By Robby Gallaty

A small group of us arrived at Asbury University on February 15, at 10:30 AM, exactly seven days from when the revival began. One-hundred sixty-eight hours to be exact. The school is no stranger to visitations from God. The first one recorded happened at the turn of the 20th century with the most recent on February 3, 1970.

Wilmore, Kentucky is like any small, rural college town. The backcountry roads from the interstate to the campus created an atmosphere for our time with God. One of the guys with me said, “The school is in the middle of nowhere surrounded by farmland and open fields as far as the eye can see.” It reminded me of how Jesus developed his disciples away from the hustle and bustle of big towns like Jericho and Jerusalem and opted for the countryside in anonymity and obscurity.

As I walked across the lawn toward the chapel, I noticed the crowds filing into two lines. At this point, hundreds and hundreds of people formed a circle that started at the steps and connected at the street. I wondered if we would be allowed in with the first wave. No one was able to enter the chapel until the students finished their weekly service at 11:30 AM. Before the doors opened, one of the faculty members picked up a microphone, “Are there any students here from another campus or school? If so, come to the front so you can enter first.” I appreciated the invitation for Generation Z to enter first. As I climbed the steps my excitement heightened, along with those around me. A lady walked through the crowd praying over people before they entered. The harmony of voices lifting praises to God spilled out each time the doors were opened. Every time, we caught a glimpse of what others had talked about and posted online.

An Unexpected Setting

Upon entering, our group decided to climb the stairs for a spot in the balcony. The chapel was simple. It wasn’t outfitted with screens, an expansive sound system, or up-to-date décor. Each row was made up of old squeaky wooden seats, barely large enough for a guy like me to sit in. But none of that mattered to me, or anyone around me. Everyone seemed to be content with being present in the presence of God. Some were eating sandwiches next to us others were opening snacks that were given out as you walked in the doors. Others had pillows in hand to spend the night.

I didn’t notice any other instruments beside a piano and guitar. I did notice a wooden box on the stage as a makeshift bass drum. No song sheets were passed out as we walked in the chapel. No production, lights, or slides scrolled in the background. No preacher heralded a sermon from the stage for the listeners to record in their notebooks. And there was no service plan of what or who came next. However, what was evident to all in the room was the manifest presence of God as the people of God sang in unison to Him.

As I worshipped in song, I was reminded of what a man in line, who had arrived the day before, shared with me. He suggested I enter without any expectations of what I want or think will happen. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect. Would the presence of God hit me in the face as I walked through the doors? Would I be overcome with emotion as I sang in worship? Would I even be able to voice the words? None of those things happened as I made my way to our seats.

Immediately, I joined in singing with those around me. Hands were lifted across the room as expected. Shortly after, I felt compelled to sit down and take it in. About 30 minutes into my time, the mood of the room changed. The voices started to sync up in a rhythmic fashion. Like an instrument finally getting in tune to play a familiar song. A sensitivity to the Holy Spirit was evident. Some started clapping, others shouted here and there, as emotions heightened to the moment. “Praise God,” “Amen,” “Thank you Lord,” and “God is good” were phrases spoken by the crowd. Voices increased in volume as the songs continued. Time seemed to stand still. The Lord’s presence would come upon us like waves.

No one sang out of routine or familiarity. Everyone intentionally focused on each word that rose from their lips. Worship songs I’ve sung for years seemed to have a deeper meaning. I believe the expectancy for God to move by those in the room led to a personal encounter with Him. The collective group anticipated God working in their lives. I wonder what would happen if we arrived each Sunday for worship with the same posture? Many times, we attend out of habit or routine, I’ve been guilty of that myself in the past. That was not the case at Asbury, at least from my perspective.

 After being on campus for three hours, I felt like we needed to leave to make room for those who were waiting outside. I asked one of the faculty members walking through the aisles counting the empty seats, “Are there people outside waiting to get in?” He said, “Yes, there are hundreds waiting in line right now.” We could have stayed all night but decided to leave so others could enter.

Taking the Revival Back With Us

The Revival didn’t end when we left. It traveled back with us to Long Hollow Church. It also trveled with every believer, pastor, and minister who attended. Personally, I believe what’s happening at Asbury will sweep the nation. If God decides to blow upon our nation with a fresh wind like he did in 1970, the full effects will not be realized for years. Back then, students came away with testimonies of what they saw and heard to 130+ college campuses over the next few years. It’s a reminder that the fame of revival fans the flame of revival.

In 2021, we experienced a revival at Long Hollow. After sitting with the Lord for 10 months in silence and solitude, I heard two words: spontaneous baptism. I was hesitant to offer the following Sunday, mainly because I hadn’t seen it done before in church. On Sunday, December 20, 2020, I was able to preach to the lowest attended services in the 5-and-a-half years since I had been at Long Hollow Church. I said, “You’re not prepared to be baptized today, but we are.” Ninety-nine people responded that Sunday for baptism.

Over the next 15 weeks, I baptized over 1000 people from 17 states, with four of those Sundays being online only services. Every person who got into the tank gave me the same response, “The Holy Spirit compelled me to come here.”

 Since then, I’ve learned some lessons about revival in my church and my own life:

 1. You can’t plan for it.

2. Revival is messy.  I’d rather have a messy move of God than a manufactured, man-made one any day.

3. You won’t see revival without risks.

4. Belief is the fuel that stokes the fire of revival.

5. You can’t manage it. 

6. Discipleship must follow a move of God. Jesus never said, “make Christians or decisions.” He said, “Make disciples.”

What made Asbury different from a normal worship gathering is that no one wanted to leave. It reminded me that only God can sustain an encounter like this for any extended period of time, much less a week of continuous worship. No one came to hear a popular preacher or Christian artist. We were there for God. I’ve seen comments online about not “chasing the revival” or “don’t take up room for students by attending the chapel service at Asbury.” I think I understand their heart behind the post. Nonetheless, I know how easy it is to criticize something you haven’t experienced personally.

Every believer has as much of God as they want, and for years, I settled for a surface level, synthetic substitute of the presence of God. I’m here to tell you there’s so much more of God’s presence, person, and power to have in your life.

Once you’ve been touched by the Spirit and experienced the manifest presence of God in your own life, you are “undone,” in a good way, as Isaiah proclaimed in the presence of the Lord. Playing church is a thing of the past. You can’t go back to business-as-usual services. You don’t want to. Once you touch the hem of the garment, your heart longs for one more moment in the presence of God. David said it this way: “One day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.” God can do more in a moment than any man or woman can manufacture in a lifetime. David knew this. Moses knew this. I hope we recognize the moment we’re in.

God is not bound by location or geography. Revival can come to your community, church, or home, but it must start with you. You may be the blood clot to revival coming to your family or congregation. I was.

What can you do? Humble yourself before a holy God. God only dwells in two places in the Bible: The High and Holy Places and with a Humble and Contrite heart. When we confess our lack of dependency upon him in humility, he will meet with us intimately.

Robby Gallaty is the Pastor of Long Hollow Church in Hendersonville, TN. He was radically saved out of a life of drug addiction on November 12, 2002. In 2008, he began Replicate Ministries to equip and train men and women to be disciples who make disciples. He is the author of many books, including Growing Up, Recovered and Replicate.