He's a Fixer!

One of my most memorable experiences since becoming apart of the Highpoint family took place about two years ago. The Chainbreakers Prison Ministry had arranged for the Gospel Choir from the Metro State Women’s Prison to come and minister in one of our Sunday Morning Worship Services. Personally, I had been under a heavy load that week I had been carrying around those problems all week long, even to church on Sunday, and it made it difficult for me to enjoy the presence of the Lord on that day. I felt like my problems were a little more than I could handle. Or so I thought. Here came a group of about 40-50 women who had been incarcerated for many different reasons. They all, presumably, came from different walks of life, different area throughout the state of Georgia, and each of their cases were unique.
Being born and raised in Detroit (the “Gospel Music Capitol”) and being one who has been in church all his life, I have seen many choirs sing/perform/minister. I have seen the best of the best, and the less that best. But before that day, I had never seen a group of people come together and singer under such conviction and sincerity. They sang two selections, Stir Up the Gift & an original song, written by the choir’s musician (who was also an inmate) called He’s a Fixer. This song was such a powerful selection. It talked about no matter what problems we were facing in life, that God has all power to fix the situation. That’s why we call Him a Fixer. Needless to say, the more I listened to these incarcerated women sing about God fixing their problems, it made my problems seem less and less traumatic. If they had the faith to express trust and belief in God working it out, surely I could unload my burdens and give it to the Master Fixer. Before they could end the selection, the tears began to flow down my face non-stop. As I motioned for the usher to hand me a napkin, I noticed that their was not a dry eye in the building, for the pulled at all of our hearts in ways they will never know or understand.
The songs came from the depth of these women’s souls and it was certain that they believed in what they were saying. As they returned to their reserved seats on the side and up into the balcony, I noticed that their were prison guards supervising and watching their every move. If they needed to go to the bathrooms, they required a guard to escort them. How awful this must be. To be in the house of freedom, the house of deliverance, the house of liberty and still be bound. There was one lady in the choir I took special note of and could not stop watching her throughout the duration of the service. She seemed to be really enjoying the presence of the Lord, I mean really, really enjoying herself. Every chance she got, she was up on her feet, throwing her hands up, rearing her head back and really giving it her all. You could tell she was really excited just to be in the house. The more service went on, the more it seemed to get “gooder and gooder” to her, and it almost seemed as if she was going to burst with excitement. She was all into the praise, all into the other music, and all into the Word. The prison guards seemed as if they were unmoved by her actions, but obviously one of the guards had enough of her antics. He politely walked down the aisle, walked to her row, tapped her on her shoulder and motioned her to step into the aisle. He leaned over into her ear, whispered a quick word, and she turned around and went back to her seat, but the expression of her face was not the joyful one that had been there all service long. She slumped down into her seat and there she stayed until the service ended. Although I didn’t hear what the guard said, I could only imagine that he asked her to quiet herself down because she was drawing too much attention. He simply reminded her that she was not the free women she felt like she was being in the presence of the Lord. He reminded her that once the service was over, and the music stopped, and the lights were turned out, she was still bound. She was still property of the state, and she was still his.
Isn’t this just like the enemy? When your soul is in bondage, the enemy doesn’t mind allowing us to “feel free.” He doesn’t mind us coming to church anymore. He doesn’t mind us dressing up and looking the part. He doesn’t mind the smiles on our faces. He doesn’t mind us hearing some good music, hearing a good Word, and enjoying a good feeling. Because he knows, and you know that you’re still bound and you’re still his. Just when you’re in service, you’re getting your praise on, you’re worshipping God, you’re thanking Him for not letting you die in what you’re in, you’re right there on the edge of your breakthrough, the enemy will kindly walked down your aisle, find your row, whisper in your ear and you’re reminded of where you were before, where you’d been, all the mistakes you’d made, all the poor judgment you exercised, the lack of wisdom in your daily walk, and your whole mood is crushed. The enemy has reminded you that you are still his.