Shattered, Stirred and Shaken: Living the Book of Acts: My Journey from Here to There

By Michele McCarthy

Michele's journey into the fulness of the Holy Spirit serves as an encouragement to all those who have boldly prayed, "Jesus, I want all You have for me!"

-Pastor Parkey Cobern

Shattered, Stirred, and Shaken is a gripping story of how a woman broken by depression is super naturally transformed into a woman whose heart

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Jun 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637691199

Book preview

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive

Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2021 by Michele McCarthy

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked (KJV) taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version. Cambridge Edition: 1769.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Cover art (original watercolor) by Michele McCarthy

For information, address Trilogy Christian Publishing

Rights Department, 2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, Ca 92780.

Trilogy Christian Publishing/ TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-63769-118-2 (Print Book)

ISBN 978-1-63769-119-9 (ebook)

Dedication

Dedicated to my husband—

encourager and partner in this adventure called life;

thanks for keeping me laughing.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Cat’s Out of the Bag

Chapter 2

Who am I?

Chapter 3

Just Breathe

Chapter 4

Ten Words

Chapter 5

Disqualified

Chapter 6

Well, Well, Well: Hidden in Plain Sight

Chapter 7

Do I Dare Go There?

Chapter 8

Right Here, Right Now

Chapter 9

Love Speaks

Chapter 10

What Cat Was That?

Chapter 11

The Divine Set Up

Chapter 12

Undignified

Chapter 13

In His Image

Chapter 14

When There Becomes Here

One Final Thought…

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

Writing is not a solo endeavor. I am so grateful to Jesus for directing my path; for providing divine encounters of the writing kind. Thank you, Deb DeArmond, for taking on a novice and lovingly coaching the best out of me. Thanks Living Write Texas tribe: Deb, Laura, Karen, Leslie, Sharon, Lori, Donna, Rene, and Michelle for always encouraging and challenging! My deepest gratitude Jonah, Karen, and Leslie, for prereading and providing valuable input. For my friends who allowed me to share your amazing stories—bless you. A special appreciation for my in home editor, the man who kindly didn’t use a red pen, my husband extraordinaire.

I pray like Paul…

That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of Him. I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might which He brought about in Christ, when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him at His right hand in the heavenly places.

(Ephesians 1:17–20)

Jesus often left His audience scratching their heads. After all, the supernatural isn’t natural. My journey is beautiful, messy, and supernatural and draws me to seek out His heart, His mind, and His truth. I want to share my journey with you in hopes you will allow Jesus to be who He is in your life. There is always more of Him. He longs to give us revelation during our intimate moments. My understanding was sorely incomplete. More pivotal than leading me out of emotional and physical darkness, the Lord walked me out of spiritual darkness.

Chapter 1

Cat’s Out of the Bag

But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong.

(1 Corinthians 1:27)

His [God’s] nature is powerful and righteous, but His ways cannot be controlled. He is unpredictable.

—Bill Johnson,

When Heaven Invades Earth

February 2016

Well, the cat’s out of the bag now, my husband chuckled as we slinked up to the obscurity of the church balcony. I shook my head, sweat streaming down the back of my Sunday dress. I resembled a boxer finishing the final round of a match accompanied with the adrenaline, heat, and muscle fatigue to prove it. My unexpected display somehow played out differently in my mind. Paramedics. Are you kidding me? This isn’t funny.

Okay, maybe a little bit funny.

Less than a half-hour earlier, I stood in the choir loft worshipping the Lord, minding my own business. The entire church congregation was in attendance to celebrate our first week to return to a single service Sunday. The event was dubbed the new day at church. Without warning, smack dab in the middle of the New Day service, and quite unintentionally, I created a scene. I bet they weren’t expecting that kind of a new day! It was certainly not on my agenda. God unquestionably has a sense of humor.

I stood on the top row of the choir loft, dead center facing the congregation. Music was on the agenda, but God’s plan included a choir show like no other. And, unbeknownst to me, I was it.

Being on the top row in the choir suits me well. Standing behind two rows of people creates a comfortable buffer between me and the audience. Just don’t put me out front. A choir member, yes; center stage performer, no. An introvert at heart, I laugh about singing solo (so low) no one can hear me.

The service began with fourteen baptisms. My head and shoulders twisted around to see the baptismal loft above and behind me. I heard the water ripple as each new believer submerged and rose again. Excitement on their faces shone brighter than the water droplets reflecting the light. I envisioned the angels in heaven rejoicing. We began singing Chris Tomlin’s Angel Armies.

I know who goes before me. I know who stands behind. The God of angel armies…

The air felt thick with the Holy Spirit. My husband stood amid the congregation. Later he told me he felt the thickness too. He could also see it coming—even before me. My arm started to twitch and shake a bit. Soon, my body shook from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes. With hands raised to God, I shook, praised, shook, praised, and shook, shaking off and on through four songs. I had never shaken through four songs before on stage. I had never shaken through one song before on stage. I’d never shaken through one stanza on stage. Beads of sweat dripped down my back.

Standing behind two rows of choir members, certainly, no one could see enough of me to pay any attention to what was happening. Raising my hands was probably not a good idea. I was just sooo…in the moment. Why hadn’t I kept my hands down? Why didn’t I slink off the top row and slither out the back of the stage? Because my heart knew this was a Holy Spirit moment. No doubt. And because I was so new to this Holy Spirit power, I didn’t want to touch it—interfere with Him. Nor would I dare to shut it down. Besides, I didn’t believe I could shut it down. I wanted the Holy Spirit to bring revival at that moment—with no clue what revival looked like. Did the whole church experience the weight of the Holy Spirit coursing through me? Was it only me?

Prayers for revival in our church were on my lips for months. Moving the Church from two services to one service grieved me. We were losing members. Walking through the sanctuary, praying over every pew from the altar to the back doors, believing for the move of God became my weekly routine. The church members were asked to share the gospel and invite people to church. We were challenged to believe that we could see 200 baptisms take place.

Standing in the middle of my own reviving heart, I invited strangers to church. Sharing the love of God with people in my community was becoming natural. For a split second, my mind shouted, This is embarrassing, God, but if this is what it takes for revival, then give me more, Lord. Could this be the tipping point?

Scanning the sanctuary as we sang, my eyes watched for a glory cloud to appear. Who knew what a glory cloud even looked like? But I wanted one. Where did the words glory cloud come from? Only God could bring one. His power could overwhelm everyone in that room simultaneously, and none of us would be the same again. What would His tangible presence look like flowing through the sanctuary? I didn’t have that answer, but my spirit knew once He showed up, every one of us would be flat on our faces, noses on the carpet, in awe of our amazing God.

In those precious moments—singing, praising, shaking—surely Jesus would walk right through the sanctuary back doors. Expectancy filled every pore of my body.

No big glory cloud.

No one overcome by His power.

No droves of people flocking to the altar for rededication or salvation.

No revival…

Yet.

Maybe this was the first domino tipping over—the start of a move of the Lord.

Others didn’t share my Spirit-filled optimism. Instead, my husband told me later that while I was in the middle of revival oblivion, various associate pastors approached the stage, contemplating how to escort me out of the auditorium. Hushed whispers and pointing fingers must have moved like a breeze through the congregation as questions and concerns erupted in response to something no one expected to see on a Sunday morning—or ever. A few friends raised an eyebrow to my husband, nonverbally asking, Is she ok? He smiled and nodded back. I was clueless, completely lost in worship—engrossed in expectancy.

Worship ended. The choir exited the stage, filing out one row at a time. My arms were still shaking, though my body was beginning to calm. As I descended the stairs to the back room choir loft, I was still unaware anyone in the congregation noticed me. Certainly, only the ladies to my right and left in the choir loft were aware anything unusual had happened. What would you have been thinking if it were you standing next to me? What would have been my thoughts if the person standing next to me experienced what I did?

I was completely stunned and a little confused entering a room full of people who were waiting to check on me—people who would never have been in the choir room. As people approached me, concern was etched all over their faces. What were these people doing in the choir room? What were they thinking?

Only later did realization dawn on me that they might have thought my shaking could be the result of a medical crisis.

It was the Holy Spirit, I explained as one of my arms still moved a bit, It happened yesterday, too. I’m okay.

Blessed by their concern, I wanted to reassure them. The look on their faces said it all… They were not convinced.

Had I looked like a crazy woman up there shaking, song after song? Was this how Peter and the disciples felt on Pentecost when the people in the crowd accused them of being drunk at nine in the morning? Had Hannah felt this way as she cried out to God for a son and Eli the priest thought she was drunk?

Someone swiftly ushered me from the choir room to the foyer and guided me to a bench, just as my husband came around the corner into the choir room. Another person told my husband not to worry; the paramedics had been called.

My eyes found my husband. I glared at him as he scooted in beside me on the bench, telegraphing my thoughts.

Are you kidding me? Is this really happening!

My peripheral vision caught sight of the firetruck through the glass door. The EMT approached, medical bag in hand, then squatted in front of me.

Ma’am, do you know your name?

Do you know where you are?

—Ma’am?

As the paramedic checked my vitals, my voice reported my personal information faster than he could form his questions. My brain remained stunned.

My name is Michele McCarthy—I am at…my address is…my phone number is…

He tilted his head and looked at my husband.

His brow lifted. "Is this all true?’

Yes sir, she’s fine. It’s the Holy Spirit. It happened yesterday at home.

Well, folks, it looks like everything checks out. The EMT, seemingly unfazed, gazed at me with amusement, then began packing his equipment to