John Bevere - What Keeps Your Heart from God
- Watch
- Donate
I went to work for this church, and you have to understand, I was raised in Michigan, so I’m not a Dallas Cowboys fan, and I know none of you are either. But, you know, I’m in Dallas now. Okay, so why don’t you just substitute Dallas for Pittsburgh? I go to work at this church, and man, the guys are constantly talking about the Cowboys. The Cowboys were really good back then. I kind of felt like I was on the outside looking in. So, I started watching the games, and they didn’t capture my interest too much. I’d watch a quarter or two, but then I started watching more and more. I began looking up the stats so I could intelligently talk with all the guys in the office when they were sitting around every morning discussing the Cowboy game. I started getting into the stats, and I started getting into this.
Now let me revert back to my senior year at Purdue. During my junior and senior years, we had season tickets to the football games. When I got saved my sophomore year, the next football season came, and I had season tickets but never went to one game. You want to know why? Because the fraternity house was empty, and I wanted to spend time with God. I had nothing against football games because my senior year, I went to a lot of them. There was nothing wrong with going to football games—that’s what it was like in college when I was on fire, you understand?
But now I’m working for this ministry; we have 400 employees, I’m watching these Cowboy games, and I’m starting to engage in discussions as time goes by. I’m getting more and more hooked on the Cowboys to the point where I’m now the one leading the discussions. The next season comes, and I’m telling you, we get out of church, go home—I’m sitting back then in a suit because we all wore suits. The Cowboys are on, and I’m saying I’m going to stay in my suit until halftime because I can’t miss one play. If Lisa needs help with the babies, changing their diapers, I’ll say, «Honey, not now! Halftime, maybe let them have the poopy diaper until halftime.» I’m watching this game; we did not eat dinner until the game was over. I am hooked! If anybody asked me to go to a Cowboy game, I was there. Now I’m leading the discussions; I’m the ringer. I’m talking about the draft—I know all the stats. I am a Cowboy fanatic.
So now we head to the next season, and I pray what I thought was a real simple prayer. I actually prayed it half-heartedly; well, I guess I prayed it a little more sincerely. I said, «God, I’m asking you to purify my life; if there’s anything not right between you and me, take it out.» I had no idea what I was praying. We’re in all the games, but now the next game of the year is on—the Cowboys versus the Philadelphia Eagles. The winner goes to the playoffs; the loser stays home. It is the most crucial game of the season. The Cowboys have the ball in the fourth quarter, but they’re behind by four points, and they’re driving down the field. I am on my feet in the living room, talking to that TV. My wife is somewhere in another part of the house because she doesn’t want to be part of this. I am yelling at them for bad plays, going crazy over the good plays. There are eight minutes left; they’re driving, down by four points. I’m like, «Man, I know they’re going to drive down the field. Danny White, they’re going to win this game just like they do all the time.»
I’m on my feet, and all of a sudden, this urge comes over me to pray. Do you know what I’m talking about? That uncomfortable feeling like something’s really wrong—"Pray, pray! Something’s urgent.» I recognized that feeling. Standing there, I said out loud—my wife can’t hear me as she’s in another part of the house—"God! God! There’s only eight minutes left in the game. I’ll pray as soon as the game’s over.» I said that out loud; the game keeps going. The urge gets stronger to pray, so I said, «God! I’ll pray five hours when this game’s over. It’s only six minutes left; I’ll pray five hours when this game’s over.»
The urge kept getting stronger. Three minutes left in the game, I watch the rest of the game—they won! I’m excited. I turn off the TV, go up to my office, and get down on the floor, ready to pray for five hours. I mean, man, I’m going to keep my word to God. There’s no urge to pray; it’s gone. I try to pray, but I can’t work it up. It’s so flat, so dry, so lifeless. I remember dropping my head into the carpet and saying, «God, if anyone would have asked me who’s more important, the Dallas Cowboys or Jesus, I would say Jesus is my Lord. I just proved who’s more important. You needed me, and I watched the rest of that game.» You know what I heard the Holy Spirit say? I heard it so clearly: «I don’t want your five hours of sacrifice; I want your obedience.»