How I Discovered That Jesus Really Wants a House-of-Prayer-Church

"God does nothing but by prayer, and everything with it." --John Wesley

I was convinced early on in my journey of faith that the above quote from Wesley was indeed true. This is how.

First, somebody somewhere told me about Jesus being a Passionate Lover--a Bridegroom--and that His presence could be more pleasurable than drugs, sex, and any other worldly pursuit. With childlike simplicity, I believed it. I began to spend time with Him alone on a sunny bench in southern California near my university dorm room. I would read the Bible and pray. The Bible was confusing, to be sure, but every once in awhile a verse would make sense and feel slightly relevant to my life.

Prayer and worship, though, became the sweet spot. Perhaps the book of Isaiah did not offer me much in my early days as a Christian, but focusing on the beauty of Jesus and His love for me in worship never failed to produce gratitude, desire, and joy in my heart. I discovered the truth of King David's words, "In your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore." (PS 16:11)

I started to see massive changes in my thinking, emotions, and life in general as a result of these daily times in God's presence. I became adamant about the fact that, on a personal level, Wesley was right, and nothing happens without prayer, and anything can happen with it. I saw little miracles happen every week that seemed directly connected to my prayers.

The year after that I became consumed with reading books on revivals. I was addicted to the stories of God's power and love breaking into the hardest and darkest places and changing the worst of sinners into the most holy of saints. It didn't take long to notice a pattern that preceded every historical revival: humble, repentant, corporate prayer. It didn't need to be thousands; it didn't even need to be hundreds. They certainly didn't need to be famous or ordained for the ministry--in fact, they usually weren't. On the contrary, it was most often a tiny group of nobodies, crying out to God for a movement of His Spirit in their lives, families, and nation. These nobodies seemed to be very aware of their own shortcomings and need for God, and long hours of devotion turned their hearts into lowly stables into which the glory of Jesus could be born.

Inspired by these stories and egged on by more current preachers of prayer like Lou Engle and Mike Bickle, I turned to corporate prayer in my new pursuit of revival. Upon returning home to Visalia in 2005 I energetically searched for prayer meetings where I could join with others to cry out to God for it.

To my shock, I couldn't find any.

Churches didn't seem to have prayer meetings, period. The disappointing exception was the "pre-church prayer" that occurred for about 30 minutes before the Sunday morning service, often dominated by conversations rather than any type of heart felt supplication. However, I did find a group of old ladies, not affiliated with any particular church, that met on Tuesday nights to pray--hallelujah! Thank God for the Tulare County Watch and those peculiar intercessors. They must have been ecstatic to have a kid like me join them every week, and I was equally excited to see that somewhere in my hometown people still believed that prayer could move mountains.

There was one other highly significant twist in my story that sealed my conviction about the utter priority of prayer. It started when I heard the "prophetic history" of Kansas City's International House of Prayer. Mike Bickle, in his matter-of-fact fashion, told almost unbelievable stories of prophets predicting comets and earthquakes and the fall of communism before any of these things happened, all with the purpose of highlighting one seamless message: that God was raising up a worldwide prayer movement in this generation that would lead to the greatest missions movement in all of history and ultimately bring about the return of Christ.

Heady, epic stuff, to be sure, but it didn't really sink in until I read the book Red Moon Rising by Pete Greig. Completely unrelated to Bickle's stories and house of prayer, Greig pens his memoir of becoming the unsuspecting leader of a prayer and mission movement in the UK. I wept through most of the book, finally seeing that the global prayer movement was not something that belonged to any one man or ministry--it was the hand of God and a sign of the times. God was gearing His church up for the greatest harvest in all of history, and His first task was to set His people in the place of prayer. I was undone. I had my own Isaiah 6 experience, crying out, "Send me! Send me! Let me be apart of this in my generation, Lord!"

God has granted that prayer. Since that time, I have had the opportunity to attend weekly prayer meetings for the vast majority of the past 15 years. Sometimes I lead the meetings myself, but whether I lead them or not matters nothing to me. My desire is that somebody would lead them, because "God does nothing but by prayer, and everything with it."

In Matthew 21, Jesus enters the temple courts where vendors have taken over the Gentile place of prayer and turned it into a bazaar of religious merchandise. Fueled by righteous anger, He begins to turn tables over and call out the people in charge of them as thieves and robbers. With eyes of blazing fire, He declares, "My house will be called a house of prayer" (v.13).

When the church degenerates into a money making business with no space to encounter the living God, Jesus has no problem with turning the whole place upside down. Relationship with the Father is why He died, and He will push and pull His people forward until we operate as a house of prayer once again. Jesus isn't worried, though. His declaration in Matthew 21 is more than a vision statement--it is a prophecy. His house will be called a house of prayer before He returns.

In Luke 18 Jesus tells a parable of a widow and a judge "to show them that they should always pray and not give up" (v.1). A lowly widow approaches a wicked judge to ask for justice. At first the judge declines simply because he has no regard for right and wrong. When the widow refuses to stop coming, though, he finally becomes so exasperated that he gives her what she wants. Jesus utilizes this odd story to show the power of persistent prayer. He makes the point that even an unjust judge can hardly resist perseverance--how much more will a just God answer the prayers of those who keep crying out to him "day and night"? (v.7) At the end, He asks a stunning question: "However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?" (v.8) The implication is that Jesus will be looking for something upon His return. He is looking for those who pray night and day, and do not give up. He is looking for His house to be a house of prayer. The question still lingers, and we must ask ourselves: As we near the end of the age, will Jesus find faith here, in our city and in our nation? Will we be a people of prayer?

If so, all things are possible. The sick can be healed. The hardest hearts can be saved. The orphans can find their rest, the races can find reconciliation, and Jesus will return to a united, strong, and pure and spotless bride. If, that is, we humble ourselves and pray.