While attending church during my childhood, I began hearing about the Holy spirit and what he did. Since my home church generally taught from the King James Bible, I first knew him as the Holy Ghost, and I thought that sounded a little creepy. Ghosts reminded me of Halloween, something I was never allowed, or even desired, to celebrate. I remember asking my mother about this spooky-sounding holy being, and she told me he was like my conscience – prodding me inwardly when I did or thought something wrong. I figured that was a good thing and didn’t find him quite so scary after that.
As I matured and began hearing Sunday sermons, I learnt more about the Holy Spirit, as he’s called in the more modern translations. I learnt about Pentecost, when the Spirit came in a mighty rushing wind, and rested upon the disciples in the form of tongues of fire, enabling them to speak in different languages. (Acts 2: 1-4.) I thought that sounded pretty amazing. I also began learning about the gifts of the Spirit, which, I was taught, ranged from preaching and teaching right through to the gift of helping others, and even included things like being able to speak and interpret a special heavenly language known as the gift of tongues. Since ours was a relatively conservative Baptist church, I didn’t hear that last gift being used until much later in my life.
I was going along all right with my understanding of the third person of the trinity until one Sunday, when a preacher told us about his experience of being slain in the Spirit. He said someone had offered to pray for him, and the next thing, he found himself bowled over by the power of God and landed flat on his back on the floor. He talked about this as a wonderful supernatural experience, but I found the whole idea downright scary. After that, I began hearing about people who’d had visions from the Spirit, sometimes including flashing lights or hearing the voice of God in a clear audible form. I’d had a fear of things that go bump in the night, strange voices that came from no where, and sudden flashing lights as far back as I remembered, so all this made me decide I didn’t like the Holy Spirit all that much after all. I wanted God the Father and Jesus his son, but the Holy Spirit could stay where he was.
I never admitted my fears and hesitancy, until the day I was backed into a corner and forced to. Our church was having its first Alpha course, and I’d enjoyed being a part of it, right up until our new pastor announced the upcoming Holy Spirit weekend. In our case, it wasn’t going to be a weekend, because we were squishing the whole thing into a day. The pastor enthused about how they would be praying for people to be filled with the Spirit and receive his gifts, and all I could think was: “You’re not praying for me! No thank you! I don’t want to hear loud voices, be knocked off my feet, or see flashing lights or other strange visions.”
I tried everything I could to get out of that Holy Spirit day, short of lying to my mother and making up a fake illness. I think the only reason I didn’t do that was because I was scared God might strike me down for it. So, off I went, in great fear and trembling. By this point, my mother understood my fears, but she didn’t quite know how to speak into them. She hoped the day itself would help, but all that happened was that I became more and more tense as events progressed.
The day started with singing – an activity I usually loved, but not that day. I was afraid to open my mouth. Then they prayed, and I heard the gift of tongues being used for the first time. Rather than seeing it as a wonderful thing, I felt so scared that if it hadn’t been for my lack of sight, I would have bolted from the room. To me at that time, it was just a cacophony of sounds that didn’t make sense, and one person in particular sounded angry. Was God angry with us and trying to tell us so in this strange heavenly language?
Next came seemingly endless hours of video teaching sessions. I knew I ought to be taking it in. This was the word of God, and I was on Alpha because I wanted to learn and grow in my faith, but all I could think about was the final hour in the afternoon when we’d been told we were going to pray for people to be filled with the Spirit. I kept wondering how I could avoid it. Our church didn’t have an indoor toilet back then, so I couldn’t slip off and use that as an excuse.
I choked my way through lunch, and worried my way through the final teaching session, which was all about being filled with the Spirit. I don’t think I heard a word of it, and by the time we gathered in small groups for prayer, I was literally shaking with fear. What was going to happen? How could I be sure it didn’t happen to me? I sat with my mother on one side and our pastor’s wife on the other, and waited, praying I wouldn’t burst into tears and make a fool of myself.
What did happen that afternoon was not a lot. I think the Lord had mercy on me and my slightly immature fears. I also believe my mother must have had a subtle word with the pastor’s wife. They all prayed. I didn’t; I was too scared, but those who did prayed sweetly and gently, and I actually began to feel God’s peace. By the time it was all over, I felt rather foolish, but I still wasn’t ready for the work of the Holy Spirit in my life, just in case he did something unexpected and scary.
After that, my mother began taking my fears a little more seriously, and she suggested I chat to an older and wiser friend. This lady was one of the most straight-talking and trustworthy women I knew, and I believed she would always say things as they were. She wouldn’t try and butter me up or say what I wanted to hear to make me feel better. So I explained my fears, and having listened carefully, Peggy asked if I understood that the Holy Spirit is a gentleman. I said no, I’d never heard him spoken of in that way, and she explained he wouldn’t give me anything I wasn’t ready to receive. She said I could explain my fears to God and ask confidently to be filled with his Spirit without worrying about what would happen next.
Just weeks later, I found myself alone with our pastor’s wife listening to worship music. WE both loved Hillsong, and we were spending a quiet hour just basking in the beautiful words and music. She encouraged me to keep turning the music up until it was filling the room. I knew she was praying for me, and could faintly hear her praying in tongues, but it no longer felt scary. Slowly, I felt a beautiful presence envelop me, and I knew this was God’s Holy Spirit. Far from being afraid, I welcomed him, and the words of the songs we were hearing suddenly gained new meaning. I felt God’s reassurance that there was nothing for me to fear. I stayed firmly sat in my seat, but all the tension I’d been holding onto seeped out of my body. Later, the pastor’s wife, now my mother-in-law, told me I was glowing, and I believed her, because I could feel the glowing on the inside.
That moment marked a turning point in my life, as I slowly began to release my fears of all things spiritual. The next time I heard people speaking in tongues, it didn’t seem half so scary, even if some of them did shout a bit. I felt the holiness of this heavenly language, even though I hadn’t been given the gift of using it myself. Later, I did begin speaking a few words I couldn’t understand, but this is a gift that’s still developing in me, and one I’m not totally confident to use yet. Most importantly, I know God is okay with that, and the Holy Spirit is waiting in his loving gentlemanly way for me to grow in his giftings.
With regard to being slain in the Spirit, although that hasn’t happened to me, I’ve seen it twice, and both times I was awe-struck by the power and greatness of God. On one occasion, a young man was being commissioned for evangelism. As our pastor prayed, his feet seemed to give way from under him. One minute he was upright, and the next he lay flat on his back. I asked him afterward if it hurt, and he said he didn’t feel a thing. Another friend who is totally unflappable seems to crumple every time someone lays hands on her in prayer, and she says when it happens, she feels totally enveloped in the love of God.
The Holy Spirit is at work in the lives of all God’s children, if we will let him in. Where once I resisted him, now I embrace him, and long for all he has for me. I know there is more I have yet to experience, and I am excited about all God will do in my life by the power and person of his Holy Spirit.
Some of you reading this may be equally eager, but if any of you are fearful as I once was I want to assure you that the Lord loves you more than any human being possibly could. He understands your fears, just as he did mine. He knows some of his children are skittish when it comes to the supernatural, and he does not want to frighten you. Never be afraid to ask for God to fill you with his Spirit, because you fear being overwhelmed by his power. In time, you may want him to overwhelm you, as I am beginning to now, but if you’re not in that place yet, then ask him to come lovingly and gently. Remember, in the Bible, the Holy Spirit often came in the form of a dove, symbolising peace. God doesn’t want you to be afraid of him, but rather, he wants to fill and overwhelm you with his peace.