Lord, sweep me off my feet with Your wind, the wind of Your Spirit; The might rushing wind. The Nooma. The Ruach. Rush into me in Pentecost fashion, setting this heart ablaze. I’ll wait in Jerusalem for that outpouring of Your Spirit and dunamis power. Then I’ll know I’m ready to make Your name known.
And being assembled together with them, He commanded them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the Promise of the Father, “which,” He said, “you have heard from Me; for John truly baptized with water, but you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now" (Acts 1:4-6 NKJV).
The beauty of Your wind is that I can’t see it…I see its effects though. May I not chase Your wind, to grasp it with my own might…but I stand here, that Your wind may sweep me off my feet. I’ll fly. Oh yes! I shall fly. I’m gonna soar with You. And, soar as high as the heavens. I’ll fly with You. In the heights of heaven, I’ll be seated with Christ in hevenly places. As I fly. As I soar. The thing is, my feet are still touching the earth, but my spirit rises with You.
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