Bill Johnson - How the Holy Spirit Leads and Sustains You Through Grief
But this particular moment I’m in is not the result of me choosing anything; it’s simply about staying close, that’s it. It’s like there’s one gauge, one idiot light on my dashboard: the value of the presence. That’s the only thing that matters. All the other things are important, but the one thing I’ve got my eyes on is to live daily in a constant, as much as I know how, realization of the presence of the Spirit of God. He’s taking me into His seasons. This season that I’ve been in for a little while now—I like to talk about it occasionally so you understand what’s going on here—my season of mourning is no longer a season of mourning; it’s just moments of grief.
You don’t get to direct your seasons; you don’t get to say, «Well, okay, I’ve done this long enough.» It doesn’t work that way. But when you follow Him, you find yourself in places in God you couldn’t have earned, worked up, or somehow claimed your way into because it just doesn’t work that way. These seasons are relational; He brings us into seasons, into moments, into atmospheres. It’s only by following Him that we find ourselves there. You know, Jesus said He was baptized in water and came out, and the Spirit of God came upon Him. The Holy Spirit led Him into the wilderness. If the Holy Spirit leads you into the wilderness, it’s because you’ve been set up for tremendous victory. He doesn’t lead us into situations to be defeated; He leads us into situations to defeat the enemy in His name. That’s the design of things.
Sometimes, in this particular season for me, I find myself surprised by how happy I am in my heart, knowing that I know what it is to choose. I get that; I mean, it’s been a lifestyle I’ve tried, you know, the best I know how, to rejoice for the Lord. I believe that strongly. But this moment I’m in is not the result of me choosing anything but to stay close. That’s it. It’s like there’s one gauge, one idiot light on my dashboard: the value of the presence. That’s the only thing that’s there. All the other stuff is important, but the one thing I’ve got my eyes on is to live daily in constant, as much as I know how, realization of the presence of the Spirit of God because He’s taking me into His seasons. It’s just different, and I am so surprised by what I see Him doing—surprised and thankful.
There’s another passage, though, that I would hold in contrast to this. I’m asked a lot; wonderful friends around the world want to know how I’m doing, and that’s good. I don’t mind talking about anything at any time; I don’t hold anything back, but I also don’t broadcast. There’s this passage when the Lord spoke for Israel; He said that every man should gather according to each one’s need, and then for one person, according to the number of persons in your tent. It says when they measured it by omers—whatever an omer is; I know Barry Bonds had a lot of bummers, but you know, I’m just feeling really pitiful today. I think there’s a certain—I don’t know if I need coffee or if I’ve had too much; I’m not sure what it is.
Listen to this verse: «He who gathered much had nothing left over; he who gathered little had no lack.» The whole deal for six days of the week was that every morning they got up and picked the manna off the ground for their family. They couldn’t keep enough for tomorrow; they had to pick enough for just today. Then tomorrow, they had to re-gather, except the day before the Sabbath when they could pick two days' worth because they weren’t supposed to pick it up on the Sabbath. The Lord did this supernatural sustaining thing with the manna where it wouldn’t rot on the second day if it was for the Sabbath. It’s a bizarre story, but the point is that the manna was enough for each day, just as Elijah’s story was enough for 40 days. If you don’t recognize the season you’re in, you’ll either try to gather so much that it turns to worms—it’s a weird illustration, but just work with me here—or you miss the moment where the Lord speaks so profoundly to you that He’s actually creating a momentum that will take weeks, maybe months, to unravel.
Honestly, I don’t look at where I’m at and evaluate my season; I don’t. I’m not trying to be humble; I’m just not smart enough. I don’t get it. What I do get is His mood. I pick up on what He’s thinking, and I can recognize His presence. Afterward, I can look back and describe the season to you, but when I’m in it? Not so much, at least for me. You may get it, but I don’t. When it’s over, I can look back and say, «Oh, that was a season of…» and describe it. But here’s the thing to remember: if you define your seasons by your problem, you’ve already lost. The season is never about your problem; it’s always about the solution you’ll discover. It’s always about that additional step of expanding the kingdom, letting Jesus be more magnified, more exalted, more illustrated, and manifest in a given situation. That’s our life; we go literally from glory to glory, from one place of illustrating Jesus to another.