The Germany Pull (I Am a Reformer)
11 years ago, during the Summer of 2003, I visited Germany. My high school choir had been hand-selected by pre-Grammy-award-winning composer, Eric Whitacre and the brilliance that is him, to be a part of his Paradise Lost opera chorus set to debut in Berlin. This would be second trip to Europe (still waiting on the third, and fourth, and fifth…) and after a 2-day stop in Switzerland which is absolutely stunning and prided for its status as the cleanest country in Europe, we spend the rest of the 2-week trip traversing the homeland of so many great men.
The first place we visited was the Black Forest and if you know anything about me, you know that this would be immensely important to, an avowed lover, reader, and writer of faerie tales since I could read. I remember renting and reading the entire tales from the Brothers Grimm the Summer (before?) 5th grade. (Very eye-opening let me tell you, Disney makes everything so pleasant!) I didn’t know that just six years later I’d be standing on the edge of the very wood mentioned and alluded to so frequently by the Grimm Brothers and others. I thought, beside the opera, and the shopping, and the castle-viewings, that this would be the highlight of my trip. But in retrospect, it wasn’t.
On that wondrous trip, I visited countless castles, fascinating museums, tragic concentration camps, and yes, fabulous stores. But one aspect of my trip would stand out forever I think.
We visited Bacchaus (Bach’s house, not the Greek god) and it was lovely. As we were in the nation on a musical errand, there was no way we could not do this. And after seeing his house, we traversed to the cathedral where he was employed as the organist. (Sorry, I don’t remember the name.) There had been a fabulous new organ installed in his time and the current organist graced us with a hymn while we were there.
As s/he played, our guide explained to us that this cathedral was also the place where centuries before, Martin Luther had preached his first sermon. He then quieted himself while we listened to the magic emanating from the organ.
It was so perfect, so ethereal, dare I say, so spiritual listening to it. I couldn’t express what I felt then and didn’t attempt to. I just knew it was beautiful.
Now, at the age of 28, I think I begin to understand what I felt so many years before.
Martin Luther was German.
John Huss (Jan Hus) was from Bohemia which is part of modern-day Germany.
The White Rose Movement took place in Nazi Germany.
And yes, Nazi-opposiong-reformer, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, was also German.
I am a reformer.
Sometimes you have to ask yourself which came first: the prophecy (or prophetic demonstration) or the realisation of it. The chicken or the egg. Would you have realised the call before it was prophesied or was it prophesied for you to realise it? Was it foretold or forthtold? We may never know, but we must always be grateful for however it happened.
Last month I had two interviews entirely independent from the topic at hand and both individuals, neither of whom know the other, both of whom barely know me, neither of whom I’d told anything (at the time) that God had shared with me previously, both prophesied the same thing:
I am a reformer.
I did know know this when I wrote Kingdom Mandates or Godly Government. I didn’t even really know it when I knew I was to write my next book on reformation. But I think my spirit did. How could it not?
The Word of God says:
God calls you from before the womb, before the very foundation of the earth. You just might not find out until much later. It might take a secular choir trip to Germany. It might take a certain book or two. It might take an interview with two completely different people on a completely separate topic. But once you know, you know. You can’t shake it. As my spiritual padre would say, “you know that you know what you know that you know what you know that you know what you know that you know.” (Say that 5 times real fast!) But trust me, when God wants you to know, you will. The only question at that point will be “What will I do with this calling?”
You can choose to not believe, then you would be guilty of a lack of faith (or at least of being a doubter) and without faith, it’s impossible to please God (Hebrews 11:6).
You can choose to run, but beware: if you run and refuse to accept the call of God on your life, you make yourself unnecessary. And why would an unnecessary person expect another breath from God when s/he will admittedly not obey Him?
I’m not trying to make God out to be some large, scary Deity ready to pull the plug on our life support the moment we displease Him. (If this were true, we all would have been dead a long time ago!) But really, why should you expect anything from God if He can’t expect anything from you? I rest my case.
Finally, you can choose to accept that call. No matter how insane it may sound, how unfit you may feel, how laughable others may think it. God didn’t give them the call, He gave it to you. And when it’s all said and done, God’s not going to ask them why they scoffed at your calling, He’ll ask you.
So preacher, baker, candlestick-maker, whatever your calling be: stand up, accept it, and own it.
I am a reformer.
Look out world..!