Jesus, i am chasing after You

On today’s front page of the Austin American-Statesman is the story of a young woman who was viciously murdered in Austin, her body dismembered by a young man. They found her body in his West Campus apartment. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want out of my skin, it’s just all so enraging. So much we see and hear in the media points to a generation that is lost, that is full of perversion and darkness.

But then there is Jesus, the son of God I love desperately, whispering: there is hope. There is hope.

It’s 11:30 p.m, January 3rd. Students are silently filling in the grassy plaza outside of the Georgia World Congress Center in downtown Atlanta. The soft night sky glows gray, with streaks of colored light filtering from the outside stage. Students huddle together in a wind that gently blows, each holding candles soon to be lit.

Here are over 20,000 students full of the hope that Jesus brings. I’m standing to the side with Tracy, another intercessor, as the crowd moves in, and I’m asking in my heart for the Holy Spirit to blow through this gathering. I glance over and see Charlie Hall a few feet away, no doubt praying a similar prayer. I am glad he is here among the students for a few moments, catching this view worth holding onto.

Worship is beginning and candles are slowly being lit. A large wooden cross, a powerful symbol of God’s grace saved from OneDay 2000, is carried through the crowd to the front. It’s a breathtaking sight, the twinkling lights weaving a shimmering blanket through the darkness. I imagine the view from the heavens, of angels taking note. Thousands of pinpoint lights navigate their journey, as perhaps these same angels take flight and descend to places around the students.

You know they want to be a part of the precious worship that this body of Christ offers. The Spirit of the Living God is here.

The wind picks up and the temperature drops. I lift my hand to protect my little flame from going out. I am startled by the cross that is still on the palm of my hand, having forgotten about it from an earlier act of intercession our team did. Drawn in blue sharpie, it’s a reminder of the word from Isaiah 49:16: See I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands...

I watch the candle flame flicker in front of the cross drawn on the palm of my hand, then look to the crowd around me. Tears fill my eyes, as I am overwhelmed for about the millionth time to be a part of these days of His hope in Atlanta. He is so very real. I know these students will hold onto this time with Him in days to come, as reality hits them in their worlds at home. Let your love be strong in them, Jesus I pray.

I want to lift my hands to the sky as we worship. But I also want my candle to stay lit. It's already gone out a couple of times. Tracy notices my dilemma and sings quietly, "Hide it under a bushel...No!" She is making me laugh.

We begin to sing "Glory in the Highest" and the desire to raise my hands in worship wins out over keeping my candle lit. I lift my hand high with the cross inscribed on it to the sky. Jesus I know you are here. My candle burns steadily in my other hand and I close my eyes, not wanting to lose this moment with Him.

"So-who is like me? Who holds a candle to me?" says the Holy.

Look at the night skies; Who do you think made all this?

Who marches this army of stars out each night,

counts them off, calls each by name

-so magnificent! so powerful! -

and never overlooks a single one?"

Isaiah 40, verses 25,26 (the Message)