two words that change everything

 The road to revival is often paved with tears and brokenness.

Leonard Ravenhill

Saint Augustine wasn’t always a saint. He was an ambitious, arrogant, promiscuous young man with a vision of making a name for himself in the elite circles of Rome. He fathered a child out of wedlock and was controlled by pride and lust. He is famous for saying, "Give me chastity and temperance—but not yet!"

His mother, Monica, was a godly woman whose heart was broken by his prodigal ways. She had raised him in the faith, sought to instruct him in the way of Jesus, and urged him to turn toward the light. Nothing seemed to work. She began to seek the Lord for her son with holy desperation. Monica’s prayers began to run out of words. Her prayers turned to tears.

She would go to the church and cry out for his salvation, but nothing seemed to change. She would call upon the lord with no tangible effect. Her desperation increased and drove her to seek council from Bishop Ambrose as to what to do. He struggled with how to advise her on her agony of grief for Augustine’s soul. 

"At last, he grew impatient and said, ‘Leave me and go in peace. It cannot be that the son of these tears should be lost’" (Confessions 3.12)."

This response is one that has forged hope in parents of prodigals throughout history. Children of tears will come home. 

"The prayers of a righteous man are powerful and effective," wrote James. But it can also be said, "the tears of a parent are powerful and effective for bringing prodigals home." We must recover our ability to weep for this generation.

We have tried everything to help raise Gen Z. Meds, counseling, therapy, listening, affirmation, and care. But as a whole, things seem to be getting worse. 

Leonard Ravenhill tells a story from William Booth about securing breakthrough in one of his missions where there was steep resistance. Ravenhill writes:

"In my twenties, during a period of pastoring, I loved to go past the Salvation Army building, which was the largest one outside of London. There’s a huge block of stone at the front. Chiseled in one stone it says, "William Booth of the Salvation Army opened this corps," and then it gives the date of 1910. In a second stone it says, "Kate and Mary Jackson, officers in this corp."

It was in this poor city, where they spin and weave cotton into cloth and the whole town was on the poverty level, that Kate and Mary Jackson labored for a couple of years and nothing happened. Those girls worked diligently and went to bed exhausted at night. So they wrote William Booth: "Would you kindly move us to another station? We’re so tired and disheartened. We’ve tried everything that we’ve been taught to do. Please move us to another location."

Booth sent a telegram back with two words: 

"Try tears."

They did and they saw real revival come. Those girls went to travailing prayer, not just prayer, but travailing prayer, prayer with anguish in it.

For Gen Z, nothing we have tried has worked. Maybe it’s time to try tears.

Ask for tears for your children growing up in a godless world.
Ask for tears for a generation plagued with anxiety.
Ask for tears for the staggering rates of depression and suicide.
Ask for tears for a bride whose garments are defined by spots and blemishes.
Ask for tears for the slow decay stealing our light and joy. 

Last week, I drove down to the Asbury Outpouring in Kentucky. It was one of the most extraordinary things I have witnessed. The tangible presence of God, city-straining crowds, and students turning their hearts to Jesus. Many want the fruit of the revival, but don’t understand the price of revival. Asbury was paved with tears.

There has been a committed group of leaders faithful praying, weeping, and contending for a move of God at Asbury over the years. Behind the scenes of students cheering were leaders contending. Behind the hours of worship were leaders weeping. Long before the lines of crowds, there were heartfelt groans. 

Leonard Ravenhill says, "The road to revival is often paved with tears and brokenness."

If you need God to move in your family, try tears. If you have kids struggling to walk with Jesus, try tears. If your heart feels cold and your faith weak, ask for his mercy and ask for tears.

We have tried the best of human ingenuity, technology, psychology, and science, but nothing has changed our hearts. 

It's time we try tears.

Weep on brothers.

There is a cloud the size of a man's fist on the horizon.

Cheers.

Jon

P.S. Here is a link to a brief article on the kind of prayer that fueled the Asbury Outpouring. It’s written by David Thomas, a quiet, humble God-fearing man stewarding things behind the scenes. His talk at Asbury was the seeds for this email.