After the Outpouring: When Preferences Get in the Way

If I were designing an Outpouring, I’d start by having it in a large city, not a town with a population of 6,000. I’d put it in a large venue with lots of parking and plenty of restaurants within walking distance. I’d have it in late spring, when it’s not too hot and not too cold. I certainly wouldn’t schedule it at the beginning of the semester in a town with two higher education institutions.

I’d bring in professional musicians and speakers, technology designed to be run 24/7, and toilet paper. Lots and lots of toilet paper.

I’d choose music that wasn’t too contemporary but wasn’t too traditional. I’d plan enough preaching but not too much preaching. I’d order the worship to have liturgy but not too much liturgy. Everyone would enjoy the worship services. (Lol. As if.)

I wouldn’t choose for Gen Z to be the leaders of an Outpouring. They don’t have enough experience with spiritual things like this… plus, the Boomers don’t trust them. And I certainly wouldn’t choose for it to begin at an institution… Gen Z wouldn’t show up.

*Image credit: Asbury University Facebook page*

It’s a really good thing I wasn’t tasked with designing the Asbury Outpouring. And it’s a good thing that no human was designing the Outpouring. God was at the helm and we were just along for the ride.

But here’s the thing: Most people I talked to said, at some point, “If only…”

“If only the music wasn’t so loud.”

“If only there were more altar calls.”

“If only there was a parking space for me to get to class.”

I was guilty of it too. There were times when I said, “If only this wasn’t at the beginning of the semester…” “If only leadership would…”

But one Facebook post that expressed such a sentiment made me laugh. I can’t remember exactly what it said (and I’m glad, because I don’t want to shame the person who posted it), but in its essence, it said, “Let’s pass out prayer books to all those waiting in line to get into a worship space and participate in liturgical prayer together.” This, mind you, was when my friends who were in the midst of the Outpouring plans could barely remember to eat, much less remember where stacks of prayer books were.

Hear me, now. I’m not poking fun at one particular way of worshiping God. And I’m not saying the Holy Spirit is less present in liturgy than in spontaneous worship; He’s equally present in both. But I wondered if this person’s Facebook post pointed to something many of us—myself included—are guilty of: we think we know how to experience God “best” and want to force that onto other people.

Most people, when offering suggestions of how to experience God “best,” are doing so out of a genuine desire to see others experiencing God as they have. They have experienced God in one particular way and they want to share that with others. Isn’t that a beautiful desire?

But at the same time, we limit our imaginations to think that God shows up best/most/in His truest form in one or two particular ways. And coincidentally, I’ve never seen someone advocate for a way that wasn’t their preference for experiencing God.

Because that’s the thing: we think that our preferences for worshipping God are the ways God shows up most fully.

This taught me a really important lesson from the Outpouring: God shows up in a myriad of ways.

One moment He’s showing up in the contemplative readings of Morning Prayer and in the next moment, He’s showing up in the chest-thudding drums of a crowded worship service.

The question we need to ask is: Are we limiting the work of God by trying to only meet Him in the ways that we want to meet Him?

I have preferences for how I’d like to meet God. I think we all do. God has created each one of us unique, with preferences and desires different than the people around us.

If, like me, you grew up in an individualistic country like the United States of America, you are used to everything being catered to you. One of the largest fast food chains in America literally says: “Have it your way.” It’s the American ideal: to have everything how we want it, when we want it, where we want it.

But that’s not the way God works. He’s not a glorified caterer who sees to our every need. He’s a personal God, no doubt, Who knows every hair on our head. But He doesn’t transform Himself to be the way you’d like Him to be. He’s transforms you to be the way He’d like you to be: perfect and holy, as He is perfect and holy.

In many ways, it was a good thing that the Outpouring happened so suddenly, so quickly that leaders were reacting to what God was doing, with little to no time to plan. It meant that leaders had to discern what God was doing and how He was doing it so that they could just steward it well.

It left no time for people’s’ preferences to get in the way. Instead, we all got to respond by showing up and meeting with God, however He was revealing Himself. Some days, it was in the quiet moments of Hughes Auditorium where Asbury University students were praying over Asbury Theological Seminary students. Other days, it was in packed worship services with worshippers singing at the top of their lungs.

My hope in this series of blog posts has been to look back at the Asbury Outpouring and share lessons learned so that we can apply them to the ordinary moments of life and faith going forward.

For the sake of clarity, let me share two ways I think we can learn from the preferences of the Outpouring:

1. Don’t let your preferences serve as a barrier between you and God.

Throughout the Outpouring, nearly everyone I talked to—myself included—shared preferences for how the Outpouring would go. Preferences aren’t bad. But when they stand between you and what God wants to do, they become a barrier for experiencing God.

I mentioned that I have preferences for experiencing God, particularly when it comes to worship. But if there’s something I’ve done “right” in my faith journey, I think it’s learning how to lay aside my preferences to experience God where He wants to meet me. I’m far from perfect at this, but I’m farther than where I was many years ago.

In fact, there have been years when I’ve worshipped in places where the worship isn’t my “preferred” worship style. And yet I’ve met God just as much as when I’ve spent years worshipping in my “preferred” style. It takes a willingness to lay down your preferences and just confess to God: “I don’t like this music/liturgy/space/etc. but I trust that You are here. Help me lay down my preferences to meet You here.”

I believe that’s a prayer God wants to answer.

2. There’s a time to plan and a time to respond.

Because the Outpouring moved so quickly and the leaders were only planning a couple hours at a time, most of the worship was in response to what God was doing and, therefore, wasn’t planned. But don’t mishear me and think that I’m denigrating worship planning.

For two years, my job was to plan and organize worship. I left that job with more of a conviction that the Holy Spirit is in the planning of worship than when I accepted that job. Time and time again, I would feel the need to plan something in worship that, during the service, I’d say, “Oh… I see what you were doing there, Spirit.” Or, more frequently, someone would come to me with an idea that I was skeptical about, only to see the Spirit using that idea to fit into a big picture of the season of worship we were in.

Planning and designing worship is good and holy work. But if we get so caught up in our own plans and preferences, we may miss what God is doing in our midst.

I get frustrated when I hear people complain about worship because it doesn’t fit their preferences. I want to point to those who are connecting with God and say, “Don’t you see what God is doing?!” As much as we’d like to have our choice about what kind of music or liturgy or lighting or preaching we have in our worship services, the greatest choice we have is this: Will you choose to join in the worship of God, or will you choose to let your preferences get in the way?

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