Back in the day, my grandmother would crank Benny Hinn up so loud the living room shook like Pentecost all over again, while I sat there half-buried in thick Reformed books that tried to button faith and miracles up in a nice, safe theological straight-jacket. My roots in the baptism of the Spirit were too deep, and they refused to let go of the baptism of the Holy Ghost and the wild miracles that ride shotgun with Him. I’ve shaken off some of those faithless influences—which I now regret—but that deep hunger for real, tangible power never cooled one degree. It only got hotter, like fresh oil poured on a flame that refuses to die.

I remember watching those powerful moments back then and thinking Benny was pushing the theatrics way too far. Then lately I stumbled across those collage videos—dramatic clips chopped and diced with goofy sound effects, turning his anointed ministry into comedy sketches starring the Holy Ghost as the punchline. Man, my spirit grieved when the Spirit became the punchline just to mock Benny. When you openly mock someone who’s out there laboring to obey God’s direct command to preach the gospel and baptize people in the Holy Spirit, you’re stepping right up to blasphemy against the Holy Ghost.

Thank God Benny was doing exactly what the Lord told him—honoring the Holy Ghost by valuing that ministry and actually getting folks baptized in the Spirit and hungry for more of His power. Whether the presentation carried too much flair or not became totally irrelevant in my eyes. He was obedient, and raw obedience to the Spirit’s commission is what the Kingdom celebrates with shouts of joy.

Back then I thought it was too much. Not anymore.

And here’s the richer truth that’s been burning in me lately, straight from that word on being “You’re Fu@king Awesome”: when you wield the powers of the Holy Ghost, God shows off by showing off through you. Since God often shows off with flair, if we want to display Him properly, we need to do the same.

Picture Moses with the staff of God—the God of gods, the God of power, handed it over and declared, “You shall be as God to Pharaoh,” relatively speaking, from one human to another. Moses didn’t politely hand the staff over; he threw it down and watched it turn into a snake with full dramatic flair. And Moses cried out in longing, “I wish that all the Lord’s people were prophets and that the Lord would put His Spirit on them!” That wish exploded into reality the moment the baptism of the Holy Ghost arrived.

Now it’s you. You are Moses now with the staff. That really is you—wielding the power of the God of gods, standing as a god to the people around you through the very same Spirit.

Think about it like Zeus handing someone his lightning bolt and saying, “Go show off my power.” If that person just stood there calm, normal, zero flair, no thunderclap energy—just stoic professionalism—it would be out of step with the Greek god of power who likes to show off. But our God is the original, the God of gods who always moves with power and often with showmanship. Elisha didn’t whisper to the Jordan River; he slammed his cloak down like he meant it and the waters parted on command. That floating axe head, fire crashing from heaven, shadows healing people, and Pentecost with literal tongues of flame dancing on heads—none of that was stoic professionalism. The Bible is packed with these awesome, show-stopping moves because the God of power loves to display His power with flair through yielded vessels.

Think about Samson. God gave him a little bit of His power to judge Israel. But why kill a thousand men with a donkey jawbone, and not a two-handed claymore? The answer: pure edgy showmanship. As Samson so eloquently said—as if he was dropping a battle victory rap—he used the jawbone of an ass to pile their asses on top of each other in a giant ass heap. Och! It’s a modern day rated-R Hollywood movie. Samson did not say God made donkeys out of them, but that he made donkeys out of them.

But here’s the part many miss: Because Samson was using God’s power with that edgy flair, God made asses of the Philistines. That’s the point. God could have just swallowed them up in the earth in the middle of the night. God did this this way, because He likes to show off with His empowered saints, just as He likes to show off Himself as seen in the destruction of Egypt.

The heroes in your favorite movies and Hollywood blockbusters, the legends in the books you love—they stride in with power and show off just a little, striking that heroic pose, dropping the one-liner, making the moment epic. Where does that original script come from? It originates from the God of gods and His awesome saints showing off first. Showmanship married to real power was pioneered by God’s people yielding spiritual power. This is the prototype of which the heroes showing off in your favorite stories are merely the antitype. Spiritual heroes wielding authority with bold display are the original—the prototype, the original hero, the original showmanship.

If we can’t root for Elisha slapping the river with his cloak or Benny swinging that jacket with confidence, then we have no business cheering any movie hero either, because it all flows from God and His people first. Why did the prophet call down fire and bears on his enemies instead of a quiet heart attack in the night? Why did the disciples’ shadows have to heal people in such dramatic flair and not stoic professionalism in a quiet, respectable church service? Because the God of gods shows off! And so, if we are to correctly display God’s power, we need some flair when we do so—at least sometimes. He doesn’t hide His power; He displays it with splendor and awe. And because we are one body with Him in Christ, the God of power shows off through us—not only through raw miracles but through showmanship with the power.

To have showmanship without power would be a worse perversion of God if your goal is to display Him correctly. But to always have power without any flair, at least sometimes, would also be a perversion of God, because God likes to show off. This does not mean we willfully hunt for maximum ways to always show flair when we use the power of God—there are contexts where that would not be beneficial. In a teaching ministry, when you are teaching Jesus’ faith doctrine, you want the focus on hearing the word so faith can move mountains. Our point is simply this: showmanship with God’s power isn’t strange. Rather, if you never have any showmanship when wielding God’s power, that is the weird, strange, and out-of-place thing.

To have no showmanship while carrying this authority is out of step with the God of gods from the very beginning. Sure, we are to check if we are walking in love and/or if our motives are selfish. And yet, when you wield the power of the God of power, an awesome flair—at least sometimes—is the only right way to represent Him. Be like Moses and be a god to the people around you. Be awesome like Elisha and slap that cloak down like a war hammer, or like Benny and swing your jacket like a baseball bat, or like the disciples and just shadow-heal your neighbor. Do it all soaked in the power of the God of gods, and suddenly it’s not showmanship at all—it’s pure honor. It’s you being awesome, and this in return brings glory to the Awesome One, bringing Him the attention the world desperately needs to see.

Only someone like Paul, drenched in the same anointing, can step in and correct abuses the way he did with the selfish chaos in Corinth; when the faithless try, they end up blaspheming the Spirit. He didn’t mock from the bleachers; he corrected from inside the fire—with love, order, and demonstration—so the power could burn hotter, more frequently, and cleaner than ever.

Let’s get this right, family. Honor every vessel God uses to baptize in the Spirit. Get filled afresh yourself—pray in tongues till the inner man roars. Obey the commission without apology. Celebrate miracles with showmanship and bold displays. Be awesome and honor the God of gods by walking in His power unashamed, with a little flair that makes heaven smile and hell nervous.

Now is the time for a generation ready for greater works—with displays of heroic showmanship greater than we’ve ever seen.