Chapter 4
Insight
SPIRIT SONG
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The year was 1950. Dad was home from WWII, and we were on the move. We were all so excited. We moved from Angelina Heights, above Echo Park in Los Angeles, to a brand new house on a big corner lot at 500 S Corlett Avenue, in a new subdivision of Compton, California. It was a lovely home with parquet floors, and we each had our private bedroom. All made possible by the GI Bill to our dad who served in WWII. I was seven and my brother, Bruce, was nine.
There was a big field behind the house with a stately row of eucalyptus trees. In those days, they grew a crop of wheat in the field. Not knowing any better, we kids, which included the neighborhood kids, had fun with dirt clod fights after a big rain. We also stomped down the high wheat, which was over our heads, and made a play area, including a kitchen with a fire pit right in the center. What can you say? We were dumb kids. I also remember workers stacking a huge pile of wheat at the base of one of the eucalyptus trees. Following the lead of my big brother and the other kids, we latched onto a rope hanging from the tree to swing and tumble into the soft pile of hay. Fun! Fun! Fun! Once, my brother brought home a couple of white rats - supposedly both females. Right! Nonetheless, I got a pet out of the deal. Sadly, one day the smallest one who was my pet got into Mama’s laundry. The next thing I knew it was floating inside the top of Mama’s wringer washer. I got that news when I heard her scream at the top of her lungs. Well at least, the kids were sympathetic. It was a solemn occasion when we all formed a funeral procession and slowly marched out to the field behind our house. We buried my little white pet, now lying stiff with a pink, wide-eyed stare in a shoebox coffin. With as much ceremony as we knew, we lowered it into its grave. The relatives of my deceased pet soon made themselves known when Mama opened the side door of the garage. To our severe discipline, she heard hundreds of little feet scampering for shelter in the rafters. It took an exterminator to get rid of the relatives of what was thought to be two females. Such was life for this happy little girl of seven. Our family, originating out of Tennessee made its way westward during the days of the Oklahoma Run but always kept their association with the Southern Baptist church. When our family moved to Compton, we moved our letter to a sweet little church there. "Oh, come - come - come to the Church in the Wildwood!" Baptists always had revivals, or so it seemed. We got all dressed up one day and went with Mama and Daddy. Being a Baptist, the preacher got right to it and asked if anyone needed Jesus Christ in their heart. Suddenly my brother, Bruce, jumped up, scooched in front of people and started walking down the aisle. Wow! He was my "Buddy." If he needed Jesus in his heart, then I did too. So I quickly made it past people and ran after him. It wasn’t then, but a few nights later, the pastor baptized a bunch more people and us. I was in total awe of that memorable evening. Someone dimmed the lights; a man in a suit lit the candles around a big white bath tub that the preacher called a baptistery. Mama dressed me in a simple, but lovely white dress in a side room. When I heard my name, I slowly climbed a couple of steps and then down into the big tub filled with comfy warm water. I hardly noticed that my dress started floating up in the water. I was carefully handed over to the pastor who asked me in a solemn voice if I knew what it meant to ask Jesus into my heart, and would I live the rest of my life for Him. With a little quiver in my voice, I said, "Yes, sir." I always felt the love of Jesus, but now more than ever. With the warmth of the water, the gentleness of the pastor, and the beautiful candles flickering around me, the pastor had me cross my arms in front of me. He then placed a hanky over my nose and started tilting me backward when, suddenly, I lost my balance, and my feet came shooting up out of the water. It became a commotion of such splashing, which caused everyone in the congregation to start snickering. Oh dear, I blew the beautiful moment, but I never forgot it, or the grand importance of knowing that I gave my life to Jesus Christ. We were happy kids for just a few more years until a dark and evil spirit found its way to our address, but that’s not a story worth telling. Suffice it to say; life fell apart, so radically that my brother and I even became homeless kids for a couple of years. To us, homeless meant ripped away from Mom and Dad and shipped off to relatives. When we separated, for safety sake, my brother went to live with Grandma Elliott, and I went to live with my mother’s cousin, Irma, and her family with six kids. By then, I was your teen, nearly fourteen, and in desperate need of stability. I sure found it with Irma’s precious family. Her husband, Robert, was a Southern Baptist pastor. I credit the Schram family with saving my life. Literally! Somehow that big, happy family managed to squeeze in one more bed, and I had a new home. I was happy taking part in helping with the younger kids. It's not surprising that every time the doors opened at church, I was there! So troubled before, I settled into my new surroundings and school, with the flexibility of my youth. I even became the chaplain of the Thalians, a girls’ charitable service organization (started by young Hollywood starlets) at Chaffey High School, in Ontario, California, and was able to take part of several of the schools' musical productions. ded wisdom than the Lord strongly spoke within me saying, “Katy, if it is all right for you to sing in the Spirit, why isn’t it okay for Jimmy to pray in the Spirit?” Okay, right Lord. I've got it. One summer, when I was fifteen, we all went to the Baptist summer camp. It was an entirely new experience for me. The girls were in a camp across the river from where the rowdy boys were. All the activities were great fun, and we built friendships with each other - and friendship with God. Every morning, we started with chapel-time. It was just after dawn when the birds began singing. I can still see the tall pine trees with the sunlight filtering through the green boughs creating crepuscular rays of light as we sat on wooden benches. Still yawning and stretching, we started to liven up with spirited songs from the Bible. During the service, I saw that I forgot my Bible, so I slipped away and hurried to my cabin to get it. As I raced back to where the others were meeting, my little heart started pounding. I was so full of the love of God that I could feel His embrace. Without giving it any thought, the overflow of love came out in song. I was alone (I thought), and sang to my heart’s content. When I arrived back at the chapel, several people commented on the beautiful song I was singing and asked me to sing it again. I blinked a couple of times in surprise and said, “I was just singing.” I didn’t know the song to sing it again. What I didn’t realize is that I received the gift of a new song. I was, as is said, singing in the Spirit. From that time, when I feel the overwhelming presence of the Spirit, it rhythmically pulsates through me in song. In my current day, a friend suggests that I am singing "the Son of Lamb," and of His victory over death - a song that only the redeemed can sing. There are no "temporal" words for this song because it resonates in the eternal presence of God. Irma, my house-mom, was the music director at their church. She gave me my first solo when I was fifteen, “The Pearly White City,” I was so nervous that my knees were shaking. When I told Irma, she plainly said, “Honey, you just pray that the Holy Spirit sings through you.” I took that in child-like faith and prayed exactly that. Then, I stood confidently and amazed because when I began to sing, I felt the power of God singing through me. It was like I was sitting in the congregation listening to the song. Then, and now always, I pray that prayer. “Set me aside, Lord, and let your Spirit sing through me.” It still amazes me even in my current day. I do my homework, i.e., learn the music, and He sings it through me. It was my personal and intimate love song to God. It wasn't open for interpretation. Yea and amen! |
As the years went by, I held my new style of singing close to my heart. Then, one day, a friend, Jimmy, who was part of our Bible Study, was so excited to tell me that he had received the gift of praying in the Spirit. Self-righteously, I said that if there wasn’t an interpretation, he was out of order with the Word of God according to 1 Corinthians 12. No sooner did I give him my misguided wisdom than the Lord strongly spoke within me saying, “Katy, if it is all right for you to sing in the Spirit, why isn’t it okay for Jimmy to pray in the Spirit?” Okay, right Lord. I've got it.
All this was happening in the 70’s when there was an explosion of the Christian faith called the "Jesus Movement." A small group of us had a very intense and introspective Bible study going, led by a dear friend, Linda. A couple of us played guitars and opened with vibrant praise songs, many of which were from the Scriptures. After that, we drilled into the Word as led by the Spirit, who promised to lead us into all truth and righteousness. During that time of fellowship the book, “The Holy Spirit and You,” by Dennis Bennett, made its way through several hands. After reading it, I knew I wanted to unwrap every gift God had for me - be it in prophecy, serving, teaching, exhortation, giving, leadership, or mercy (Romans 12:6-8). 1 Corinthians 12:8-10 considers the gifts of the Holy Spirit being words of wisdom, words of knowledge, healings, miracles, discernment of spirits, tongues or the interpretation of tongues. I understood that when we invited Jesus Christ into our lives, he moved into my heart with all the gifts. There was nothing withheld. On the day Linda was packing to leave for England, I just had to go to her and ask her to lay hands on me and to pray that I would be willing and courageous enough to open all of His gifts. Man! The lady was busy. She was packing to move! However, she was so gracious to take the time to pray with me. We went out to her backyard and prayed. She laid hands on me, praying that I would be willing to give all to God. She prayed in her Heavenly language for me to receive the fullness of God’s gifts. I think she thought that I would just get it and start praying in my new language. I asked if she would leave me there alone for a while. When she went back into the house, I knelt down and started praying. At first, it was in words of thanksgiving, but then, ever so easily new words ushered out of my mouth, words I had never heard before. I was so bound up with deep grief from several of life's torments - childhood trauma, the loss of my first husband, having to bear motherhood alone. Oh goodness, there was so much to relinquish. While I was praying, it was as though someone stuck a pin in a balloon. All the sorrowful grief from deep within me gushed out - as the Word says, “with groanings too deep for words.” I felt somewhat exhausted, yet, had an extraordinary relief when I finished praying. God, indeed, interceded on my behalf through the Spirit. (“In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Romans 8:26 NASB) For the most part, I sang the song as my personal expression of love for my Savior. However, there was one extraordinary time when the Lord brought it out of me in our church service in Guam, U.S. I felt like my heart would explode if I didn’t start singing. The song resonated in beauty to the highest rafters. When I finished, I quietly sat down. Then, to my amazement, the pastor started singing the interpretation - in English! After the service, he told me he had never done anything like that before. He wasn’t the singer in his family, his wife was. What a special time in the Lord. The entire body of believers was lifted up. I never heard of the term glossolalia, but I have come to know that, indeed, there is the language of men, and there is the language of angels. As 1 Corinthians 13, says, “Although I speak in tongues of men and of angels.” And, truly so, I am highly edified in my spirit when I return a lovely song to my Creator. Others seem to be also lifted up by the music when the Spirit sings through me. It’s like listening to a beautiful aria in Italian. We may not know the words, but we can relate to the beautiful melody of the music. In my youth, I never gave thought to the meaning of my experience. I just enjoyed it for what it was, and how it set my heart aglow. Recently, I looked up the word that references speaking in “tongues of angels.” In the original Greek. The word, γλώσσαις, is the same word used by Peter in Acts, Chapter 2. That word is also in Mark, Chapter 16:17, as spoken by Jesus, “And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues” - (Greek - γλώσσαις; transliteration glossa). It’s a powerful form of praise, and praise is the weapon of our warfare, in that it releases the power of God to loose his mighty angelic forces to tear down strongholds and to release the Goodness of God. “His godly lovers triumph in the glory of God, and their joyful praise will rise even while others sleep. God’s high and holy praises fill their mouths, for their shouted praises are their weapons of war!” (Emphasis mine) Psalms 149:5-6 the Passion Translation. Can we shout “Hallelujah"?! Being a music major, I have experimented with the spirit singing. I often use a melody given to me from Psalm 40 as my springboard. “I waited patiently for the Lord, and He heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of destruction; out of the miry clay. He placed my feet upon a solid rock and made my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praises to my God.” At times, I have recorded my new song, and then played it back and sung along with it. The harmonies were perfect, and they completely amaze me because they are in free form and not planned out. It reminds me of my Mama who taught me to sing. She said, “Katy, never sing a song if your heart is not in agreement." And, “Sing with every fiber of your being.” Now, I can say, “I completely understand, Mama! Thank you for being my most valued teacher!” ~~~~~~~~ Postscript: “It happened that while Apollos was at Corinth, Paul passed through the upper country and came to Ephesus, and found some disciples. He said to them, ‘Did you received the Holy Spirit when you believed?” And they said to him, ‘No, we have not even heard whether there is a Holy Spirit.’ And he said, ‘Into what then were you baptized?’ And they said, ‘Into John’s baptism.’ Paul said, ‘John baptized with the baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in Him who was coming after him, that is, in Jesus.’ When they heard this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. And when Paul had laid his hands upon them the Holy Spirit came on them, and they began speaking in tongues and prophesying. There were in all about twelve men.” Acts 19:1-7, New American Standard Bible. |
MY MOM, "RACHEL THE BEAUTIFUL"
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ME and MY HOUSEMOM, IRMA SCHRAM,
Summer of 1956
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