I was standing toward the end of a line of over 100 people. She had just received a well deserved standing ovation. Although desired, it was impossible for me, without appearing rude, to get any closer to the rising star.
It was 2004. I was a amateur in the writing and speaking business. In fact, truth be told, I wasn’t even in the business. Like most people, I was searching for guidance. I knew what I was called to do, but I didn’t know how to do it. And, as quiet as it is kept, at times, I still don’t.
I was in Cleveland, Ohio. I was attending one of America’s major African American national conferences. All the “players” were on the platform. And, their personas didn’t disappoint. Most of us who were seated in the audience, were daydreaming about being on the platform. Thinking we had what it takes to dispense valuable information, after each session we would bombard the “kings and queens.” Believing we needed them, like groupies and street beggars we would humanize (as opposite to seeing our spiritual power) ourselves by thinking our path required us to hunt down certain people to endorse us. As I passed attendees, I could feel the anxious energy engulfing and overtaking our present state of being.
The ‘players’, however, would walk swiftly. Where were they headed? I have no idea. While on their olympic course, we, the peasants (those who hadn’t ‘made it yet’), would hurriedly and nervously pitch our idea to them. Barely looking us in the eyes, most would dig their hand in their right coat pocket, pull out a business card and say: Call me! Excited about our new connection, the truth of our encounter didn’t come until our efforts to follow up led to a dead end.
This time was different. After signing another copy of her book, she looked up and saw me at the back of the line. She looked me square in the eyes. With her index finger she petitioned me to join her at the front. Wondering if she was talking to me, I, in question, put my hand on my chest and contoured my face as to ask: Who me? Yes, she nodded. Everyone surprised, including me, I nervously walked toward her. She said, “Stand, right there.” Like a child who had been called to the office, I couldn’t feel myself breathing. I thought: What does she want with me? How does she know me? What’s going on? Questions were shooting off like fireworks on the fourth of July.
The great spiritual teacher Lisa Nichols said: She had come there to meet me. That she felt my spirit and knew we were met to connect. Since that time, she cried in the wilderness for me by endorsing my first book, There Is More Inside. She has spent hours of her time mentoring me. She has been a gift in my life. My John the Baptist. Who is yours? Find out in spiritual principle two why this is so important.
© 2012 All rights reserved. S. Renee, SRS Productions, Inc., There Is More Inside®
2 thoughts on “Who Is Your John the Baptist?”
good question. who is your John the Baptist? what is interesting about this time period is that only 120 Jews ended up in the upper room. the majority refused John’s Baptism simple because they could not admit to any wrong doing. in other words repentance was a price that their arrogance would not allow to be paid. and it served a purpose for a principal. so where we are now it would be wise to “See John” for the sake of going forward spiritually.
Thank you for sharing, Petra.