Free Stepping Down by Michelle Stimpson

He made for us is still in effect. It is finished.
    “The
only requirement is to believe. If you’ve been listening to sin, if you’ve been
trying to argue your own case before God, trying to do everything right so God
will forgive you—you can stop. He already has. Fall in love with Him the
way He’s already in love with you.
    Mark
felt the leading to give the invitation a different way. “Every head bowed,
every eye closed. Right where you are. You don’t have to stand or walk down the
aisle. You don’t have to give us your name or your number or your address. You
don’t even have to raise your hand. Right where you are, if you feel Christ
knocking at the door of your heart, just open it. If you’ve already accepted
Christ but you’ve been wrestling with sin, just surrender to Christ. Believe on
what He has done and give it all to Him. Sin is broken. The same rest you will
have in heaven can start now because He’s the same God there as He is
here. Right there, where you’re sitting, open your mouth and let Him know that
you receive Him.”
    The
revelation flowing from Mark’s mouth stunned him. He hadn’t planned it, had
never even considered the idea that believers didn’t have to wait until
eternity to experience an inexplicable rest in Christ today.
    The
words were not his own, and he could not have been more humbled by the fact
that God had used his lips to speak them.
    Soft
music began playing as Mark held the microphone to his chest, rocking from side
to side in the manifest presence of God. He could hear people whispering soft
prayers. Someone in the balcony began sobbing from the pit of her soul.
    Mother
Herndon started singing, “Oh, it is Jesus.” Robert picked her up on the organ
as her sweet voice caroled, “For I have touched the hem of his garment...”
    A
wave of worship flowed through the congregation as they all joined in the
simple, powerful tune. Valeria took the microphone again in the choir stand and
sang the verse. “I tried all that I could…”
    Without
prompting, people began to come forward and gather at the altar. Shoulders heaving
as they cried, hands lifted in total surrender.
    “Prayer
team, we need you,” Mark beckoned the warriors to pray with those who were
following an unction to meet Christ at the foot of the pulpit. Within minutes,
the altar area was filled with people praying for one another.
    “Right
where you are,” Mark moved with the Spirit, “if you need to pray with somebody,
just ask your neighbor. Ask them to pray with you, ask them if you can pray for
them. Saints of God, let’s edify one another in Him right now.”
    He
lost track of time in the Spirit and thoroughly enjoyed every second—or
minute?—of it. However long it was, it hadn’t been long enough before
Rev. Kit took the podium and brought the impromptu worship service to a close.
“Amen, amen. You all can go back to your seats now in Jesus’ name. Amen, amen.
Let’s continue on with the message. Amen, and amen.”
    Jonathan
appeared at Mark’s side, holding out his arm, directing Mark back to the
pulpit. The sudden, unwelcomed jolt back to the program left Mark feeling
confused. Actually, drunk was probably a better word. He wondered why on earth
Rev. Kit had quenched the move of God in the building.
    Lord,
show me what to say next .
    And,
almost audibly, he heard the reply in his Spirit: Nothing.
    Mark
whispered to Jonathan, “I’m finished preaching.” He turned toward the side exit
doors.
    Jonathan
rushed to his side so that their conversation couldn’t be heard by the
congregation, which was settling back into their seats. “But, sir, there’s
twenty minutes left in the service.”
    A
righteous anger rose up in Mark. “Tell Kit he can take it from here.”

Chapter 11
     
    Mark
gave a short reply to the texts from Marshall and Kit requesting a meeting
Sunday evening. In all caps, he typed: BUSY WITH FAMILY. Mark refused to answer
a call from Rev. Jackson, who never texted.