If I were Elijah I would probably be wondering if I'd heard God right. We're on Mt. Carmel with 450 prophets of Baal scattered on the ground exhausted, bleeding, and crying like babies and God wants me to dig a trench around the altar I've just rebuilt and fill it full of WATER? “Don't you mean FODDER?” No, water. And just dump it on everything; He wants it good and wet. (I Kings 18:20-40 if you need a refresher)
God didn't want to leave any doubt that when the fire fell from heaven and consumed the wood, stones, and bull (AND water) that it wasn't a magic trick or a freak of nature. No doubt.
It never seems to fail.
The things that go wrong are directly proportional to how much we prepare. We've selected a great bunch of songs, mid-week rehearsal was outstanding, and here we are on Sunday morning still trying to find the shorted mic cable. Or wondering what it's going to sound like without the electric guitarist who is home, sick in bed. Or why, today of all days, must there be a winter storm advisory (and it's JUNE!).
Did all the lights just go out?
So we pray. We pray for things to get fixed. We rebuke the alien noises coming from the monitors. We raise a standard against Satan and his minions who are trying to disrupt this great move of God!
Maybe God's just pouring water on the altar.
Maybe God doesn't want to leave any doubt that what is about to happen isn't because of how great our harmonies sound today or that inspiring violin solo or our new sub-woofers or the worship leader's new shirt or (fill in the tiny, insignificant blank).
And if we're too focused on the water, we just might miss the fire.
So next time it's Sunday morning and the keyboard's motherboard fries, or six PAR cans burn out, or the drummer's car won't start, just turn to your faithful team, smile, and say “I guess it's just water on the altar”.
