Sufficient Evidence

by Vicki Dearing
Summer 1999

My family did not attend church except on holidays, and even then we would go to the non–denominational church at the Air Force Base. The services were nice, but God's existence did not seem real or even possible to me as a little girl.

When I was in the ninth grade, a girlfriend invited me to a "week–long revival" at her church. At the end of the week, the speaker gave an altar call, and I became hot inside and a little choked up. With rubbery legs, I found myself moving toward the aisle, and the following Sunday I was baptized. The rest of the day I felt like I had indigestion, and my dad joked that it was all that sin leaving my body.

I still wasn't sure about God, though. I couldn't imagine that Jesus would have the time to be my "personal" savior even though I had orally confessed this belief to the whole church. I sporadically attended church throughout high school and college mostly due to a guilty conscience from all the partying I was doing. I had a sense of wonder and reverence for God but I still had my doubts.

I met David in law school, and I became an Episcopalian while we were dating. He was much more religious than I and his grandfather was even an Episcopalian priest. The church we attended as law students in Alabama was very traditional, and I really liked watching people taking communion. There was something very touching about it, but when I took the cup and ate the bread I never thought of it as Christ's body and blood being poured out personally for me.

All the while, David kept telling me that his Episcopal church back home in Jacksonville, Florida, was a little different from the one we attended in Birmingham. When we were engaged, I went home with him and attended his church. I was shocked and a little uncomfortable with the people raising their hands and singing their own praises to the Lord at the end of the praise and worship time. Everyone was singing something different to the Lord, and although I had to admit it sounded very harmonious and beautiful, it was still too much for me. Besides, I had a conservative image to uphold as a new lawyer in a downtown law firm.

Because my husband had worshiped there all of his life, I thought I'd better stick it out. He was a lawyer, and he didn't seem to mind all the hoopla. I told myself I'd adjust.

During that year, the sermons often referenced the Holy Spirit and how He convicts and cleanses us and then leads us to Jesus to heal us. Finally, He equips and empowers us to minister to others.

I was confused about this Holy Spirit person, and I did not have much of a prayer life so I didn't know how to ask God about this. In fact, I was still praying, "Now I lay me down to sleep ... " So my earnest prayer simply became, "Lord, if you are real, teach me to pray so that I may get to know you better."

Soon, I began having dreams that I was praying in a different language. This really scared me. I didn't want to "speak in tongues." Although I knew it was Biblical, I thought only fanatical, snake–handling Christians did that stuff. But the dreams continued.

I confessed my fear about this to my mother–in–law. I told her I had been asking God to help my prayer life but I didn't want a prayer language that would suddenly fly out of my mouth in the grocery checkout line. She laughed and assured me that would never happen and that I would have complete control over it. She said to keep praying about it and that the Lord wouldn't give me anything that wasn't good for me. She also said that I would have to make the choice to receive it, and she suggested I read The Holy Spirit and You, by Dennis and Rita Bennett, which I did.

Several weeks later, I was in my car on the way to a deposition in Gainesville, and I popped in a praise tape. I got that same warm feeling I had felt when I first asked Jesus into my heart, and I said, "Lord, I know this is something you must want me to have, and if you want me to have it then I want it, too, because I must need it." With that, I opened my mouth and just sang LA, LA, LA. All of a sudden out flowed the most beautiful language I had ever heard — rapid, beautiful words that I did not understand. My heart started beating so fast, and I was extremely excited because it was my first experience with the supernatural.

As I drove on, I brought to mind all the people I loved and prayed for them in this new prayer language. With each person, the prayers were different. I didn't know what to pray for them, but my spirit could intercede for them. It was truly amazing, as I knew no other language besides English.

That was six years ago, and I have never again doubted God's existence. Now that I know God better, prayers in English come easily, but I still pray in the Spirit whenever I need clarity or when I am afraid or frustrated. I especially pray in the Spirit when I'm not sure what God's will is on a particular matter.

I have a toddler and a nine–month old, and when I am too tired at night to articulate a prayer, I sometimes close my eyes and use this special prayer language God has given me, and I fall asleep feeling close to God. I also sing in the spirit to my children when I forget the words to nursery songs.

Not everyone needs a special prayer language to have a good prayer life. In fact, Paul says it is the very least of the spiritual gifts because it does not necessarily edify others and that we should seek spiritual gifts that build up the body of Christ. Yet for me, God graciously performed this miracle in my life to prove He wasn't too busy or too big to answer my simple prayer of "Lord, teach me to pray."

His grace was sufficient for me.

Vicki Dearing is a CHM prayer minister and the daughter–in–law of Director of Prayer Ministry Norma Dearing. Vicki is an attorney and received her law degree from the University of Alabama. She and her husband David, also an attorney, have two children, Andrew and Avery.