Monday Morning Musing: Of Revival & Transfiguration

Revive Us Again: Transfiguration and the Asbury University Revival

Growing up in the American South, it’s no surprise that revivals were a part of my religious upbringing. Although our family was Lutheran, we worshiped most Sundays, and Wednesdays, at Sulligent United Methodist Church. During revivals, we worshiped there other nights, too. On occasion friends and boyfriends would invite me to the revivals at their churches. Nothing says hot date like going to a revival!

All of this is to say that revivals were a part of my faith formation from about my twelfth year of life until I left home for college.

My memories of revivals are of stern, old, white, male preachers, sweaty in their polyester suits, preaching up a storm, as folks would say, in the middle of a hot Alabama summer. More fear, more hell-fire than our usual pastor (who I much preferred). I remember singing the same hymns we usually sang while gathering for more pot-lucks which, believe me, in this small Alabama town, was a gift from God if there ever was one. It also meant I got to hang out with my friends, at least my Methodist friends, more than usual, and I was glad for that too.

At Asbury University, and some other universities as well, there is an ongoing revival service happening. I’ve watched some of the livestream and some of the videos posted on social media. There’s no stern, old, white, male preacher sweating up a storm from the presence of so much hellfire. At least not that I can see. Mostly, I’m seeing a crowd of younger, white people, gathered and caught up in the Spirit. Which, to be clear, is not a criticism. There is enough of that going around these days. (As one of the people who helps plan worship for a seminary community, trust me on this, there is enough criticism to last for several lifetimes.)

And, to be clear, this isn’t my own preferred style of worship or the theological understandings or liturgical practices usually found in my tradition. But that doesn’t make it any less holy or meaningful for those who have gathered. I also wonder how many have made their way to these spaces because they are searching for some sign that, contrary to all outward signs, the world is going to be alright. It certainly seems that this sort of blessed hope is present there.

And, I also wonder about who isn’t there. Why isn’t there more diversity? Asbury is also in the south and I KNOW there are people there whose skin isn’t white. But the revivals of my childhood were also very, only, white. And what of the LGTBQIA+ community? Are they there? Are they safe? Would they be welcomed without judgement and loved and affirmed in their fullness? I don’t have answers, but these are my questions.

I also have questions about how this gathering/revival/chapel service ends. Will they finally tell the people they need to empty out the trash bins and vacuum? Or will they invite them to take what they are finding there back to their own communities? Again, I don’t know, but these are my questions.

Part of the success of the revivals of my childhood were how many people were “saved”. I can remember, even as a middle schooler, telling the sweaty guest preacher that I was saved in my baptism and that God had done this and it didn’t depend on me. Even then, my sacramental understandings were pretty sound (thanks confirmation teachers!) So, I acknowledge that while I don’t believe that our salvation is found in emotional mountaintop moments, it doesn’t make them bad. On the contrary; we need more of them. More of that strange heart warmth described by John Wesley. More of whatever it is that has drawn all of these people to a small university in Kentucky to stand and sway and sing.

More, in fact, of what Peter experienced on a mountaintop with Jesus, which was so profound and meaningful and quite literally awesome that he wanted to build some dwellings and stay there forever.

But it was Jesus who told him that they couldn’t stay there. Because there was dirty, hard, costly work to do. Work that Jesus was clear about in the Gospels. He never let anyone stay together worshiping as long as there was suffering in the world. He always sent them out, no matter how desperately they wanted to linger behind closed doors together and sing. I’ll bet he’ll do it again in Kentucky. But while they are gathered, I give thanks that God is doing this thing in their midst, that revival is happening, and that I’m able, from this far away, to pray with them in ways that remind me that the depth and breadth of God’s love is more than we can imagine and, regardless of how we worship, all that we can cling to.

I am not familiar with most of the praise and worship music being sung in the Asbury gathering, but I remember with clarity, the old time hymn of the revival of my youth:

1 We praise thee, O God, for the Son of thy love, for Jesus who died, and is now gone above.

Refrain: Hallelujah! Thine the glory, hallelujah! Amen! Hallelujah! Thine the glory, revive us again.

2 We praise thee, O God, for thy Spirit of light who has shown us our Savior and scattered our night. [Refrain]

3 We praise thee, O God, for the joy thou hast giv’n to thy saints in communion, these foretastes of heav’n. [Refrain]

4 Revive us again, fill each heart with thy love. May each soul be rekindled with fire from above. [Refrain]

The ongoing revival service at Asbury University