Date: Sun, 11 Jul 2021 15:30:29 +1200
From: Ben Highlander <landingben@gmail.com>
Subject: Rivers of Living Waters

RIVERS OF LIVING WATERS

Chapter 1

by Ben Highlander

The young blonde twenty-something-year-old man stood in front of me with
his head bowed.  His eyes were closed and the lids fluttered, the
glistening drops of his tears framing his long, black lashes in liquid
crystal. A slight flush painted his already ruddy cheeks and a frown came
and went across his broad brow, as unnamed emotions coursed through his
chest and the Holy Spirit touched him deeply.

The gentle keyboard music in the background, with the worship leader,
softly singing "Come, Lord Jesus, come," provided the emotional cushion
for his obvious vulnerability. My voice murmured soothingly as I spoke in
tongues, paused, gently feeling inside myself for the words that Christ
was whispering to comfort the distraught young man.

After the sermon, ministry time had seen many people feel the freedom to
come forward and find comfort in an encouraging word spoken to them by
the willing and skilled ministry team. The message had been about Jesus,
seeking and finding the lost sheep (all of us) and retrieving us as we
are, not expecting us to be perfect before loving us.  Many listeners
would normally feel unworthy to receive ministry because they saw God as
wrathful and judging, but it was our practice to try and bypass legalism
in favour of grace.

I finally articulated aloud the sense that I received from waiting to
hear what the Holy Spirit was telling me for this young guy. "I sense
you may be feeling shame, a deep sense of disgrace, and Jesus wants you
to know that there is no condemnation in Christ Jesus." (Romans 8.1)

I was watching the expressions cross his attractive face and the muscular
hands that he held out before him were shaking slightly as he responded
to the accuracy of my discernment. I absently noted the glistening golden
hairs on his forearms that stuck out of the rolled-up sleeves of his
shirt. The veins that laced his hands and ran up along his arms into his
shirt caught the light. The tears that had previously only rimmed his
lashes brimmed over and started to trickle down his cheeks, trailing
silvery paths of heartache and desperation towards his plump, pink lips,
that pursed and trembled with emotion.

I ignored the discomfort in my pants as I laid my hand on the back of his
neck, feeling that the Father wanted him to know how deeply he was loved;
wanted to secure him as His son.

I spoke those words to this prodigal:

"The Father says to you: `My son, I see you exactly as you are, and I
love you. I have made you, and you are my passion, my desire. Receive my
love...! See, I wait with my arms wide open if you wish to return to
me.'" I felt the love that the Father experienced for him well up
inside me and my own tears started to dim my vision. My voice broke and
unimaginable love for this struggling young man quickened my heartbeat.

His body started to shake as the import of the words began to take
effect. As is often the case when I minister to young men, a deep sense
of fatherlessness often characterized their condition in a society where
men were not taught how to secure their sons, their own fathers normally
being sadly lacking in that department.

His short, bristly hair rubbed against my palm that was resting on his
muscular young neck, and once again I was dimly aware of the erection in
my pants. This often happened to me when I prayed for young guys, as I
had explained to my pastors, who knew that I had been in the gay
lifestyle before. But that was behind me, a legacy of a different era,
and as I stilled my mind to discern the voice of Jesus for this young
guy, I thought I felt that he needed a hug.

"Do you mind if I hug you?" I asked, and he shook his head and leaned
into me, his head on my chest, his arms between us as I pulled him to
myself, my left arm around his broad young back and my right hand still
on the back of his head, I whispered into his ear: "Jesus says: `My
blood washes you clean of all sin, cleanses you of all shame. What was
crimson shall be as wool; what was scarlet shall be as snow.'" (Isaiah
1.18)

His body started to shake with sobs and as I put my cheek against his
head, his short blonde hair smelled of hair gel, but I ignored the
pleasant fragrance and carried on being a representation of God's love
to him. I stood with my pelvis well clear of him as my body betrayed my
calling since I was determined not to dignify it with my attention in
such a Holy Moment such as this. Just then a young woman called Irene,
also in the ministry team, came up to us and joined in the ministry. She
leaned into my ear and said that the pastor, John, wanted me to come and
pray with him for another young woman who was manifesting a demon of
lesbianism.

I reluctantly released the young man in my arms with a: "Bless you man,
God loves you so much," and left him in the capable hands of Irene.

* * *

Later, when the service was over and everybody was having coffee, I was
approached by the young blonde guy I had prayed for. He had a mug in one
hand and a rusk in the other and he awkwardly smiled at me. His eyes were
still red and he looked adorable. My heart melted for him, as I
instinctively knew that he was deeply troubled.

"Hi there, my name is Danny, you prayed for me earlier." As if I could
already have forgotten the delicious joy of holding him to my heart and
sharing God's love with him. I shook his hand. He had a firm grip and I
was tempted to hold on to it for a while but was content to feel the warm
masculine contact transmitted through the brief touch. He was about 5ft 7
and quite muscular. Now that his eyes were open I could see that
unexpectedly for a blonde, they were a startling amber colour. He had
dense black eyebrows, which framed his beautiful eyes, which still looked
at me with deference. I was pastor after all, and at least ten years his
senior.

"Yes, I remember. I'm Doug. How are you feeling? Did anything I prayed
for you make sense to you?"

He ducked his head and nodded silently. I could see that his heart was
still quite tender, and I knew that when the Lord touched somebody,
especially when he poured his love into them, they often struggled to
come down from it straight away.

"It's ok Danny. Whatever it is, God knows, and as He told you, He loves
you anyway."

When he looked up again, his lashes were rimmed with tears again.

"I'm sorry man, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not usually
such a baby." He gave an embarrassed chuckle as he looked around for
somewhere to put his mug and rusk down. I helped out by taking them from
him so he could reach for his hanky. As he wiped his eyes and blew his
nose, I waited patiently, taking in the vision of this attractive young
man before me. In a different setting, he would look like a cocky, hunky
young buck with the world, and no doubt a whole bunch of girls, at his
feet. But here he had the liberty to be a vulnerable young guy with his
issues and problems, with no obligation to put on a front. That was one
of the reasons I loved being on the pastoral team of our church. We could
extend unconditional love to those that were the debris of a world that
would if it could spit them out after chewing them up.

"Thanks," he said as he retrieved his mug and rusk from me.

"The thing about the shame and stuff was just so spot on..." he said,
trying to look me in the eye and not quite succeeding.

"It's ok Danny, most of us have stuff that we feel ashamed about.
That's one of the reasons that Jesus died, so the Enemy wouldn't have
anything on us anymore. When he died and you received Him as your
Saviour, old Slufoot lost all his power of accusation against you." The
familiar words tumbled out of my mouth, and I could see that they were
having the desired effect.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. It's just that I can't help it. You
prayed for me, all right, and I feel better, forgiven and so on, but
then, just when I least expect it, the feelings are right there again..."
His face flushed dark red as he blushed with shame, realizing that he may
have said too much and given away his secret.

I knew that it could only be one of a few: masturbation, lust or sex
before marriage, and in the occasional case, unwanted same-sex
attractions. I had seen it all and knew how to put his mind at ease.

"Listen to me Danny, you are not your sin. The voice that you hear
that's telling you you're a worthless sinner isn't God's voice. Listen
to what he told you when I was praying for you, and remember that feeling
of freedom and safety. That's the Truth. Nothing else matters!" I put
my hand on his shoulder and my eyes looked into his.

"And when things get too hard for you to bear by yourself, he has given
us brothers and sisters to help bear the load. Remember that. James 5:16
says that if we confess our sins to another and pray for one another, he
will be faithful to heal us. Nothing is too bad for God to understand and
heal."

He swallowed deeply, his eyes still held by mine and I again felt that
familiar discomfort in my jeans. He turned around, as a woman who was on
tea duty relieved him of his empty cup and half-eaten rusk and when she
walked away, he literally flung himself into my arms.

"I'm just so scared that I'm going to be like this for the rest of my
life! What if God doesn't take these bad feelings away?"

It took all my willpower to release the sweet young guy from my arms and
with a hand on each of his shoulders, I once again searched out his
eyes.

"Danny, do you want to make an appointment with one of the pastors to
discuss what's troubling you? I mean it, you don't have to go through
this alone."

"Are you willing to see me? I feel like I can trust you."

"Sure Danny. Call the admin office tomorrow and they'll set something
up. I'd be glad to help.

"Thanks so much! I've gotta go... " His amber eyes flashed as he turned
and looked over his shoulder. "I'll definitely call."

I was looking forward to it. A lot.

* * *

"So how was the service?" my wife of four years asked. We were having
lunch.  She had stayed at home with our two kids; my daughter was twenty
months old, and my son was all of nine months. She was running around the
playroom like a lunatic and he was being cute in his high chair, his
whole face covered with Purity apple mush.

She knew about my past and had somehow been given faith to marry an
ex-gay man. I had told her on our second date.

She had been sitting across from me at the restaurant table. I remember
clearly what she was wearing. A tall woman, she had very considerately
worn flat sandals so as not to give me too much competition. The
conversation went like this:

"You should know that I was gay but now I'm not."

"Ok."

No questions, only that. She took my word for it. Of course, the story
was a bit more complicated, but not much.

I had always, since about the age of 9, been a Christian. There had been
various recommitments along the way, every time falling away and then the
next time deepening, until at the age of 31 one morning I found myself
saying: "Jesus, I admit that the Person I've been praying to, is You.
You know I'm gay. There is nothing that I can do about it, and I know
how You feel about it. So if you want me to change, You'll have to do
it."

 I suppose the fact that I broke off all contact with my gay friends and
threw myself into the activities at the church also helped. I joined a
home cell and quickly learned a whole different vocabulary based on
church life. One night early on while I was lying in my bed in a puddle
of perspiration, as often happened, I found myself starting to mutter in
a strange unintelligible language. I had never heard of "tongues" as it
was called by those in the know, but I felt the presence of the Holy
Spirit settle on me like a warm blanket and the discomfort of the
sweating stopped from that night onwards. I devoured the Bible, reading a
different, newer translation and it felt like verbal vitamins, food to my
body, mind and heart. Old friends said that my face and even my voice had
changed. I was literally a new creation. My homosexual desires were more
or less nonexistent, and after living as an out-and-out gay man for
twelve years that was saying something.

Of course, I realised it wasn't an overnight process, so I was content
to struggle with an unwanted same-sex attraction, knowing that this side
of heaven, I would most likely never be completely free.

That was a huge part of the message that we conveyed in our ministry to
the sexually and relationally broken, called "Living Waters". Joanne
and I had started the South African chapter of the ministry to assist a
couple in our church. Gavin had confessed to Mandy that he was messing
around with men on the side. They had divorced and he had married a man
who had recently died of HIV, a disease they shared. He had tended to his
husband's every need, even to the bitter end, as a huge tumour that he
had developed under his left arm just fell off one day, and a couple of
days later he was dead. I had conducted the service at his funeral and
had cherished the opportunity to comfort Gavin at the loss of the love of
his life. It was a precious privilege.

"It was good. Lots of ministry," I answered my wife's question. A
lingering picture of Danny's animated face as he looked back at me over
his shoulder flitted through my mind's eye, and I got another whiff of
his hair gel as I had my cheek against his head while he cried in my
arms. My tummy also remembered the flutter that I had felt when my hand
had rested on the back of his neck, feeling the strong young muscles
tense and relax as he sobbed his heart out. I shook my head and dragged
myself back to the reality of marital bliss.

"What's the matter?" Joanne asked. I hadn't heard her come up and
stand next to me.

"Nothing much. I'm just tired, is all. I prayed for a lot of people,
and it's great while it's happening, but afterwards, thud!" I
chuckled, stood up and turned to my sweet wife and pulled her into my
arms. She had bare feet so she was about two inches shorter than me. She
put her head exactly where Danny had rested his. I smelled her hair and
the familiar fragrance was reassuring. Her breasts, also, were familiar
and the softness contrasted sharply with the strapping chest of the
muscular youth that had entrusted himself into my care while I ministered
the Love of God to him.

"Are you sure that's all, my love? You seem far away." She pulled
away, her torso and her hips pushed forward. "You need something to take
your mind off things." It was clear where this was going. I leaned
forward and pecked her gently on the cheek.

"I'll be fine my darling. Besides, I need to prepare for tonight." I
was hoping that Danny would put in an appearance at the youth service
that I ran. I tried vainly to put his face out of my mind as I polished
my prep and wondered why the Lord had put him on my heart so forcefully.
Whatever the reason, I hoped that it would mean seeing a lot of him. He
was a pleasant young man, so innocent and bright.

The Holy Spirit always made a good-looking man look even better. Go
figure!