It’s natural to yearn for revival—to desire seasons when the Church is empowered, refreshed, and equipped to transform the world. Our hearts should always cry out for fresh outpourings of the Spirit, where God’s presence is not just felt but experienced in a tangible, life-changing way.
However, there will inevitably be drier seasons within the Church. Even those who have tasted the sweetness of revival may find themselves feeling as if the glory is fading. Just as the vibrant blooms of spring eventually give way to the barrenness of fall, so can the fiery passion of one season seem distant in the next.
I have friends who often say they are walking in never-ending waves of glory. While I appreciate their enthusiasm, I’m not convinced that this is an accurate assessment. No one can dwell perpetually in a constant state of revival.
The English itinerant preacher George Whitefield was mightily used by God during the Great Awakening. He returned to the colonies five times, yet he never witnessed the same great harvest of souls as he did the first time. Scottish evangelist William Chalmers Burns led a series of powerful revival meetings in Scotland from 1839 to 1846, but when he went to China as a missionary, he saw very little during the last twenty years of his life. Charles Spurgeon, the prince of preachers, experienced a marvelous outpouring of the Holy Spirit in London in 1857. He once said, “It was my happiness personally to see not less than a thousand who had then been converted.”1 However, he never saw the same level of glory in his congregation ever again.2
Despite this, these godly men pressed on faithfully because they understood that God’s work is not limited to extraordinary moments.
Sadly, many have struggled to reconcile the highs of revival with the ordinary rhythms of life. Some who have tasted revival became disillusioned, believing that there could be “no real happiness unless times of revival continued.” George Whitefield had to encourage his friend William McCulloch of Cambuslang in 1749 “because he no longer saw what they had witnessed in the awakening of 1742.” Whitefield reminded him that such outpourings are rare, saying, “I should be glad to hear of a revival at Cambuslang; but, dear sir, you have already seen such things as are seldom seen above once in a century.”3
D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones shared a similar story about a Welsh preacher whose entire ministry was marred by his fixation on the 1904-05 revival. Lloyd-Jones said, “When the revival ended . . . he was still expecting the unusual; and it did not happen. So, he became depressed and spent about forty years of his life in a state of barrenness, unhappiness, and uselessness.”4
This is where we need a fresh perspective. We must celebrate revival but we must also embrace the magnificence of grace in the ordinary. The Lord still speaks in the mundane, ordinary moments of life. It would be tragic if believers missed something good because they were so preoccupied with extraordinary displays.
Ian Murray, a noted church historian, argues that true revival is not entirely separate from ordinary Christianity. The same Spirit who was poured out on the day of Pentecost remains active in our week-to-week worship. According to Murray, the differences are not “in essence or kind but only in degree.” He believes that it is difficult to “determine with certainty where the normal ends and the extraordinary begins.”5
Yearning for revival is good and right, but if we’re not careful, we can become so focused on the spectacular that we miss what God is doing in quieter corners. Murray warns: “If we suppose that blessing on the scale of revival is the only blessing worth looking for, and if we pass over the normal out of desire to see the extraordinary, we are wrong and will be disappointed.”6
I’ve fallen into this trap myself. I’ve longed for the extraordinary to the point that I’ve overlooked the beauty in the everyday. I’ve had to learn that God’s presence is not always in the fire or the earthquake. As Elijah discovered, sometimes it’s in the still, small whisper. While not all seasons look or feel the same, God’s goodness remains constant. We may not always sense his presence, but the Lord is still at work—even when His hand is hidden from view.
William B. Riley, a gifted Baptist evangelist, recognized the tendency to confine God’s work to revivals alone. He recounted the story of a man who was left in utter despair after a revival meeting ended without the breakthrough he sought. Riley writes:
“Our fathers in the faith behaved as if they believed the streams of salvation were closed the rest of the year . . . one man . . . will never forget the utter disappointment, the despair akin to that which must characterize the damned, when the annual meeting of two weeks had closed and left him unsaved. He was like the man in the Bethesda Porch. He had seen the waters troubled at a ‘certain season’ and others stepping in to be made whole, while he must remain in his paralysis. For the waters grew quiet, and he knew it would be a twelve month before the opportunity would return. Strange to say, his seniors seemed also to forget that Jesus was at hand, and could work the miracle of healing out of season.”7
Riley reminds his readers of Paul’s admonition to Timothy: “Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season” (2 Timothy 4:2). Ultimately, the changing seasons do not dictate the grace of God; it is always available to anyone who asks. His mercy is new every morning.
Myriads have had inexplicable encounters with the Lord. Yet, as time passes, even the most glorious revivals wane. Richard Lovelace alludes to this, writing “even when Christian experience involves genuine contact with God which penetrates and transforms the heart in some measure, the vitality of grace may gradually and insensibly decay.”8
Ultimately, all things wane, but that is never the end of the story. The Prophet Isaiah’s words offer us timeless assurance: “The grass withers and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever” (Isaiah 40:8).
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1. Charles Spurgeon, C. H. Spurgeon's Autobiography, vol. I (London: Passmore and Alabaster, 1899), 43.
2. I gathered these observations from revival history from Ian Murray, Pentecost Today? The Biblical Basis for Understanding Revival (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Banner of Truth Trust, 1998), 12.
3. Ian Murray, Pentecost Today? The Biblical Basis for Understanding Revival (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Banner of Truth Trust, 1998), 28. George Whitefield, The Works of George Whitefield vol 2 (London: 1771), 252.
4. D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, The Christian Warfare (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1976), 195.
5. Ian Murray, Pentecost Today? The Biblical Basis for Understanding Revival (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Banner of Truth Trust, 1998), 18.
6. Ian Murray, Pentecost Today? The Biblical Basis for Understanding Revival (Carlisle, Pennsylvania: Banner of Truth Trust, 1998), 29.
7. William B. Riley, The Perennial Revival: A Plea For Evangelism (Revised Edition) (Philadelphia: American Baptist Publication Society, 1916), 5.
8. Richard Lovelace, Dynamics of Spiritual Life: An Evangelical Theology of Renewal (Downer’s Gove, Illinois: Intervarsity Press, 1979), 250.
If revival was sustainable, perhaps it would not be revival. Perhaps it would rather be sustainment; and if sustainment, status quo. Revival is to press the status quo to new vistas. I prefer revivalist communities because they tend to understand this; hence, the perpetual press for revival. Thanks again for the assurance regarding the times and seasons of sustainment.