I cannot say how He moves me. I don’t know if I can explain it well enough, but this is me trying. There was an experiment done on the human brain that made people twitch their arms or legs involuntarily. That is, by electrically stimulating a certain region specific to that muscle it would make it contract. Yet no matter what region was stimulated the subject was always aware that someone else was doing the action and not himself, as if he was only a puppet on a string, and in a small way felt violated. The morning I exited out into my backyard with my arms raised up in surrender, I too felt the strings upon me and saw how they rose beyond the clouds into heaven. As I was pulled along like a marionette doll I heard the voice ask me, “Are you ok with this?” and I honestly said, yes, of course, because as the strings pulled me closer to Him I knew there was no place I’d rather be.
There were other times, smaller instances, when I moved yet by myself can’t take responsibility. There were modest things, like when I first learned to drive and had a heavy lead foot. Once, I was about to speed out past a stop sign while not seeing the oncoming car. My right hand snapped the gear into neutral so the accelerator did nothing and I sat there wide-eyed as he sped past my revving engine.
Then there was the first time I actually acknowledged the spirit that had made His home in me. This was a few weeks after my personal revival. I was lying in bed and praying to God asking that he remove the pollution from my soul. My house was a mess and I had reached my limit in pretending things were okay. I knew then that I had to trust in God fully or any devil would have his way with me, and looking back on how things had been I even got a little angry. So, with some passion in my voice, I commanded this house to be clean in the name of Jesus. I commanded all unclean spirits to leave in the name of Jesus. It was the name that did it. As I spoke my right arm tightened and flexed its muscle. I understood immediately: He is my strength. My arm stayed flexed like that all throughout the prayer bringing tears to my eyes in thanksgiving as the demons screamed in despair running from me because they got the message too.
Beyond this there were moments of encouragement as I spoke, or was about to speak, and I knew that God was with me. For instance, there was a time I was sharing with Montie something I thought would point him towards Christ, and my own right hand, which was hidden in my pocket, was holding the ‘ok’ signal; a signal just for me in support to keep talking. Then there was another moment when we were all seated in a circle at Joel’s house talking about God and I wanted to tell them something but was too shy and wouldn’t speak. Almost right away my right arm tightened and again I knew; He is my strength, yet still, I would not speak. Then my chest also flexed, then down to my legs, and I could not hold the words in me anymore. When I spoke it was with a passion I hadn’t felt before because I knew there was something God wanted to say.
For all these things I know personally that there is a God living somewhere, miraculously, within this veil of flesh. To you, it could easily be seen as fanciful thinking, or an overactive subconscious, except I’m the one experiencing it. Yet perhaps that’s to my disadvantage, and being in the thick of it I’d be almost handicapped to see the reality of things. Well, that to me is true, in a sense, yet in this blindness I grope for the things of God and haven’t once been disappointed. It’s as if to this day He still pulls my strings, currently unfelt by me, still closer to Himself and the satisfaction of my soul.
Copyright 2015 Jason S Cooper Image From http://www.costaricantimes.com