In response to a question on Facebook about impartation.
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Hey, Scotti. In my limited opinion, but you asked...:

Impartation is to those who honor the anointing as separate from the vessel or can lift the lid on the vessel to see the treasure it contains. If I honor THAT, then I benefit from the value of that treasure and it is deposited into my account. Matt 10:41...(if you honor a prophet in the name of the prophet...) I think it's nice if the vessel knows what they contain/carry, but it's not necessary. There is also great capacity in the heart of the person positioned to receive. The woman with the issue of blood who touched Jesus for example. The giver and the receiver who are each aware of what's going on will both be blessed in the exchange. I'm not sure how to put this but here goes... God never stops being the source of the gift, so it's not something that we can ever give independent of His sovereign will, however it is His sovereign right to invite us into a partnership of co-laboring where our will and His will are united to release blessing to people. If someone gave you charge of their wealth and asked you to distribute it, you would want to do so according to their desire, not sowing where they would not sow and so on. That would require you to be in a close relationship with them, which is apparently what He wants. That delegated authority to you would not result in your independence from Him, but would actually draw you closer as you release the treasure within you to affect the world around you.

Laying on of hands is a big deal. If you are going to equip someone in the physical, you'll do it by taking hold of something and handing it to another person. We are made in the image of God and I think that, though God is Spirit, our hands reflect that aspect of His nature that releases, empowers, blesses, and equips. When you lay hands on someone and are aware that you are reflecting Him, there is great power in that moment and contact. To put it another way, if people are conscious of what they carry in the things of the Spirit and they lay hands on someone whose heart is positioned to receive and steward with excellence what is deposited into them, there is a tangible transfer of Spiritual wealth from one person to another through the laying on of hands. 1 Tim 4:14. (Don't neglect the gift in you that was deposited to you by the laying on of hands...) It's God's way of making certain that the Body stays connected and that we are always in "freely you have received, freely give" mode.

On your last paragraph... Fruit is not followers. If that were the case, Jesus had a fruitless ministry. Fruit is of the Spirit and that which is not of the Spirit is dead, and the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace....etc. Fruit is first and foremost, love. Love (Agape) has an appetite and it will be drawn to a well where it can be filled. God's (Love's) appetite for you went to unreasonable degrees to be poured out, ie crucifixion. The result of being immersed in that river of love is the fullness of joy that comes from the Presence of the Lord....followed by peace that goes beyond comprenension...etc. You get the picture, but it's ALL good and beautiful. As I heard in a song once, "God is a lover looking for a lover so He fashioned me." Love looks for Love, to respond to Love, so Love can increase. This is the mark of true discipleship. John 13:35

Quick study... Jesus says blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness sake for they shall be filled. Matt 5:6 Righteousness is not a condition of being. RIGHTEOUSNESS IS A PERSON. Jesus IS the Righteousness of God and when you are in Christ and He is in you that Oneness produces an identity that we could spend a thousand lifetimes attempting to understand. That you now ARE the Righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. But just because something isn't fully understood doesn't mean that it can't be fully accepted. So BLESSED (that is favored, empowered, and equipped) are YOU who have an appetite for more of Him and the result of that manifest hunger is that you will be filled. Fullness in the Kingdom is measure in overflow, that is, stewarding it means you give it away. In order for that to occur, you have to find more who are hungry and thirsty for what you have freely received. If you are willing to travel to receive something from God, it demonstrates the value your heart places on both the vessel and the treasure God has put in them. This is honor and honor is how you receive inheritance. It is a self pity mindset that defaults to the omnipresence of God as a way to excuse the lack of hunger a man can feel when disappointment and offense manifests as apathy. Apathy disguised as maturity will always call hunger that moves you a foolish waste of time. But it's the hunger that makes it to the surface that gets fed and wise men still travel.

The sun settles into the pocket of cloud at the edge of the horizon, ultraviolet beams bust through holes worn into the clouds by the wind causing me to squint tight my eyes. It rolls down the wall of blue and like a mood ring the color responds to it's heat. The sun must be a confused lover today because orange, pink, and purple can't seem to find out where one ends and the other begins. Embracing the blue the colors never merge, never separate, never dilute like paint into a dull gray. At 35 thousand feet it feels like I'm above it all, but 93 million miles away this molten hurricane of fire hardly resembles the beauty it's light is forming before my eyes here. The sounds of Muse breeze through my airtight earbuds and I want to roll down the window of this jet, crawl outside and on top of it, standing left foot forward, right foot dug in and ride this supersonic surfboard through banks and turns careening through the clouds like a hawk glides between the walls of a canyon. Ignoring the impossible physics of the quest, I could feel my feet leave the fuselage for a second or two wondering how far I had just passed through the air only to touch down on two feet still intact. It's delightful to discover that at the age of 37, I still have an imagination.

I don't know if your mind does this or not but mine scores life. Not like a football game, but like a movie. The score or soundtrack is the meat of most great moments in film. It's a rare movie that doesn't heavily lean on the soundtrack to underscore what the writer/director wants to convey in terms of bringing the audience into the moment emotionally. It's giving a collective connection to the crowd so that sad moments are sure to make your eyes burn with tears, scary moments make your bladder control mechanism temporarily unreliable, and tense moments make your brow furrow and sweat. I guess then the definition of a good score would be one that makes you leak in different ways.

As I wander through my day, music is always going on in my head. Every moment has a soundtrack. I don't do it consciously, it just happens. Maybe this is why my tastes in music are so stinking eclectic and I find an artistic appreciation for everything but bad opera and tone deaf mariachis. Accordions are of the devil, those plastic recorders from third grade sound the same no matter which orifice you use to blow them, and the definition of perfect pitch to me is a banjo in a dumpster. So I do have some instruments on my list of those that should never be practiced by anyone who wants to be taken seriously as a musician. Probably none are so offensive though, as the bagpipes. I mean, can you name one professional bagpipe player off the top of your head? Anybody have a cd of bagpipe music that you jam to in the car? Ever been in the heat of a romantic moment with your true love and click on the bagpipe tunes to accentuate the mood? Didn't think so.

Nevertheless, I have been moved by some songs lately that have become staples in the soundtrack of my life. "Nobody's Fault But Mine" is a good one when you're walking down the street in frustration. That's for those moments when you realize that you being wrong has either ruined someone else's day or made someone else's day. There's this great little song by Norah Jones called "The Long Day is Over" that works well at the close of (drum roll) a long day. It can't be played at 10 am unless you work third shift. Diana Krall has this weepy rendition of "Soldier in the Rain" that's sure to put you into a semi comatose state of depression by the end of its five minute run. When misery loves company, that's the tune that works. That one along with John Mayer's "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" and anything by Chase Coy.

Nothing quite works a road trip like Tom Petty. Doesn't matter which song either. I think they were all written in a moving vehicle because that's how they sound. "You Wreck Me", "Free Falling", "Higher Place", and "Crawling Back to You" are asphalt highlights, but the one that moves me to tears (and I may be the only one) is "Time to Move On". It's absolutely the only song to play when you're leaving somewhere with no promise that you'll ever return. Be careful though. Play it on your way home from work one day and you may get inspired and never go back.

When we were in Maui, there were a few artists/groups that got a lot of airplay in our car and that was the obvious Bob Marley, the not so obvious Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, and Bob Schneider. Bob Schneider's got this song called "Gold in the Sunset" that is pretty catchy unless you're actually driving along the beach with the sunset actually happening off to your left and then it's absolutely magic. There's this part at the end of the song where this harmonic blend of voices just sings out in a moment when words just won't do the orange sky justice. Brilliant. Marley's classics work almost anywhere there's an ocean. Way better than Jimmy Buffet in my opinion, but Marley can take you from tense to chill in seconds with "Stir It Up", "Three Little Birds" or my absolute favorite sing along song ever, "Is This Love". CSNY's "Suite Judy Blue Eyes" is still a masterpiece but the track that gets me in the car is "Wasted on the Way". Walking through an airport, Owl City and Coldplay work well. Walking through a cemetery, slow bluegrass is soothing in a creepy sort of way. Sitting on the dock of the bay? Otis Redding knew one day we all would be. Driving through Arizona? "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi is still sweet cranked to 11. In the city with the windows down? Some old TLC girl rap still has class..."hangin out the passenger's side of his best friend's ride..." Downtown Austin? Stevie Ray. Lifting weights? "Enter Sandman". Sitting in a beach chair? Colbie Callat. Lamenting loss? Dido. Working on a computer? Elvis Costello. Riding with your wife? Journey. In Vegas at night? Ol Blue Eyes, baby. Riding in a bus or thinking back on the 80's? "Sweet Child of Mine" Got a whiny teenager in the car? Katy Perry's "Hot and Cold". With your uncle who reads no book other than the King James Version of the Bible? Keith Green's "Asleep in the Light". Just want to be cool nomatter your age? Matisyahu. Sitting with Grandma drinking sweet tea? Patsy Cline's "Walkin After Midnight". Hanging with college buddies? REM. The list goes on longer than your life.

Now I know what my kids are thinking here. Where's the Jesus music, dad? That's where this article has somewhat of a point. You never know the power of music until you realize how much your moments are affected by it. The songs I've mentioned can accentuate the location, scenery, or mental state you're already in at the moment. But good worship music transcends that and creates a moment in itself. The "Jesus Culture" cd "Consumed" has a version of "Dance With Me" that's volcanic. Misty Edwards unreleased masterpiece called "Beauty Arise" wrecks me deeply. Kim Walker's "How He Loves" still stirs my soul into a tornado of awe at it's description of heart of the Father. Good worship music (and good is defined differently by different ears) is that which has the ability not simply to score your day, but move you away from the moments you feel locked into and lift you to a place where heaven meets you, redefines you, and draws the eyes of your heart from the wasted efforts of fruitless toil and onto the face in which the eyes of Love are deeply set and intensely focused on you. You whom He loves with relentless abandon. And at some point every day, that's good to know.

Beneath my bare feet, the sidewalk cools my skin contrasted by the sun warm on my left cheek. Before me, at arms length is a man, dark hair in loose curls, ears obscured, bearded jaw moving in conversation that I can't understand, for he's not talking to me. The rolled sleeves of the untucked shirt, cover hairy arms that have known labor. He stands looking at a canvas preparing to create, he lowers his brush into.....his left hand, from which an occasional drop of blood falls to the pavement below. There's no wound, at least none that seems to diminish his pleasure enough to cause the grin in his eyes to disappear. He dips the brush into his palm, running the bristles of the brush up his wrist and with a fluid motion, draws a vivid red liquid to the canvas. He's painting in blood. His own. A line here, a stroke there, the polished wet color shimmers beautiful on the white canvas.

I join the others now, growing in number, who have stopped their hurried lives to watch a creator. This wasn't scheduled and these people have things to do, yet they stand. Stand and stare at this man painting with the blood of his own hand. The picture takes shape and with each new stroke now, the newly created form of a tree on the canvas does something quite unexpected. It grows leaves. Leaves on each branch. Small leaves that, once grown, fall away from the painting to the sidewalk below. He picks one up and hands it to a man not yet fifty but teetering on a cane clearly frail and weak. Words of instruction are exchanged and the man places the leaf to his tongue and once he does he's weak and frail no longer.

The group becomes a crowd, many now waiting their turn, breathless reaching, gently clamoring for the leaves that fall to the ground with each brushstroke of crimson life. He turns to his left and looks directly at me and says, "My creative power is all about life, and my creativity released through you with both gather life (nods his head to reference the crowd) and release life (nods his head in reference to the healing happening all around us)." As he turns back to the canvas he playfully says, "Are you ready?" I am now far more interested in the future I have been drawn to dream into, than I am in the present moment for I am conscious of a creative force within me that screams to be free. I awaken, barely aware that I have slept.