I yearned for the glory of God to come into my brokenness. But it wasn't until I learned to truly humble myself that I experienced it.
In his book, Holiness, Truth and the Presence of God, Francis Frangipane writes, "Think of yourself as one about to take a journey. Like all expeditions, our journey starts with a departure. Long before we arrive at holiness, we must depart from self-righteousness and pride. If we would live in the presence of God, we must first travel the way of humility and truth."
This is how my personal quest for God's glory began—with the truth. The truth was that my marriage of 15 years was in broken pieces. It had been built on a weak foundation, and now damaging cracks were exposed. My husband and I desperately needed a touch from God to change our earthly circumstances.
Reading and hearing about the evidences of spiritual renewal in the body of Christ brought me hope that things might change.
It was 1994. Miracles of glory (the tangible presence of God) were being reported in various locations around the world. Testimonies of healings documented the spiritual phenomenon flowing from Toronto, Canada, with pastors John and Carol Arnott. I thought, Perhaps there is a miracle for me. Maybe the glory of God will heal my broken heart and my broken marriage.
I was desperate for God. I longed to have His glory touch the brokenness. I wanted Psalm 63 to become a reality for us as a couple so that even in the barren areas of our marriage Jesus would be glorified. It was the cry of my hurting heart.
One night in the spring of 1996 God answered my cry. He showed me the dead tomb of my marriage, where He desired to resurrect life in His glory. And He invited me to walk through the one door that led out of the tomb—humility.
It had been a wonderful time of worshiping, praying and seeking God's face together with a small group of desperate people at John R. Mott Auditorium in Pasadena, Calif., where Harvest Rock Church (now HRock Church) meets. Now home, I washed the remaining dishes of the day, wiped off counter tops and cleaned the floor.
Suddenly, a loud rumbling of feet, voices of heavenly tongues and words of Scripture began to spring forth rapturously from the other room. My daughter Joy and her friend Christine had been camping there on the floor in sleeping bags. Apparently, God had other plans for what had originally been conceived as a 12-year-old's sleepover.
When I stepped into the room, I entered a realm not of this world. All three of us began to shake violently. Touching one another only intensified the shaking. It was as if raw voltage went through our bodies on contact. My first thought was, This must be like the day of Pentecost!
Then, simultaneously, Joy and Christine both shouted, "Mott, we must go to Mott [Auditorium]. Angels are there. God is coming! There are flames of fire, flying doves, angels, so many angels of so many sizes. We must go!"
I gathered the two girls and my other two daughters, and we quickly drove to Mott. Entering the auditorium, part of an old Nazarene college facility, we immediately beheld a thick cloud resting all about the dim sanctuary. A lush fragrance filled the air. A realm of heaven was open before us as we stood there in the midnight silence at the threshold of God's glory. I was awestruck when I heard the girls describing in unison the dimension that they were seeing.
There were doves, tongues of fire and a myriad of angelic hosts worshiping from every seat with a beautiful, unfamiliar, heavenly sound. The invisible was made visible. Heaven was touching earth, and God was changing us in His glory.
My personal revelation of the glory of God on that calm night when He inhabited Mott was the deepest, most dramatic revelation of God I have ever experienced. All I could do was weep uncontrollably as I lay prostrate in praise and worship, while at the center of the large sanctuary, a thick, white cloud of pure, unending heavenly worship flowed in a sacred, vertical chasm from heaven.
Though it seemed as if only moments had passed, the glory of God consumed us for more than six hours. It was six hours of transformation, during which I was overshadowed, covered and consumed by the pure love and divine pleasure of this all-knowing, all-holy, perfect One who formed and made me. In that brief open heaven, I became intensely aware of who God is and who I am. My true existence was illumined.
In an instant, I was gloriously "ruined" for Him. I pleaded, "To seek You, Lord, to know You is my highest aim. I lay down everything. Every part of me is Yours, Lord. Even if my marriage never changes, as long as I have You, I will want for nothing else."
The true condition of my heart was laid bare, and I clearly saw that no human relationship, no worldly possession, no human desire of any kind could or should satisfy the deepest longing of my heart and meet the greatest need of my soul. To Jesus alone belonged that honor.
The Lord shattered the tombstone over my heart. He called me forth, exchanging my grave clothes and dressing me with His glory.
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