The People’s Revival

I launched a ministry in South Dakota in the early 2000s between the Yankton Sioux area and Pine Ridge. I didn’t launch a ministry to the Native folks, or to “save the rez”, I just reached out to people, people who are overlooked. 

I ended up doing a lot of revival meetings in South Dakota and Nebraska, and there are some incredible folks hidden down dirt roads in this country. I’ve preached at tent revivals and Grange Halls all over fly-over land. 

I know them, and they have always gotten my directness. 

Because of my walk with God and my own traumas and oddities, I’ve always been someone that folks feel like they can tell anything to, and they can. I’ve seen it all, and I’m sure that if there were scales, my good wouldn’t outweigh my bad. 

So I don’t judge anyone’s struggles and “sins”, how could I? I’ve been around the world, and I’ve seen wonders, but I know to doubt above all things the sincerity of my own heart. 

So, folks open up to me. 

In South Dakota, I had preached a three-day revival in a very small town, maybe a half hour from home. Afterwards, a thin young girl shyly made her way over to me and asked if I’d be open to visit with her. 

She comes over the next day, still wispy thin, and dressed like this only way that a poor girl can sometimes; a simple sundress with an oversized purse. We sit down at the table, coffee is poured, and we start to talk. 

She had been abused pretty badly, and we started to talk about that, me letting her tell me about the deep dark story by story, her downcast eyes flitting to my face as she checked for some reaction, some flinch, that would show her guilty. 

When we got down to the bottom, she went quiet for a moment before taking a breath to tell me the bad thing. She had gotten pregnant and had hidden it. She came to term early and the baby had been stillborn in her room. She cried, and I cried with her and hugged her. I had assumed that we had reached the bad thing that she was desperately hiding from the world. 

But she wasn’t done. After a moment, I asked her to go ahead, I was in it with her now. And that was when she admitted that she didn’t know what to do with the body. So, I start offering options for her with the State, yada yada, and I asked if the baby was still in her room. She said no, it’s right here. I asked what was right here, and she pulls out a Ziploc bag and lays it on the table. And there it was, her poor baby. 

She hadn’t known what to do, or who to call, or anyone who would sit with her in the deep dark. 

As gross as you might find that story, let me point you to a deeper truth – you have a dead baby hidden away too. The church taught you to hide it, society taught you to hide it. 

But God sees your dead baby plain as day. And for you, listen to me right now, wherever you are, and no matter how bad it is in the deep dark for you – you can’t shock God. Believe me, he’s seen worse. And no matter how shameful it feels, you can’t fall further than his reach. 

I know, I’ve tried. 

So tell him about your dead babies, and ask him to sit with you in the deep dark. He will. I promise. 

And if you ever need to talk, I am personally here for anyone. I won’t judge you, I want nothing from you, and there’s no church to join. 

Just me and my best friend. 

I love you to death. 

JC