Revival

I’ve been following the testimonies and news stories about the revival at Asbury University over the last few weeks. It began with a routine chapel service a week ago Wednesday, and it’s been going ever since. Seeing the videos posted by those in attendance is inspiring, and it’s been interesting to see a widening awareness in the media of what’s going on. The tone of the reports seems generally to be curious and respectful.

Asbury is my alma mater. I graduated in 1988, and after returning home for a year I went back to attend graduate school at the University of Kentucky, then joined the Asbury faculty in 1997. I thought I’d be there for the rest of my life, but a year later my husband proposed, and I left to marry and embark on the blessed enterprise of growing a family.

Seeing the videos brings back great memories. We had chapel three times a week, and those times when the whole campus community came together were to me the heart of the place. There were many moving services, and many that were ho-hum, but they impressed on me the sense of being a part of the body of Christ and gave me a sense of belonging that’s never been topped. Hughes Auditorium, with its imposing organ pipes crowned by Asbury’s “Holiness unto the Lord” dedication, has seen many hearts touched by God in one way or another. I remember taking my cousin there once when he came for a visit, and though the auditorium was empty and quiet with sunlight filtering gently through the stained glass, he stopped in his tracks and said, “This is a serious room.” True. It seems to carry the influence of God’s grace and love, and the changed hearts it has inspired. It has a memory.

Seeing the flood of visitors who have traveled to Wilmore has left me feeling a little troubled that I haven’t gone myself. Am I callous? Why don’t I feel the pull to go and be a part of what’s happening? In fact, I have almost an inward “no” when I think about it. “Stay put; keep praying.”

When we pray for revival, and something like the Asbury revival happens, there’s a temptation to act as though that’s “it.” But right here, 800 miles to the north, an after-school Satan club is setting up shop in the elementary school. Right here, my neighbors struggle. Right here, an addiction crisis center opened up on Main Street last year. And all of us, everywhere, are weary of lies and oppression. How glorious to think God might pour out such grace and refreshment where we are.

Asbury has a hallowed heritage, but God doesn’t require that to reach people. He can do that anywhere.