what I considered to be results in the first place. I already had the Holy Spirit, but I wanted to know communion with the Holy Spirit. Eventually, I committed. God, I'm not leaving this room until you show me something, until I am introduced to the Holy Spirit. I don't care if I'm here for days. I'll go hungry if I must, but I am not leaving here until you make your presence known to me. I am not going anywhere until you touch my life. And for the next few hours, I sought the Holy Spirit of God like never before. The chase had begun. My pursuit of the presence consumed me. Worship, Bible reading, prayer and tears. It felt as though I was off to a good start. One hour had passed. Nothing happened. There was no divine visitation, no glorious ecstasy. My room's atmosphere was as ordinary as it had ever been. I cried, but my pleadings were met by only frustration and disappointment. Trying to guilt God into a response, I prayed such prayers like, Lord, why won't you reveal yourself to me? Are you there? Have you abandoned me? Can't you hear me? Fear, not faith, became the place from which I sought the Lord. My face was pressed into the tear-drenched carpet. My fists were clenched with such force that I lost feeling in my hands. I tensed my entire body and wept. But as I emptied the reserves of my melancholy emotions, my words became empty and repetitive. What I lacked in a true and spiritual faith, I attempted to compensate for with emotion. My emotional efforts only further empowered feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and shame. Though I was a son, I was praying from the position of a beggar. Yet no amount of weeping was able to bring about the authentic touch of God that I was so desperately seeking. I persisted. Two hours had passed. Still, nothing happened. Now, pacing the room, I decided to get really serious. I reached for the more aggressive of my emotions. With what I thought was righteous indignation, I began to rebuke doubt and demonic spirits of distraction. With a firm and authoritative tone, I began to decree and declare. I asked angels to war for the atmosphere and God to establish his dominion. I spoke with might and strength. Raising my voice, I prayed. I started rebuking demons and darkness. If there was an adjective, I attached it to a demon and rebuked it. The demon of this and the demon of that. The demon of I can't pray. But within that hour, I learned that there was no power in aggression. For noise is not power. I had exhausted myself. I was seeking God by my own efforts. I made a lot of commotion, but did nothing with my connection. I persisted in human effort. Still, nothing happened. Three hours had passed. That my eager effort was unfruitful only discouraged me further. My mind began to analyze and assess. Where emotions failed, I had hoped that thoughtfulness would succeed. My mind shifted from thought to thought, searching for an anchored truth to which I could cling. In that moment, I recalled various conversations with spiritual mentors, and I remembered several ideas from the books I had read. I thought of the Bible verses I had memorized, the prayer techniques I had learned, and the spiritual warfare training I had been given. There was no formula I didn't try to apply. However, those mental attempts of the soul only served to complicate the matter. I became entangled in myself. My spirituality was itself my focus. I attempted to be spiritual by what I knew. And though I had determined to focus solely on God, my thoughts wandered and strayed into diversion. And even when my thoughts seemed to come back on track, they were ineffective, powerless. Emotion failed, strength failed, aggression failed, and then willpower and intellect were failing just as miserably. No emotion, thought, mindset, or effort had produced the encounter I anxiously sought. The enemy used my disappointment to weary me further. The battle began to drain my strength. Fear gripped me. The moments were passing by. Lord, I prayed. What am I doing wrong? Are you angry with me? And even still, nothing happened. Four hours had passed. What more was there to try? What had worked before? Rituals became my new course of action. I turned on worship music, opened my Bible, and held a reverent demeanor. I relied on actions that had before seemed to work. I even switched on the ceiling fan for comfort. Turning to formalities, my seeking became superstitious. Unknown to me, I was using only ritual. And the ritual is an attempt to be spiritual without the spirit. It was already the fourth hour, and I wondered if I had been wasting my time. I tried everything I knew to do. Heaviness weighed upon me. Overwhelmed, I picked myself up from the ground and prepared to give up. I felt silly for having determined to stay in my room, even somewhat embarrassed. All of my seeking had come to nothing. I began to cry. I thought, what more can I do? What more is there to try? If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. It's Jeremiah 29, 13. God, please, I prayed through my tears. Teach me how to find you. Help me. I don't know how to find you. I don't even know if I'm praying right. Can you show me how to pray? I don't know how to pray. I don't know how to find Jesus. Please, help me find Jesus. I had given my every effort and had nothing more to do. Then I grew very still, very quiet. I gave up trying. At that point in my heart, I knew that it was all on God. So I stood there and expected it. I patiently waited. Setting aside my own effort, I made way for the Holy Spirit to become involved. My only action, if it could even be considered an action, was that I anticipated. I waited. Applying rituals, I quickly lost enthusiasm. My body and soul were drained, tired. There was nothing left that I could give. I was empty. There was nothing more that I could do, and I knew it. When I asked the Lord to teach me how to find him, I heard him give me a simple instruction. Just wait and expect. Essentially, he was telling me to be still and have faith. I felt a gentle nudge that once more stirred the embers of my soul. A soft leading prompted me. Turn off the music, close the book, turn off the light, and switch off the fan. I said, Lord, but you can't move without the music. That's how programmed I was. To be clear, the scripture is very important, but for that moment, the Lord had me close the scripture just for that moment, and I did just that. I turned off the worship music. I closed my Bible. I turned off the light and the fan, and then it was calm, silent. Everything was so quiet except for the noise within me. I wondered how I might quiet the thoughts that brought about such distracting restlessness. I heard a very polite instruction. Close your eyes. So I closed my eyes, but my thoughts still raced. I prayed again, Holy Spirit, what do I do? The response was a very soft whisper. Look at me. Somehow I knew exactly what that meant. It meant to just meditate on the person of Christ, all that he is and all that he does. Prayer is a presentation of self to the Lord. We are to approach the throne room and wait. Once waiting, we need to only be quiet. Only the Holy Spirit knows the way into the greater depths of God's presence, and if you're quiet enough, you'll hear Him gently tell the way. And there, in the quietness of my room, my attention turned toward Jesus. The Holy Spirit was telling me to look at Jesus with the eyes of my heart, and I gazed upon Him by means of internal reflection. I thought of the love I might see in His eyes, the power I might feel in His hands, the authority I might sense on His shoulders, and the wisdom I might hear from His mouth. I pictured Him. It was an image painted from my knowledge of Scripture. It was the Word being manifested in my thoughts. I thought, what if I approached Him, as many did in Scripture? What if I were to kneel before Him and plead for His attention? And then I imagined His response. He wouldn't turn me away. He wasn't turning me away. Jesus was becoming real to me in that moment. Suddenly, I sensed a rupture of faith within my heart. It was like adrenaline for my spirit. I'm not skilled enough to adequately describe what I felt in that moment. It was such sweetness to His presence. Such a euphoric and uplifting energy. Like a cold breath of air, the life of God rushed through my body. It refreshed me. It rushed through my being. Though I sought the Spirit, all that I had read of Jesus in the Scripture was flowing through my mind. Jesus became the subject of my focus. His image captured my thoughts. The eyes of my heart had turned from myself to the Son of God. The Word was indeed becoming flesh. I forgot about myself. I forgot about my troubling thoughts. I forgot about every negative circumstance in my life. I forgot about my frustration. I even forgot about trying to pray. Jesus was becoming more real to me in that moment than anything I had ever known. My new friend, the Holy Spirit, introduced Himself by pointing to and vivifying the Son. The atmosphere was changing. The wind of the Spirit began to blow through my room. My body began to shake under what felt like currents of power. The very air seemed to be electrified with divine essence. My ability to stand was being taken from me. A warm and inviting heat enveloped my entire body. Raptured in a glorious and indescribable moment, I was moved to worship. But I used no words or song. I simply adored Him within my heart. Visuals of the throne of God flashed through my mind. I was catching glimpses of scenes that inspired me and filled me with joy. I lost all sense of time. I wasn't crying tears of frustration anymore. I was crying for joy. My mind was at rest. My soul was refreshed. And I felt that I had been pooled into a greater depth, a different reality altogether. I had entered a realm that I had never before experienced. My room became a little piece of heaven on earth. Jesus was in the room with me. He was so near. And I was so aware of His presence. My eyes closed. I thought that if I were to stretch out my hand, I might feel it brush up against His robe. I didn't want to open my eyes or even move an inch. And I don't think I could have if I tried. I wanted nothing to disturb the beauty of that moment. It was a holy and sacred experience that inspired an overwhelming awe. I trembled with fear and reverence. It was altogether marvelous and terrifying. Call it childlike faith. But I really thought that if in that moment I were to open my eyes, I'd see Jesus standing right there before me. As I became more aware of His ever-abiding presence, the reality of His person intensified. May you too encounter His presence. 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