I was in Israel in November of 2011: Jerusalem, the City of the Great King, at the Wailing Wall. This was a moment suspended in time for me. A life long dream to offer prayers at the place where God himself declared His presence would always remain. (I Kings 9:3)
Finally, I was there. Waiting my turn to touch the ancient stones and offer my sacrifices of praise. There were many worshipers ahead of me, but I would be patient. Some causal observers came, stood impatiently for a chance to move closer to the holy wall, but grew weary with the wait and backed away. Not me. I inched ever closer, perhaps invading some other prayer-ors invisible "bubble,' while waiting and anxious to place my hands on the smooth stones of intercession. I noticed every small crevice was filled with small pieces of paper. Others before me had brought their written requests to leave in the cracks like sanctified mortar joining the giant stones in unity of purpose. I wedged myself between two other women that were also waiting for a space to participate as holy petitioners. Some were standing and others were seated in white plastic chairs that seemed to me oddly out of place. I edged closer to a small opening and extended my left hand over the shoulder of one dear lady dressed in a black skirt and blue blouse. My forward movement seemed to shift everyone to the right and the woman in front of me began stepping backward from the wall (which is the custom, to walk backward when leaving, never turning your back on the other worshipers) My heart beat faster as I slipped between two white chairs occupied by women holding prayer books and seemingly lost in their own sanctified silence. I had made it ! Placing both hands on the wall I began to intercede for the many that had asked me to carry their requests to Jerusalem. In my pockets were the written pleas from believers in the United States that wanted their prayers to become part of the structural composite of the Wailing Wall. Then "it" happened. With both hands outstretched against the smooth surface of antiquity, my head bowed, my voice low , I began to tremble. It was like a window had opened above me pouring out an unction to travail that cannot be explained, only experienced. It washed over me with such intensity that I began to cry, then weep, then unashamedly, I was wailing. From deep within my being the flood gates of heart rendering emotions opened releasing a torrent of tearful intercessions. And I was not alone. The amazing heavenly dispensation flooded over onto the woman on my right and the woman on my left. Both of these ladies stood up and began lifting their voices in unrestrained cries to the God of Heaven. We were suddenly awash in the Spirit of God, praying through us with groans that cannot be uttered. (Romans 8:26) I had a very real understanding that we were weeping for Jerusalem in the same manner that Jesus wept over the Holy City ( Matthew 23:37) Our spirits were simultaneously joined in a chorus of spiritual warfare that heaven itself instigated and approved. It was a holy and life defining encounter with the Spirit of God.
The Book of Malachi states that God will open the windows of heaven and pour out such a blessing that we will not be able to contain it. Most American pastors use this verse to prompt the people to come to the altar with their financial offerings, promising God 's favor in return. I would not negate the responsibility resting on the paying of the tithes as indicated in the Third Chapter of Malachi. I would suggest that when the windows of heaven open, it is not gold that is poured out, but the most precious Spirit of God that floods our souls to the point of over-saturation. It, the Spirit of God, will literally change the atmosphere of our lives and our environment. May we all yearn for His presence, pray for His will, and live in the expectation of the abundance of His Spirit. Amen.