a memory
When I was about 15 years old, I went on a youth retreat to Florida. Shortly before the trip our church received a new pastor, and I was eager to impress him. One evening about 25 of us sat in a circle at the end of a service and our new pastor did what he called "opening people's mail." The mail was from God. We sat with our heads down between our knees, as if bracing for the imminent arrival of a hurricane, or knelt with our noses dug into the seat of our chairs. Our pastor said at the beginning, "God wants you to know that He cares for you, and that is why He is showing me what is in your lives. He wants to heal you." He spent nearly an hour reading our mail. He'd explain some pain in someone's life. That person would raise their hand, and our pastor would pray for him or her. For nearly an hour he spoke words of life into people's hearts and called people out of sin. Then he said, "There's one more thing that God wants to do tonight. This is very special. I want you all to listen closely to the Lord." Long pause. "God is calling four people tonight into the ministry. He is stirring your hearts right now. If you feel God calling you, I want you to respond to that call and let me know He is calling you, because He has some special words for you tonight." My heart stirred, but growing up in a Pentecostal church and home, I knew the dangerous possibility of confusing my emotions with true revelation. No one was raising their hands. The pastor kept calling. Someone raised a hand, then another did the same, then a third. The pastor kept calling. My heart began to race. He said he knew who the last person was. My emotional response was so strong, yet I was terrified of the possibility that it was not me and my hand raising would betray to our new pastor my lack of spirituality. My heart began to pound against my other organs. I wanted to raise my hand just to get it over with, but I was petrified. I felt as if I were a space heater, solely responsible for changing the temperature of the room to be ten degrees warmer. After what seemed like another hour, but must have only been five or ten minutes, my new pastor put me out of my misery by saying my name.. "Tim, it's you. God is calling you." All the heat was released and ran out of me in one exhalation that barely formed the first consonant of "Yes."

I've been a long time trying to understand that Yes.