Learning to fly with the Spirit

When I was a child growing up in Greendale, I flew my black and yellow kite in the B.C. skies over Fraser Valley fields, often wishing I could be that kite. It flew with such freedom, even reckless abandon. My life seemed too grounded by weekly routines and familiar landscape, too framed by culturally accepted parameters and religious norms.

But, as I grew, my horizons broadened and I began to soar like that kite from my childhood. The Kite Master, by his grace, allowed me to fly over the coastal mountains to new vistas. My kite flew under the shadow of the Lone Star State (Capernwray Bible School Texas), knifed its way through the racially divided clouds of South Carolina (Columbia International University), and endured the endless blaze of a few Fresno summers (MB Biblical Seminary).

The Kite Master was teaching me to fly in new ways, to see the earth and its people from a different angle, opening my mind to new possibilities. With his discernment, I developed a new self-awareness, observed the surrounding landscape with its virtues and limitations, and I began to sense, in a deeper way, the Kite Master’s sovereign hand on the string of my life.

Kite adjustment

The Kite Master pulled my kite to São Paulo, where many poor boys flew their kites from shantytown rooftops, often tangling their kites on each other’s strings and sometimes, to their own peril, striking power lines. I wanted to fly well in São Paulo, but I wasn’t familiar with the language of the skies, the intense sun, quickly changing temperatures, sporadic and heavy tropical rains, and the sometimes gusting and then dying winds. Who would teach me to fly these unpredictable new skies?

The wind of the Spirit told me I was far too focused on wanting to fly well. The Kite Master was more than pleased with my feeble attempts to leave the ground. But I wanted to soar through the Brazilian skies, much to the amazement of onlookers. I wanted to hear from below, “Isn’t it great to have him in our sky!” I yearned to fly higher.

Much to my chagrin, the questions I kept hearing from the Spirit’s winds were: Do you know the One who anchors your line? Do you know the One who glued your spars together, chose your sail material, and painted your kite’s design? Why do you want to fly so high? Who will sustain you way up there?

I reminded the Kite Master that I had flown well in Texas, South Carolina, California, and B.C., and that I should be able to fly well in São Paulo. He turned and allowed me to flutter for awhile. I had not been abandoned, but I was suffering from a lack of wind. No kite ever flew without wind.

Flying with the eagles

Then, as I fluttered, a wind blew by and whispered in my ear, “Kites fly best when their strings are anchored in the Kite Master’s firm hand, their direction determined by his will, their sails full of his wind. They don’t tell him when and where or how high they should fly. They follow his refreshing breezes. And, remember, there are many spiritual winds in the Brazilian sky. Be discerning.” So, the Kite Master pulled my string, ran ahead of me, and my kite soared.

The Spirit taught me to discern the winds of animism and Afro–Brazilian spiritism, Roman and Brazilian Catholicism, Asiatic sects and evangelical prosperity movements. As the Kite Master had warned, I discovered many ill winds in the spiritual skies of São Paulo. I also saw the wind of God freeing men and women of past addictions, healing them of relational brokenness, delivering them from demonic forces that bound them, even repenting of being carried by the wrong winds. Of these, repentance seemed to be the hardest path for most to follow.

I witnessed kites of all sizes discovering the healing winds of the Spirit. People washing their sails in the waters of baptism, adjusting their design to the Kite Master’s plan, and learning to fly in a community of kites. Everyone flew a bit differently but, when viewed from the ground, created a beautiful mosaic that reflected the Kite Master’s own image. In this community of kites, every action depended on the Spirit’s wind – showing mercy, serving, shepherding, teaching, leading. All kites, whether recreational, artistic, scientific, boxed, flat, diamond-shaped, or tailless, were valued.

At least, this was the way it seemed to us. Each day there were more kites in our slice of Brazilian sky, and we thought that the number of kites would just continue to multiply. New communities of kites would be formed, all over Brazil, held by the Kite Master’s strong hand, full of the Spirit’s wind!

Flying very low

And then, a few crosscurrents blew in and the sustaining high pressure subsided. Human and spiritual enemies came, eager to cut our strings. My flight came dangerously low to earth’s floor. Jesus passed by, looking like a Kite Runner, and asked, “Why are you flying? Who are you flying for? What motivates you to fly the Brazilian sky, or any other sky for that matter? Would it matter if your kite hit the ground? What if you kept flying at this height for the rest of your life?”

Answering these questions is easy when your kite is battling the clouds for space. It is much more difficult when it looks like your little insignificant kite could crash – to the cheers of the enemy and sometimes to the applause of those whom you previously thought were flying with you. Although I couldn’t always see the Kite Master, he was holding the string at just the right tension, gradually adjusting the spars into cross-shaped form, allowing the Spirit’s wind to do its healing work.

In the midst of the crosscurrents came prophetic words of life-giving correction from the Spirit’s whispering wind, giving me a hope and future. I heard voices in the wind calling me to fly to other nations, places where kites were already flying and places where kites had yet to fly. It was a new adventure for my little kite.

Through everything, I’ve learned that the Kite Master always points to the sky, telling me not to fear the ominous clouds, even when they carry the threat of torrential rains and lightning. I keep praying for wisdom, gained from those who have flown before me and from my own flying lessons, and I ask for revelation to go where I’ve never gone before.

The Kite Master is teaching me how to sense and catch his winds, assuring me of his forever presence, and reminding me of his strong grip on the line below. I just have to remember one thing: No wind of the Spirit, no flight.

Ray Harms-Wiebe is the global program director for MBMS International. He lives in Abbotsford with his wife Judy and their three daughters.