A Mysterious Wind

The wind picked up, and the rain fell. Soon it turned into a torrential downpour as a hurricane blew through south Louisiana. It’s one of those instances you never forget. The feel of the wind, the sounds of nature, and the ominous clouds gave the moment a unique sensation. The anticipation of hurricane winds carving a path of destruction always created a foreboding feeling in one’s bones.

The wind blew at other times, creating an entirely different atmosphere. It was always welcome during hot, muggy summer days. Having grown up without air conditioners, I longed for the refreshing wind. Sometimes I stretched my arms as though I was welcoming it as it blew across my body. The wind seemed to bring a sense of physical and psychological renewal.

That’s why I used wind as a metaphor for the Holy Spirit in my novel, Twice a Slave. Joseph Willis crossed the Mississippi River because of a mysterious wind that blew over his heart. He entered The Devil’s Playground because of the same wind. It was also a symbol of the Holy Spirit during Biblical times. Jesus told a religious leader that a person couldn’t tell where the wind came from and where it was headed. He then said that it was the same with the moving of the Holy Spirit.

Peter spoke boldly in Acts, “Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord…” (Acts 3:19). There are seasons of refreshing that accompanies repentance in our hearts. They are the winds of heaven-sent revival. When the mysterious wind of God blows across our hearts, everything changes. It produces a moment that will never be forgotten and provides direction for future generations.

I concluded Twice a Slave with Joseph Willis speaking to the leaders of the churches he started. Joseph pleaded with the people. The wind of God is how we made it here. It was not by might, nor by the power of our organization, nor the eloquence of speech, but by the power of God’s Spirit.” I lifted both hands and shouted, “That’s how we came here, and that’s how we must continue!” I looked upward. “Come, wind of God and blow across our hearts.” I collapsed as an eerie silence descended upon the congregation. How long we sat there, I do not know. But when another gust of wind blew through the room, everyone wept.

My heart-cry for this generation is for the refreshing wind to blow across our hearts, homes, and communities. When His wind blows, we’ll not only weep, we’ll change. May the wind of heaven stir our hearts and create an unusual atmosphere among God’s people. I look to heaven and cry, “Refresh Your people once again!”

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