Terminal insomnia

“There is a gulf fixed between those who can sleep and those who cannot. It is one of the great divisions of the human race.”–I. Murdoch, Nuns and Soldiers

For the last several years, I have suffered periodically from terminal insomnia. That’s a scary name, isn’t it? A better one is “early rise” insomnia. I simply wake up too early. Today it was 4 a.m.

As I’ve gotten older–older, not old, mind you–I have lost the ability to sleep in; making it past 6 a.m. is a rare and notable achievement. I also seem to rarely be able to sleep more than six hours. That might sound good enough, but living in a tropical climate with extreme temperatures I find I need closer to eight. I almost never get it. I’ve always been a morning person, so I can get a lot of work done in the morning and enjoy doing so, but many days by 1 p.m. I’m washed out. In recent months I’ve started to take naps in the afternoon; thankfully my schedule allows it, and while I’m not particularly good at sleeping during the day either, even 10 or 20 minutes helps me recover the rest of the day. (Today, unfortunately, is one of those days when I will not have the opportunity.)

The bad thing about this type of insomnia is that there is precious little that can be done about it. I have no difficulties falling asleep at night, so most of the advice for the more common type on insomnia doesn’t apply. Last night I just couldn’t stay up and was out before 10, which pretty much guaranteed the early rise. There’s no medication for this sort of thing, and I wouldn’t want to try sleeping pills anyway. I don’t have caffeine after 6 a.m. (not a typo). On days I’m not too exhausted I exercise, which helps some, but mostly it seems to increase my overall sleep requirement.

My insomnia seems to be connected with intense, vivid dreams. This is a constant thing practically every night, and all the members of my family have reported the same thing as long as we have lived in our present city. (When we travel to a different city, the dreams lose their intensity and frequency.) I remember last night’s quite well; it was so stupid. I was managing a radio station, overseeing a program expansion, juggling budgets and personalities. Okay, so I know why I was dreaming about budgets, but otherwise it was so pointless. I woke up at 3, fell back asleep uneasily and dreamt some more until I woke again, fully alert, at 4. This is a very typical pattern.

So, that’s why I’m able to write and get a post up before 5 a.m. I will now scurry around and try to get some work done before the rest of my family and the sun rise, then hope and pray that I can get through a rather busy Thursday.

Strange phenomena and the ministry of the Holy Spirit

Related to the topic at hand—the charismatic movement and its criticism—I have a story that is interesting, at least to me. I don’t want to give all the details, partially to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent, partially because long blog posts don’t get read.

During a time of major transition in my life and ministry, I was invited to attend a conference held by a small apostolic “network” (we say “network” now because “denominations” are bad, mkay?) in a Southeast Asian country. The attendance was about evenly split between Asians, mostly Indian and Chinese, and Westerners, mostly Americans.

Seeing this was an apostolic network, the head apostle started it off by introducing himself:

Some people are apostles and prophets.

Some people are apostles and evangelists.

Some people are apostles and pastors.

Some people are apostles and teachers.

I am an apostle and a drunk.

That statement set the tone for the whole conference and put me off of it from the start. The main emphasis of the meetings was on spiritual phenomena—falling down, shaking, and what is called “spiritual drunkenness.” If you’ve seen it, you know what I’m talking about. That’s what these people were all about. (That, and networking.) These are the sort of thing John MacArthur means by “strange fire.”

And a lot of phenomena took place. People spontaneously twitched, trembled, and fell down. Ministry time consisted of the leaders of the network—all Americans—laying hands on people and praying for them until they fell over. A lot of people spent considerable time on the floor.

Here’s the thing: those who experienced the phenomena were all Westerners or American-returned Asians. The local Asians didn’t.

For example, people took turns introducing themselves at the microphone. The Asians would get up and quickly say whatever they needed to and be done. The Westerners would start trembling the moment they touched the microphone and soon be on the floor. During prayer time, again, the Westerners would quickly fall as soon as they were touched. The Asians—again, unless American-returned—had to be pushed—and pushed they were. (As for me: I allowed myself to be prayed for but was determined not to let anyone push me over. The night before the conference I picked up numerous bad mosquito bites right in the center of my forehead. Boy, did it ever hurt when they started pushing on it!)

What gives here? Why did only certain ethnic groups experience the phenomena? If you think they come from the Holy Spirit, then was God being racist? If you think they are from, um, someone else, why did that someone only attack the white people?

How about a third answer? I would suggest that most of these phenomena are from neither God nor the devil but are learned (human) behaviors. People fell down not because God or the devil knocked them over but because they wanted to (excepting those who were successfully pushed over). Also, culture plays a big role: Americans tend to be emotionally exuberant, sometimes to the point of mania, especially when overseas. Asians, by contrast, are generally more reserved.

I have seen and felt some unusual things in my time as a Christian. I have seen people fall in connection with true healings. Once, after the service was over and you’d think everything would be quiet, a warmth and energy flooded the front of a church, and multiple people were knocked to their knees. Although such experiences have never been a routine part of Christian practice, they are not without historical precedent (see: “enthusiasm”), and I think you can find some indicators of them in the Bible as well. Now is not the time to go into such things, however.

I think a lot of what occurs today in the renewal movement is an attempt to reproduce such experiences. Good things happened when these phenomena took place, therefore if we recreate the conditions in which these occured by replicating the phenomena, the good things will also happen again. (This, I firmly believe, explains a lot of the current “worship” movement.) One time when the Holy Spirit “showed up,” people fell down; therefore, they should fall down again if He is really there.

These practices can be both harmless and harmful. Harmless, because they represent a genuine, psychospiritual response (religious feeling/Gefühl?) to the word and work of God. A woman living in an oppressive situation, for example, may look forward to a Friday night revival service. In response to prayer, she has an ecstatic experience, falling to the floor. There she feels rest and peace, the most she’s had all week, and is renewed in her knowledge that whatever else is going on, God loves her. Much could be said about this, but if it gives her a better life and makes her a better Christian, who has the right to judge it? Moreover, who can confidently conclude that God can’t (always a dangerous phrase) work in, through, and over such a human experience? (I am not a monergist.)

Harmful, for several reasons. Openness to spiritual experiences may lead to putting God in another kind of box; that God did something once may lead to an expectation that it must always happen that. People confuse phenomena for spiritual gifts or, worse, the Holy Spirit himself. A manufactured spirituality is about as good as it sounds, and the routinization of manifestations can open the door to charlatans and all sorts of abuse. The whole idea of the “spiritual drunkenness,” mentioned above, as a good thing is utter nonsense. A failure by charismatic leadership to discern and discipline abuses can lead many people to throw the baby out with the bathwater and reject the renewal movement altogether (see again: MacArthur). Openness and patience are necessary, but as is said, we need to keep the main thing the main thing, and falling down isn’t it.

A closing note on my Southeast Asian conference: had I known in advance what it was going to be like, I probably wouldn’t have attended. (On other hand, free ticket!) I remember almost nothing that was said there except for one teaching by the “drunk apostle.” Quite soberly, he explained a simple, reflective exercise for finding God’s will for your life and invited us to go through it. I spent some time in prayer by myself, thinking over the questions he raised. At that point I was going through a major time of transition and really didn’t know what to do with my life. In completing that exercise, I began to get answers, and I felt as though God were giving me a new plan and direction for my life.

I’ve been following that plan and direction ever since. That exercise was what led me to realize my calling to theological education and ministerial training. Although it has not always been easy, it has been good to know what I am to do to my life. All credit and thanks goes to the Holy Spirit, but he used that drunk apostle to communicate to me.

And that’s why I don’t rush to judge my brothers and sisters, even when they’re nutty.