Unhinged

by guest blogger JoAnne Meckstroth

It was the first day of Passover. As was my habit, I symbolically smeared oil on my doorpost and prayed protection over my family and nation. Then I turned my thoughts to Pentecost and prayed the fire of the Holy Spirit would reignite and transform God’s people.

That night, I had the same dream three times. Each time, an angel shook my shoulders and shouted, “Unhinged. Unhinged. Unhinged.” I struggled to understand what God was trying to say to me. Then I realized that our nation had become like a door missing its hinge pin. We were a nation unhinged and hanging askew.

Since the corona virus pandemic arrived in America, our nation has come to a standstill. Like the Israelites on that first Passover, we sanitize our homes, self-quarantine and wait for the silent enemy to pass over.

All the while, three words echo around the world:

Lockdown.

Social distance.

Mask your face.

Some wonder if the viral infection is God’s judgment or one of Satan’s schemes. But the words themselves reflect the answer. Lockdown implies imprisonment and Satan loves taking captives. Social distance requires separation and Satan is the master of division. Wearing a mask hides mouths and Satan strives to silence the truth.

And still, he expands his agenda.

One policeman’s brutality against a black man launches a racial war. Black men weep. Mothers wail. Children fear. The people grieve as the gates of America dangle on their hinges.

Will America ever be the same?

America may never be the same, but I believe it will be better. Lockdowns won’t prevent God from setting people free. Social distance rules won’t stop God from building relationships. Masks won’t stop God from calling us to be a voice.

I believe my dream was a warning to the church to wake up and repair the spiritual doors in America. Our constitution’s foundation stones were God, church and country. In our early years, people hungry for God would linger in prayer until heaven burst open and the presence of God fell, just like at Pentecost. It wasn’t a choreographed event. It wasn’t a slick presentation. It was raw glory. It was church.

The body of Christ has unfinished business. As Lee Grady wrote in a post on June 8, 2020, the church hasn’t cried yet. Our hearts haven’t broken over the social, racial, and political issues that plague America and the church. Only tears will soften and neutralize any arrogance.

I believe the missing pin in my dream represented the Holy Spirit. To slip Him back into the hinge is to invite the Holy Spirit back into the church—to open a door of revelation and slam shut the door of Satan’s destruction.

So pray, church. As Lamentations 2:19 implores, “Arise, cry out in the night, at the beginning of the watches; pour out your heart like water before the face of the Lord. Lift your hands toward Him for the life of your young children, who faint from hunger at the head of every street.”

Let’s slip the pin of the Holy Spirit back into place so we can hang right, live right and swing right once again. Then we’ll be able to say America, “Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Don’t panic. Don’t suffocate. We will survive and revive.”