The 4th of July. What a happy occasion. Especially when it involves a beach with pristine, white sand. That’s what it was for me and my family. That is until the group next to us started blastin’ the scene with profanity-laced gansta rap.
To be fair, they arrived before we did. And it wasn’t at an unreasonable sound level. Nevertheless, I could hear it and so could my kids. It was really annoying, but like I said, they were there first and we could move on if we wanted to.
The sun, however, discouraged that idea as it beat down relentlessly on any determination to move our load of junk any further than we already had. So, I poured over my options. Deal with it seemed to be the only one I could get too until the voice of the Holy Spirit lit my heart.
Command the music to stop.
I wrinkled my nose. I’d done that sorta thing a few times in the past but not near enough to make it feel like something a sane person would do. And at the moment, I couldn’t recall if the results had been good.
I cast a glance around my circle of family, which included my in-laws and other extended family. Command the music to stop, the Lord urged. “Okay,” I answered. “Here goes nothing. In the name of Jesus I command the music to stop and their stereo to be broken.” I figured I’d take it a step further for good measure.
The words had hardly cleared my lips when the music quit. I stared at my wife who looked back at me through wide eyes. We both noticed the commotion coming from the group. “Hey, my phone. It just quit working.”
“No way,” my wife uttered.
I smirked. “Thank you, Lord.”
It was quiet until we came back from swimming awhile later. The profane music was back. I was more confident this time. “Alright, in the name of Jesus I command this music to stop and switch to worship music. I command all spirits of profanity and vulgarity to leave.” Almost instantly the music changed to something much lighter with no profanity. Interestingly enough, it was a secular song painting Father God in a positive light.
An hour or so later the profanity tried to make one more come back. This time it was my 11-year-old son who took control. As soon as the words were out of his mouth the music was gone.
Many might think this situation calls for an altercation where a battle of wills takes place. But I’ve questioned for a long time the things we’d see if we used the name of Jesus more than we typically do. In this case God was the DJ. What might he want to be in other sticky situations we find ourselves in?
Jesse and Kara Birkey