When September Ends

Hello, brothers and sisters. I pray that you are still awake and alert, longing for the appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ (Titus 2:13; 2 Tim. 4:8). At the end of last week, like many watchful believers, I was praying "Come, Lord!" more passionately and fervently than I can ever remember.

Now that the great sign of Revelation 12:1-2 has been fulfilled, it's not the time to go back to sleep. "Normal" is not an accurate description of the days in which we live. We are still in the High Holy Days...the "Days of Awe" on Yahweh's calendar leading up to Atonement. Many things are becoming clearer as hindsight turns to 20/20 vision. I am learning so much from others about Leviticus 25:8-10 and what could be the true last trump heard on the tenth of the seventh month, which will commence the year of Jubilee and our full redemption (c.f. 1 Cor. 15:51-52).

We're not out of the woods yet, but we can see the clearing up ahead! Hats off to the trailblazers and those on the front lines who are taking heat from the mouth of the dragon. It can be lonely on the leading edge, but you watchmen out there are standing firm and blazing ahead with courage. Thank you, thank you. May the LORD of hosts give you more confirmation as you continue to seek Him, humbly and patiently. As for the scoffers, doubters, hypocrites, accusers, and armchair theologians...

...I tell you, they already have their reward" (Matt. 6:5).

Since we are in this final week of September and nearing the 10th of the seventh month on the biblical calendar, I'm going to be doing something different with this post. This time it's personal.

There is a part of my personal testimony that relates to the month of September. Hindsight being 20/20 (and now the year 2017 being 20/20), I now see what the Lord was showing me during the darkest day of my life 12 years ago this month.

As Gary has skillfully shown in posts like "The Balaamic Prophecies of 2017," our sovereign God can speak through anyone whom He chooses, believer and unbeliever alike. Through humble submission and continual surrender to His will, it is possible to hear what the Spirit is saying.

Individually, we who believe can all be instruments in the hands of the living God, the One who turns our broken lives into a beautiful song of His grace. I testify to you today that the LORD planted a song in my heart when I was an unbeliever, and at that time, I did not fully understand. Years later, when I fully surrendered to the Lord, the song made more sense. And today, I'm overwhelmed by its potential significance.

I pray that this brief testimony will bless you and strengthen your faith in our soon coming King.


Backstory

I was born on July 21, 1986 in a suburb of Birmingham, Alabama. Both my mom and dad had children from previous marriages, all daughters, but I am their only son (I have a total of four sisters, and now I have two daughters of my own—help me, I'm surrounded!). My sisters and I were raised in church, and I definitely heard the gospel several times. No excuse for me.

In fact, not only did I have my regular Sunday School class at my local Baptist church, I also spent summers with my grandmother in Boaz, Alabama, where my younger sister and I went to Vacation Bible School. One day I remember being encouraged, no pressured, into going down the aisle and up to the altar to receive Christ. I did it, but then again, I had no idea what I was doing. We'll call that: Attempt at salvation #1.

When I was around ten years old, my parents divorced. Though I was too young to understand the full weight of my parents' decision, this event marked the beginning of sorrows for me and my family. Big changes were ahead. And the foundation that supported my world, one that had its flaws and fissures, was now crumbling and about to collapse.

My dad moved out while my mom kept me and my other two sisters in the house. Since the divorce brought with it shame and disgrace, my mom left the Baptist church and transferred us to the United Methodist Church. There I got confirmed and sprinkled. We'll call that: Attempt at salvation #2.

At this point in my life I was entering adolescence and the ever-turbulent middle school years. Going to church became less and less of a priority, and pretty soon we stopped going altogether. And so, I was released into the wild just in time for high school. As you might imagine, things didn't get much better for me.

Then came more bad news regarding my father's health. He was a Vietnam veteran (awarded a purple heart), a freelance portrait painter, and had been originally diagnosed with having severe asthma. However, one night when I was 11 or 12 years old, I remember going to the hospital to visit him and then riding back with my mother who was sobbing uncontrollably. She would later tell us that my dad would have to have a heart and lung transplant. In my mind, that was doable. No problem. Dad will pull through just like he always had before.

So I put that unthinkable scenario on the back-burner and moved on my merry way.

I soon picked up the guitar and joined a band while in high school. We called ourselves Beyond Me (yes, the irony of it is amusing). It was a garage band turned into something promising as we ended up playing in some major venues around the city. In fact, I was so assured of my eventual success as a rock star that I dropped out of college in order to pursue a career in music. Sure, my mom had cut me off of her financial supply, but I was prepared to work at the ice cream shop full-time and buy my own food at the grocery store. Hey, a kid can dream, can't he?


A Glimmer of Hope on My Darkest Night (September 17, 2005)

Things were cruising right along, even though I had my share of shake-ups and break-ups during the teenage years. Without the guidance and direction of the Holy Spirit, however, I didn't have a clue about relationships and how to be a godly young man. I was your typical lost youth, wandering aimlessly in pursuit of pleasure and the next party on the weekend.

The illusion of peace and safety all came to an abrupt end when I got a call from my mom one September afternoon, telling me to get over to Atlanta as fast as I could. My dad was in the hospital, and she told me he had "taken a turn for the worse." Even as I heard my mother say those words, I still believed my dad would pull through. The denial of reality was as thick as a brick wall, and I was not about to entertain the thought of losing him.

The LORD, on the other hand, had other plans. He is the One, after all, who gives and takes away. And on the night of September 17, 2005, I sat there beside my dad, who at this point was on a ventilator and unable to speak. Graciously, the LORD allowed all of my dad's children to get there before he passed. As a 19-year-old young man, I had many things racing through my mind, but mostly regret, confusion, and profound despair.

That night I had even reached out to one of my band mates for consolation. He was a die-hard atheist, the militant kind who devoured books by Richard Dawkins, and he told me that he would ask those around him who prayed...to pray. I thought it was a nice gesture from a guy who hated God, and I have prayed for him many times since coming to know the Lord.

I remember leaving the hospital with my older sister, who had driven me to Atlanta from Birmingham. We both got in the car and sat there in stunned silence. At that time one of my favorite bands was Green Day. I had been to their concerts, had their T-shirts, and learned to play the guitar by strumming along to their albums.

The moment my sister started the car, Green Day's newly released single "Wake Me Up When September Ends" was playing on the radio. My sis left the car in park, and we listened, because in that moment we needed hope. And since we didn't listen to Christian radio, God used Green Day.

Here's a part of the song penned by Billie Joe Armstrong regarding the loss of his father:

Summer has come and passed. The innocent can never last. Wake me up when September ends. Like my father's come to pass. Twenty years has gone so fast. Wake me up when September ends...

It would be two more years after that September night until I would wake up, but the Good Shepherd had been in pursuit the whole time. That song has been a part of my testimony ever since, because it fit my situation perfectly. Summer had ended, and so had my innocence. Like Billie Joe Armstrong, I had lost my father too soon. Twenty years went by before I could blink, and I wanted it all to be just a bad dream...

O' Death, where is your victory? O' Death, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Cor. 15:55-57, NASB).

I would grieve without hope for two years after my dad's death, but I was being drawn by the Holy Spirit. Looking back, I can see how he brought a fella by the name of Seth into my life when I enrolled back into a community college. Seth came up to me after class one day and said point-blank, "I've been wrestling with God about this, but He wants me to come over and talk to you."

I had never heard anyone talk like this before. At least, not directly to me. But those were not "normal" days back then. I was deeply wounded, empty, and puzzled. Self-medicating via drugs and alcohol wasn't working to relieve the pain. And I still yearned for the truth. Will I ever see my dad again? What happens to me when I die? What's the point of this life? All burning questions unanswered at that time.

But God stepped in. The LORD spoke through Seth that day, and this faithful servant eventually gave me his own Bible off the floorboard of his truck. He told me that I needed to read it for myself. So I did, starting with Genesis.

My mom had taken a job in Atlanta, and my sister had moved away from Birmingham as well. I was now homeless, but still hopeful. I had the good Book in my hand, a guitar, and a toothbrush. You know, the simple life—the life of a nomad. I soon found myself living in a basement, sleeping on the floor, but my mom pulled some strings and reached out to one of my high school buddies' parents. So, I went to go live with them until I finished school.

Most nights I would stay up until 1 or 2 in the morning, reading the pages of Scripture. As I mentioned above, I started in Genesis. I figured that's the way you read books. From cover to cover. And once I got to the gospels, that's when I grew in my understanding of Jesus and what he had done for me. I only had a Sunday School understanding up to that point, but I was getting a crash course on the truth—straight from the eye-witnesses who walked and talked with the Savior.

I remember one night in the Fall of 2007, I was up reading one of the gospels. The lamp was on next to my bed, and I was entrenched. I could literally feel the weight of my guilt and shame as I read about Jesus' suffering and death on the cross. After soaking in the words about His compassion and love, sacrificial death and victorious resurrection, I stopped, closed my eyes, and prayed a sincere heartfelt cry toward God. My desperation turned to hope as I recall praying, "I believe, I believe."

All of a sudden I felt the most intense power flow through me. It was like lightning through my bones. I also felt like I was being washed from my head down to my feet. It was so shocking to me at the time, that I looked around to see if there was an angel in the room! I had just witnessed something supernatural—this was an encounter with the living God!

After that, things would never be the same. When you are a "born-again Christian" who knows what it's like to walk in darkness, and yet you experience radical, internal change overnight—you tend to be excited and want to tell everyone you know about Jesus! But, as many of you know, not everyone shares the same passion and enthusiasm for the most controversial Name in the world.

Nevertheless, the Lord Jesus has been faithful to lead and guide me to where I am today. I am so grateful that He interrupted my life, even though that involved suffering the pain and loss of my father. I now have the assured hope of eternal life, and I was even allowed to speak to my dad in a vivid dream shortly after I got saved. And now more than ever, I am waiting to hear the audible voice of the Lord, the shout of the archangel, and the dead to awaken.

"I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me, even if he dies, will live" (John 11:25, HCSB).

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Brothers and sisters in the Lord Jesus Christ, we stand at the edge of eternity. We have been eye-witnesses to a major prophecy being fulfilled—a great sign heralding our full and final redemption. Keep your eyes fixed on Him, for there is no other hope. There is no other name given to us by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12).

When 9/23 came and went without much ado, there were mixed reactions. Some good, some not so Christ-like. While many celebrated the civil new year in Jerusalem, blowing trumpets and setting their hopes on good things to come, the humble hearts of those waiting for Jesus were torn. Torn because we know what lies ahead for those who dwell on the earth. Torn because we are still here and haven't gone home yet (Prov. 13:12).

Our brother, Barry Scarbrough, brought to my attention that Green Day played at the Global Citizen Festival in NYC on 9/23. I don't know if they played "Wake Me Up When September Ends," but I wouldn't be surprised if they did.* How fitting. On the day where the great sign (Rev. 12:1-2) appeared over the earth, Stevie "Wonder" takes a knee (Rom. 14:11; Php. 2:10) and Billie Joe Armstrong sings about an awakening at the end of September.

*Someone in the comments section below posted a link (here), which provides the band's set list and reveals that Green Day did, indeed, play the song as an encore on 9/23/2017.

Wouldn't that be something? Literally, the day that September ends is 9/30, the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur. You know this has got my attention. What if the song that pierced my heart on the night of my father's death was one of many confirmations of the imminent fulfillment of every believer's hope—the return of Jesus, the resurrection of the dead, the transformation and redemption of the living, and our entrance into the true holy of holies (Heb. 9:12, 24-28)?

Wouldn't that be something? I can tell you what I'll be doing at the end of this week. I'll be looking up along with all who long for His appearing.

...Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!" (Rev. 22:20).

Me and dad at the beach

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