Marked by His Presence: Why Enfield, Connecticut Still Matters

Author and respected Bible teacher R.T. Kendall once made an observation that stopped me in my tracks. He noted that there were two places on the Earth where there seemed to be a residue of the fear of God — a tangible sense of the lingering of His manifest presence.

One was Israel.

The other?

Let's just say I was blown away by R.T.'s answer.

Enfield, Connecticut.

You're probably thinking the same thing I did. What? Really?

The Sermon That Shook a Town

It was in Enfield, Connecticut that one of the greatest minds in American history stood before a congregation and preached a sermon in nearly monotone delivery, reading it straight from his notes — and all of Heaven broke loose.

The man was Jonathan Edwards. The sermon was "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." The year was 1741. And the place was Enfield, Connecticut.

What happened that day has been recorded in countless accounts of American church history. Men and women gripped the pews. Some cried out in terror of judgment. Others wept uncontrollably over their sin. The Spirit of God fell on that meeting in such a weighty measure that the preacher had to pause and ask the people to compose themselves so he could continue.

That was nearly three centuries ago. And according to R.T. Kendall, you can still feel the residue.

God Marks Places With His Presence

Why does this matter? Why am I writing about a small New England town that most Christians couldn't find on a map?

Because God marks places with His presence.

We certainly don't worship places. Far from it. Scripture is clear that our worship belongs to God alone, not to geography, buildings, or monuments. Jesus Himself told the Samaritan woman that true worshipers would worship in spirit and in truth (John 4:23–24), not bound to a particular mountain or temple.

And yet, Scripture is equally clear that God does mark places. He marks them with altars, memorials, and stones of remembrance. He tells Joshua to set up twelve stones from the Jordan so that when future generations ask, "What do these stones mean?" the story of God's deliverance can be retold (Joshua 4:6–7). He meets with Jacob at Bethel, and Jacob calls the place "the house of God" and "the gate of heaven" (Genesis 28:17). He tabernacles with Israel in the wilderness. He fills the temple with His glory in Jerusalem.

These places memorialize what God has done in the past, and they provoke us to cry out for Him to do it again.

The Cry of "Do It Again"

When I pray, "Do it again," I am not asking for a repeat of revival's greatest hits.

I am not asking God to rewind history and replay 1741 Enfield, or 1904 Wales, or 1906 Azusa Street. Those moves of God were for their moment. They were real, they were weighty, and they changed the world in ways we are still benefiting from today. But I am not praying for a reenactment.

I am asking for the Spirit of God to do something landscape-changing in our world today. In our cities. In our nations. Now.

The prophet Habakkuk cried out,

"O Lord, I have heard the report of you, and your work, O Lord, do I fear. In the midst of the years revive it; in the midst of the years make it known; in wrath remember mercy" (Habakkuk 3:2, ESV).

That is the cry. Not nostalgia. Not a yearning for the good old days. A raw cry for God to move again — fresh, new, and landscape-changing — in the middle of our years.

What Happens When God Moves

I don't claim to know every dimension of what a landscape-changing move of God looks like. God's ways are higher than ours, and His methods rarely fit neatly into our expectations. But Scripture and church history give us some consistent markers.

When God moves, the sick are healed. The demonized and tormented are liberated. Righteousness exalts a nation (Proverbs 14:34). Charity flourishes, and charitable acts multiply. Unrighteous laws and leadership are challenged. Sin that has been celebrated and affirmed is confronted.

And the voice of the revived ekklesia — the church of Jesus Christ — becomes what Martin Luther King Jr. once described as the "conscience of the state," pushing back against principalities and powers.

Revival is not a private experience reserved for the emotional comfort of the saints. Revival is a public awakening that confronts darkness wherever it has taken root — in hearts, homes, cities, and nations.

Why I'm Going Back to Enfield

I am getting ready to return to the Enfield area again (Springfield, Mass - which is minutes away). And I am filled with great expectation.

Why expectation? Because the same God who broke loose in 1741 is the God of today. The residue R.T. Kendall described is not the echo of a God who once was. It is a breadcrumb trail reminding us of a God who still is. The same Spirit who fell on Jonathan Edwards' congregation is the Spirit who is poured out on all flesh in these last days (Acts 2:17).

I will be ministering in New England the first weekend of May, and I am asking for prayer.

Pray that the residue would become a fresh downpour. Pray that the fear of the Lord would return to New England. Pray that Heaven would break loose again — in Enfield, in Connecticut, in every corner of the northeast where revival fires once burned brightly and have since grown cold.

Your Turn

Here is my question for you, reader: What are the marked places in your life? Where has God moved in your family line, your city, your region? What are the altars of remembrance that you can return to — not to worship the past, but to provoke a present cry?

"Do it again, Lord."

Not a repeat of revival's greatest hits. Something landscape-changing. In your life, in our world. Today.

See you this weekend in springfield!

I will be ministering in Springfield, MASS this weekend (within 15 mins of Enfield, CT)