The Journey----back

I'm a rebel at heart. I've always been that way. Don't believe me? Well my family could tell you some stories. And admittedly, more often than not, my way was far from the best way to accomplish anything. Being somewhat hard headed about many things, I had to learn the hard way. And guess what, I’m still a little hard headed, but learning that in all things----there is a lesson to be learned.

These days I feel the rebel rising up in my chest, burning and inching its way forward again after all these years. It dances inside my head, humming a tune and giving the world the well known finger. However, this time I’m not alone. My husband and I are now the rebel rousers, bucking the authority so to speak. As a family we’ve decided that we will no longer attend Church. It’s not a decision that we came to quickly or lightly. Truth is we got hurt, again. Imagine that, getting hurt by godly people. Reminds me of Beth Moore’s book, When godly people do ungodly things. But like I said before there’s always lessons to be learned.

Memories of my life in church came to me like shadows casting themselves on walls. Clips from a movie, if you will, staring me. Like most people in the South, I grew up in the church. It is a small church in a small community that my mother and her siblings grew up in. I sang in the choir, taught children’s Sunday school and was the Sunday school recorder. You know, giving the report of how many attended, how much was collected. I was quickly immersing myself in church duties. I remember Homecoming celebrations, which brought people out in droves who normally didn't attend church. Shopping for that perfect Easter outfit, Sunday School conventions where we attended other churches such as this one. Our church congregation was small, filled with mostly family, and if we had a piano player on a particular Sunday it was considered a blessing. Otherwise we just used our hands and feet as instruments. Our church choir was small but our voices rang through the church as if we were the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. My grandfather was the head Deacon and worked tirelessly to make sure that the church served the community. There were times when we'd only have 5-10 people in the congregation, but that never deterred anyone from praising God, it never mattered to the "old saints" how many people were there.

Yet, even then I was different.......I was the rebel. It was me who asked questions like, “why do we have to wear dresses and pantyhose to church, Jesus doesn’t care how we come.” Dare I buck the authority and put on a pair of jeans. We’ll not in my mama’s house, and I tried. I'd watch the pastors as they sweated, hollered, about the goodness of God, about the dangers of hell, and how Jesus was the way. People would stand up and shout out of excitement, they'd wave white handkerchiefs, and nod their heads while saying amen amen, preach preacher. It was all alien to me. I'd just let my mind wonder....wonder why when someone sung a song it was more of a concert...it was their platform and they were Whitney Houston. I wondered why everyone "acted" up in church like they were holy, and had no compassion, empathy, or love for anyone else. For all the latest gossip all you had to do was go to church. But it wasn’t gossip as long as they put, “Bless her heart, she needs Jesus” at the end of everything. I wondered why some of the churches I went too were like walking down the runway and I was the model on display so they could converse back and forth about what I was wearing. I've seen those who came to church dressed in their best taken in back rooms and given "more appropriate" clothing to wear. And they never returned.

Once I was 18, I left the church. I had grown tiered, weary of it all. If I could have, or rather had enough nerve I would have risen up out of that pew and shouted screamed to the tops of my lung. “You have created traditions of men that are killing us, and driving us away from the very arms that you want us to run to.”

If you read my last post, you understand my view. I’m tiered of the clicks, the complacency, the worship wars, the lies, and people’s need to keep the traditions of man. When I read Acts there are no similarities to what the church has become now. And no, we are not forsaking the assembling of our brothers and sisters in Christ. We will gather in worship, we will pray and we will continue to pursue Christ with a passion. We just refuse to do it man’s way. We’ll go and visit at times with others also, but don’t look for us in the pews doing the “church” thing. Were gonna do it God’s way.

What's happening with our Churches?

"The first lesson we learned was how to count the cost. In Egypt, our theology is the theology of pain. It is not a theology of prosperity. We don't know the theology of prosperity, but we know Jesus."

I took this quote from a magazine that I subscribe to. The Voice of Martyrs Serving the Persecuted Church. When I read this magazine I find myself envious. Many may find this strange, or even down right crazy. By comparison, we Christians in America are spoiled, and ungrateful. We measure God's love in what he gives, what he takes away, and what he allows to happen (good or bad). Dare I say that we've become lazy, worldly, and selfish. Church for us is about building great "churches" having great youth programs, great worship music, and numbers. Church has become religion, with no relationship with Jesus. It's become something that we do every Sunday and Wednesday night. Do we really know what sacrifice is, to die for the cause of the kingdom, to not know if we'll ever see our family again? Do we know what it truly is to forsake all for Jesus---to leave it all behind? Do we know what it is to not have the freedom to read our bibles, meet with others ? Sadly, most of us don't know and really don't want to know.

Each Sunday morning we gather in buildings critiquing the music, gossiping about brother and sister so and so. All while our brothers and sisters in Christ are suffering for the cause. We gripe about the pastor's message, how long it was. We complain about how long praise and worship was or how bad it was. When we get mad or get our feelings hurt we just leave and join another "church"---or we just start a new church. Not to say that there are not instances when leaving a church is warranted, because it is. But for so many there's nothing warranted, its because our toes have gotten stepped on.

When I look at those who have been killed, tortured, and imprisoned never once have they wavered on their love for Christ. They are steadfast, faithful to the very end. Ministry doesn't equal money, worldly possessions, silver and gold, but rather knowing that they are reaching others for Christ and adding to the kingdom. They do not take their tribulations as punishment or a curse but welcome it, because they truly know where their inheritance lies.

As I write this post thousands are rounded up like cattle, beat within inches of their life, accused of blasphemy- all for Christ. The above quote says it all, doesn't it? I'm sure that there are those who will read this and critique it with great words of condemnation, challenge my thoughts, and tell me I'm wrong. But ask yourself this question----how far would you really go for the King?

I'm not sure about you, but personally I've wasted enough of my life over mundane things. Are we ready to really do the will of the Father? Are we ready to step out of our comfort zones and walk out on faith. Are we really ready to trust him? I am!

Reading Acts has really placed things in perspective for me! We do "church" instead of being the church of Christ. I'll leave you with a quote from another brother in Christ who faces death daily for the cause of Christ. When asked his thoughts on what the Apostle Paul calls tribulations He responded with the following:

"I think that suffering is a most beautiful part of the Christian faith because Christianity without pain, without suffering, without hard times is like the ready-made food. There's nothing true in it. It's very superficial, very shallow." And may I add--he did not say suffering is the only part of the Christian faith, but "a most beautiful part."



Father forgive me for treating you like a genie in a bottle. I thank you for the wake up call, the probing of my heart and showing me the order of things. It's so much clearer now. The kingdom suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.

Silly Bandz

For those of you who don’t have children, you may not be aware of the current epidemic that is currently sweeping our country, much like the Beanie Baby pandemic (which I confess to totally being right in the middle of the craziness myself) . This new epidemic has caused much civil unrest in our home at times. We’ve broken up more fights & threatened a ban on this product that’s suddenly brought every child under its evil spell. Some of you may already know what evil I’m speaking of, if not I’ll give you a hint. They're bracelets made out of thin rubber in different shapes and objects------SILLY BANDZ, is their proper given name.

Somewhere the creator of this new craze is sitting basking in the delight of knowing that something so simple ( which most of us wish we would’ve thought of the idea) could become so popular with children all while raking in the big bucks. There is nothing special about Silly Bandz. They can’t do tricks, fly or anything spectacular. Silly Bandz are nothing more than colorful accessories on the arms of children everywhere, sometimes clear up to the elbow. I’ve seen my children beg, borrow, trade, & deal just to own a pack of bands. Now seeing how my children love these slivers of rubber, and how they react to just the prospect of owning more, Mama is now using their love for Silly Bands to her advantage.

Suddenly chores get done, behavior improves, and payment is fairly cheap. I'm seriously hoping that the power that these things hold will continue through out this new school year.

Desperately Seeking Jesus

I knew it would be the last time I’d see her again. The chemotherapy had long stopped working and everything up to this point was more palliative than anything.
Today she was sitting up in her chair. Today she’d be going home to live out the last of her days. Yet, in the back of my mind I believed that healing would come, come and take all the pain from her body that had been eaten by cancer.

Cancer had aged her. Chemo robbed her of her crown and glory. In all her pain she managed to laugh and smile. In all her suffering she was persistent, steadfast, and faithful…to the end. And even in the end, when she knew that no healing would come through the hands of man, only through the Father, she embraced the outcome…whatever it may be.

I told her often how brave and beautiful she was. We prayed together sometimes, holding hands around her bed desperately seeking Jesus. Desperately seeking him to come and move in her situation. Lord 47 is just too young to die. I’d think to myself.

She passed away New Year’s Eve. I imagine her carried away in the arms of angels to meet her savior. In her sickness I wonder how she cried out to Jesus, how he wiped the tears from her eyes when the pain was so much she could no longer bear it. I wonder what her prayers were for her family after she was on this earth no more. I often wonder how her life changed after her diagnosis. I wonder how desperate she became for Jesus, and how he worked in her life because she sought him no matter what. I may never have the answers to these questions but one thing she taught me….be desperate for Jesus, and seek Him through it all.

This year I won’t make any New Year’s resolutions that I know I’ll break. This year I won’t promise to go to the gym, loose weight, etc…this year I’ll desperately seek Jesus with all of my heart, every day, every minute, and every second, to walk with him no matter what! I’ll love harder, stress less, and trust Him more.

Lord forgive me for my selfishness, for making it all about me. Forgive me for putting you last when I should have placed you first. One thing is for sure, when test, and trials come they do come to make us stronger. Thank you for allowing me to know your daughter in Christ. Though she is home with you now, she taught me how to be desperate for you, no matter the obstacles!

Growing Pains

Ricky, why do you always do that?” I say to my oldest son. As he stands there I realize that he’s actually pondering the question in his mind. After carefully considering the question, he answers “I don’t know. I guess because I’ve always done it like that.”

He continues to work on his homework, and he repeats the mistake I just called him on.
“Ricky, didn’t I just tell you there’s a better way, a simpler way to get the correct answer?”

He just stares back at me with this blank stare, never really answering my question he gives a quick shrug of the shoulders and finishes up his work. After checking his work there were a few answers that were wrong. After trying to show him the correct way to do the work, I concede defeat and give up. He’ll have to learn by his own mistake. The next day, it was homework time again. By this time I’m sure that Ricky is dreading it.

“Mama, I got my papers back from my homework we did last night.” He handed over the papers and gave me that look, and said “you were right mom.”

“See honey, if you just slow down and listen to me.” I say to him, feeling somewhat vindicated. And that’s when I had an ah ha moment. You know the moments when the light comes on and it suddenly hits you like a ton of bricks that the lesson you thought you were teaching to your child, was turned around and you had become the student. How many times had I done just as my son did? How many times had I told God, I’ve got it? And how many lessons had a learned the hard way?

If I’d simply just listened and done as I was told, how much heart ache could have been saved on my end. I guess we are more like children than we’d like to admit at times. We get caught up doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. These are the growing moments. The times in life that God is killing, pruning away that thing that is not bearing fruit, or the wrong kind.

It is our imperfections that call us to the Cross. It's our human condition that brings us to the feet of Jesus. Even when we blow it he doesn't say I told you so or rub it in. He's not sitting on his throne wagging his finger in disapproval. There's no condemnation for those in Christ!

I Know A Change Is Gonna Come

"I know a change is gonna come, if only I can just touch the hem of his garment", she said to herself as she followed the crowd. Shame and desperation had brought her here. Physician after physician had claimed to provide the healing she so desperately sought, but they all failed. So many had called her cursed. According to the other women in the village, God was punishing her for her sins. After all, its normal to bleed but not have a flow so long and so heavy that she remained continually unclean. They had all taken her money, and the shame was still there. You are cursed with a curse…the only diagnosis any of them offered.

She'd heard the rumors of a man but not just any man. He called himself the son God, who had performed miracle after miracle. And a miracle she needed.

"I believe, I believe" she whispered, anticipating her move. Immediately she found herself on her knees crawling through the crowd of people who pushed and shoved and pressed their way toward Jesus.

Stretching out her arm her fingers grabbed the hem of his garment with boldness and determination, and faith that could move a mountain. She wanted to shout for joy, she wanted to run through the streets praising God.

"Who Touched Me"

Anywhere but here, she thought. The reality of what just happened made her cower in fear.

Again, Jesus said "Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me." The crowd was mystified. People as far as the eyes can see and he asks who touched him, thinking to herself.

Knowing that she couldn't just retreat, there at the feet of Jesus she confessed in the midst of the crowd. At his feet she laid her shame, defeat, and pride.

"Daughter your peace has made you well; go in peace."

No condemnation, no scolding, no judgment, no punishment, just love.

Here I am Lord, grasping the hem of your garment. My shame kept me from coming boldly to your throne. Today I bring you everything that has bound me with chains. Today the prison doors are open and I no longer dwell in darkness, you have taken what was broken and made it new. I am your Daughter!

At The End of The Hall

I wondered if anyone noticed her. And if anyone did notice, would they care enough just to stop? There she lingered outside the hospital room trying not to loose herself, her composure. It seemed as though she was hanging on to every ounce of her sanity that she could muster. Brave, determined, but at the same time....defeated.

My task at hand was to make it to the mailbox and back to my office to finish up my work for the day. There are always days like this on this floor. Death, tears, pain, live on this floor.

As I moved closer to her, I could see she was crying. Her eyes were puffy and pink and drained. "Can I give you a hug?" I asked reaching out to her at the same time. All she could do was shake her head. I grabbed this sister in my arms and loved on her. As we stood in the hall, people continued to go by us without thinking twice. She told me her husband was dying. She told me he wasn't going to make it much longer. She took my hand as we walked into her husband's room. There he lay, struggling for every breath, unaware that anyone was there. "Can we pray?", I asked her.

After we prayed I left their room, with peace. I learned later that day, as I was leaving to go home, her husband passed away shortly after me, her, and her daughter stood in his room and prayed. It was an honor to stand in prayer with this family. Sometimes we are called to just listen, to give a hug when needed, or to stand in prayer....to be Jesus to others. We are the body of Christ.

Where one or two are gathered in your name, there you are in the midst. Lord, continue to show us opportunities to be more like Christ..reaching out in love to do your will Father. As we go through life continue to mold us and shape us to be imitators of You as dear children.