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Part 4: Spiritual Hunger

The final excerpt of a spiritual account in a letter from a friend who gave permission but prefers that her name not be used. I find her story very stirring and real and a terrific demonstration of how the spiritual experience can be astonishingly entwined with the physical. She notes that she uses the masculine pronoun for God out of long habit. Part One was posted three days ago.


…It was a little taste of heaven.  I found myself laughing that I couldn’t move and didn’t care.  Others were experiencing the same thing; it was described as being “stuck” to the floor.  Though I didn’t have any physical healing, others in that room did, while on the floor.  I did feel as though a barrier of control, in myself, was cracking, though.  I’m a private person, and being stuck to the floor in a public setting was out of my comfort zone.

The one common denominator among all of the people attending was a spiritual hunger, a dissatisfaction with a lack of experiential Christianity in their churches.  Even after my “stuck” experience, though, I had a difficult time with some of the wild behavior in that sanctuary.

When I realized it wasn’t my job to judge anyone else’s experience, I relaxed and could tune out some of the louder stuff.  I also realized that it would be a mistake for anyone to think that if some behavior had nothing to do with the presence of God, then there was no legitimate expression of His love and power there.  I can attest to the fact that there was, truly, a loving, supernatural element in that place. I had another dramatic experience there, involving praying for someone else for healing, but it would take too long to write.

I returned to North Carolina with some significant changes.  One idea from Toronto was that this was a spiritual “anointing” (a sense of the Holy Spirit) that was transferable from person to person.  I found that this was true when I was, unexpectedly, called to the front of a small church and asked to pray for people, within a week of returning to NC.

Even more out of my comfort zone, I barely touched people, who were (in a genuine way) collapsing and needing to be caught in this church and telling me later how significant the experience was.  I was more shocked than anyone; I wasn’t feeling anything.  This transfer did “wear off,” for lack of a better term; but it was just the beginning of these more physical experiences for me.

I would welcome an account of your own spiritual experience for possibly sharing here, either with your name or anonymously. Send to me at [email protected] or simply leave as a Comment here.

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