It Sounds Like God To Me

© Copyright 2007 by Phil Scovell - All Rights Reserved



                                      23

                        The Color Of The Holy Spirit


                                 Deep Purple


                              By Phil Scovell






          A  childhood memory  bothered me.    It didn't  hurt emotionally,
     well, not  exactly, that  is, it  wasn't a  traumatic experience.   It
     contained,  on the  other hand,  spiritual discomfort  that felt  like
     pain, at least that's how it felt if I were to describe it, and I just
     did.  Let me detail this memory  so you understand what I am trying to
     tell about.
          We were in  Danny's convertible, parked in the  driveway, and the
     top was up.  Danny and  another teenage friend from high school,  were
     in the backseat together, on their knees, trying to fix something near
     the back window of the car.   I can't remember what they were  working
     on any longer  but with Danny's car,  something was always in  need of
     repair.
          Dan was always careful how he talked around the younger  kids but
     his friend wasn't so accommodating.  He swore, in other words,  like a
     drunken sailor.  He was, of course, just trying to be funny and we all
     laughed at his continual stream of expletives deleted.  It made me, as
     a Christian, feel  uncomfortable.  Oh,  sure, I  heard plenty of  "bad
     language,"  used by  other  kids, and  adults,  but  this was  to  the
     extreme.  In  fact, he was using sexual terminology that I wasn't even
     sure I  understood.   Yet, everyone was  laughing, my  friend, Danny's
     little brother that  is, and Dan himself.   I didn't  want to be  left
     out, you see, so I laughed, too.  The cussing swearing teenage boy who
     was  helping Danny, got  what he  wanted, that  is, he  made everybody
     laugh, so he received  the attention he desired and I  suppose it made
     him feel important, too.  What I should have done is gotten out of the
     car.  I wanted acceptance, on the other hand, and plus, it wasn't just
     every  day that little 8 and 9 year  old boys were allowed to hang out
     with the big teenage boys.
          As  I began saying,  this memory returned  many many times  to my
     mind over the years  but I never knew why.  Not  until recently.  When
     the memory surfaced this time, I decided to find out why.
          Focusing on  the event,  I examined every  aspect of  the memory.
     There was not much there.  I've already describe to you what was there
     and  as I  focused  on the  memory, I  simply  could not  see or  hear
     anything  other than  what I  have  already described.    Yet, I  felt
     uncomfortable.   Something was wrong.  So I asked  the Lord to show me
     why this memory felt uncomfortable and what was wrong.
          "How did you feel," the Holy Spirit prompted.
          "Bad," I replied, "and like I was doing something wrong."
          "It wasn't  your fault," He replied in  my thoughts, "and you did
     nothing wrong.  Besides, I was there and heard and saw everything."
          "Then why does something feel wrong?" I queried.
          "Because something  was wrong," the  Holy Spirit answered.   "The
     teenage boy  was talking  in a  very unholy  way and  it bothered  you
     because you  are a Christian.   Christians  should feel  uncomfortable
     around such talk.   Plus, words have  meaning and effect upon  the one
     hearing the words.  I'm going to fix this memory for you."
          I  was curious  about all  this because  I never  once considered
     anything  specifically wrong  in this  memory.   Except, of  course, I
     shouldn't have  been there.   Although  the Lord  didn't  say so,  I'm
     pretty sure  the Enemy was using  this recollection to try  and accuse
     me, that is, to indicate that I,  as a born again Christian, passively
     complied  and was  a participant  and was  therefore guilty  because I
     didn't speak up.  Children, in those days, were taught not to speak up
     to those  who were older.  So, I remained silent.  I wanted to belong.
     There was, therefore, a measure of  guilt in this memory and thus  the
     memory returned  time and again to remind me,  "You aren't a very good
     testimony because you laughed and  didn't speak up for Jesus."   Satan
     always lies and he  normally mixes up some  truth in the lie as  well.
     Ask Eve if you doubt what I said.
          Waiting to see what the Lord was going to do for me, I mean, what
     could you possibly  do with such a  memory as this one?   I figured He
     would  just use words, or  a feeling, to  tell me, as  He already had,
     that it wasn't my  fault.  Besides, he made it clear  that He had been
     there the whole time so what more could He do.  I soon found out.
          As I watched the brief memory,  the compartment of the car filled
     up with an inky substance.  In fact, the substance, although  not like
     a smoke or foggy cloud, was more like some type of liquid, which was a
     deep purplish  color.    It filled  every  square inch  of  the  enter
     compartment of the vehicle.  It was more like purple jello.  I was now
     standing on the  outside of the car  by this time, and  looking inside
     the windows at the bodily shapes  inside.  Odd, though, I only  viewed
     three persons  now inside  the car.   I was outside  looking in.   The
     purplish inky substance, as I  mentioned before, totally filled up the
     inside  of  the  car  but  was  opaque  enough  to  barely  allow  the
     discernment  of three  figures inside.   Blocked  out were  the filthy
     language being uttered and the vocalized laughter, which was 
     silenced.   "So?" someone  is saying.   "So, the  memory had spiritual
     morphed into an exact reproduction of the event but now I was standing
     outside the vehicle.  I could no longer hear the words or the laughter
     and I was no longer involved  by being inside and feeling trapped  and
     unable  to get out.   Plus, as  I attempted to  view the interior, the
     purplish liquid type  substance not only fills the  compartment but as
     it appears,  the words are  silenced and  the people  inside are  only
     mentally identified and not truly seen.  Well, the Holy spirit said he
     would take care of it  for me and I guess He  has.  Praise God.   Now,
     whenever this memory  returns, I see what I just described and not the
     original event  because the  memory has  been renewed.   I  am on  the
     outside, no longer trapped  or guilty, I no longer hear  the words and
     feel the laughter, I  no longer feel as if I were a participant, and I
     see what Jesus sees.
     23  And be renewed in the spirit of your mind; 
     24   And that ye  put on the  new man, which  after God is  created in
     righteousness and true holiness," Ephesians 4:23-24).