Today marks the first Sunday in the month of June, and I've decided to share some excepts from the Book fire in my bones by Benson Idahosa.
I recommend this book as a good read it you want to have depths of understanding of Worshipping God.
I'd be sharing it in parts and hope you'd be blessed as you read.
Disclaimer: the entirety of the write up below is that of the Author Benson Idahosa
"I wish I could just expose this so greatly to you that your heart and mind would
set on fire. But if you know not this .. :' Elder W. Lawrence Richardson pauses,
momentarily grasping for words. How does one convey the ecstasy of rapture to
one whose soul is yet unsaved? How does one describe an experience whose depths
render all descriptions inadequate? The elder tries again, this time addressing
process rather than feeling. "It comes quick and it goes quick." Another pause.
Our conversation is stretching into its second hour, as Elder Richardson patiently shares understandings granted him by God and confirmed by personal
experience. The evening's talk, like many before it, presses into the night. He, a
Primitive Baptist elder and a singer of deep intensity, sits on one side of a small
kitchen table. I, a folklorist seeking understanding of a power often witnessed and
sometimes felt, sit on the other. Only the muted sound of the cassette's turning
wheels breaks the evening's silence. I sit expectantly, respecting the pause, waiting.
Suddenly, a cry of "Hallelujah!" explodes from Elder Richardson's lips, transforming his countenance from earnestness to undeniable joy. "Something hit me
right then! Sure enough! I ain't kidding you!" The phrases tumble forth with infectious exhilaration, pressing one after another through a widening smile. «Yeah!
Something hit me just that quick!"
There's no need to ask what that "something" was. If the preceding words hadn't
made it clear,the overall conversation certainly had. In those fewfleeting moments,
Elder Richardson had experienced the emotional transport of transcendence.
"It don't stay with you;' Elder Richardson continues, his words still buoyed by
excitement. "And you can't keep it long. It'll hit you here, and it just-something
feel funny, go all to the sole of your foot! It'll make you want to-Hallelujah!" Once
again his eyes turn toward heaven and his voice rises in praise. "Sure enough!"
Now the laugh that has been building in his throat cascades forth, a blissful
laugh born of beatitude rather than humor. «Amen!Now, this is what I'm talking
about. Otherwords, you got to be in it to feel it. And if you're not in it, you just sit
there and you look."Elder Richardson pauses, briefly fixing his eyes on mine. Watching me watchinghim. I still say nothing. «But when you are in it;' he continues, «God is never
absent. When you are in the Spirit, and serving the Spirit, then God's going to let
you know that you have been heard by Him:' His heightened tone and jubilant
smile suggest that the rush of joy has yet to subside. «Amen! I wouldn't have a
religion that I couldn't feelsometimes!"!
Sitting in that darkened room, I listen with anticipation and awe. What moves
me is not Elder Richardson's words- I've heard similar words in many services and
conversations. Nor is it the seemingly spontaneous touch of the Spirit-I've often
witnessed the touch in talks with sanctified believers and have heard enough
testimonies to know that the Spirit heeds no boundaries of place or occasion. What
moves me is the transformative power of the holy touch, a power felt both phys-
ically (the «feeling" that penetrates from head to foot) and emotionally (the rapturous infusion of joy). More important than its impact in either of these realms,
however, is the Spirit's power to move the soul,to touch that mysterious wellspring
that grants being its experiential essence. The saints of the African American
sanctified community say that soul is the domain not of body or mind, but of
spirit. And when the Spirit touches spirit, the soul rejoices in an epiphany of truth
and knowledge.