I am a prodigy. At age 16 I finished an advanced degree in the Oliver Twist School of Theology. I possess an M. I. degree—a Masters of Impertinence. Like Oliver Twist at his workhouse, I have learned to say, “Please, sir, I want some more.”
I had lived too long on the rationalistic gruel handed me by Enlightenment theological paradigms. One of my professors has been John Wimber, who has taught me to ask impertinently, “When do we get to do the works of Jesus—heal the sick, cast out demons, and raise the dead? When do we do the stuff?”
Yes, many in the workhouse warned me not to ask such questions. It could lead to Pentecostalism—even worse, speaking in tongues, something akin to handling snakes. Those who, like Oliver Twist, ask for more are not welcome in the workhouse. They have not learned to be properly grateful for gruel and talk too much of grace.
It takes courage to ask for more. Oliver’s temerity and impertinence shocked Mr. Bumble and other custodians of the workhouse. For the “impious and profane offence of asking for more” Oliver was made “a close prisoner in the dark and solitary room.” Asking for more can get one in trouble.
Indeed, asking for more of the Holy Spirit and for a church more like the one in Acts is often met with surprise and outrage: Why aren’t you content to simply read about the power of Jesus to heal? Aren’t you sophisticated enough to see that the healing is not literal—but metaphorical, emotional, spiritual—anything but physical?
Your piety will be challenged: Is your faith so weak and immature that you need to see miracles to believe? You should take the higher path of believing in Jesus even though the blind remain blind, the crippled lame, and the captive in chains! Be content with the Word of God—and quit asking for more of the Spirit.
But Oliver did not rise from the table and approach the master of gruel just for himself—he stepped up for the other hungry boys at the table. He was “desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery,” but his impertinence was also intercession. And it is not from the weakness of my faith nor for only my own hunger that I ask God for “more”—I ask for the gaunt and longing faces I see at the workhouse table.
I am now done with the Oliver Twist School of Theology. I still have the impertinence to ask for more, but I have moved out of the workhouse. I am not longer an orphan and am working on my doctorate. It may take a while to unlearn being an orphan and complete my D. S. degree. But my Doctorate in Sonship is progressing steadily. Whenever I ask for more, I hear no gasps of outrage—just, “Of course, Son.”
