Come Sunday…

The last few days I have been reminiscing about growing up in a small town and how nice it was not to have to worry about a lot of things we do now.

Parents didn’t worry about us playing outside in the dark as long as we didn’t drift too far from home. We knew that at 9 o’clock the siren from the fire station would sound the curfew that meant everyone under a certain age should now at the very least be in their own yards if not tucked inside reading a book or perhaps doing homework.

I grew up in church and had a mixture of friends. Some went to church with me; quite a few didn’t. I never really considered myself popular but everyone knew my dad was the pastor of the Pentecostal church on Cody Avenue. It was a good life. We didn’t really worry about how much money we had or what people thought about us.

Sure there was some expectation from my friends. They knew what I was about. They knew what I would do and what I wouldn’t. It never seemed to matter to them that I didn’t do all the things they did. I didn’t go to the theater; didn’t have a TV in my house; didn’t go to dances and no one even brought up smoking or drinking because they knew what I believed and what my Dad preached. If I would have done any of those things I truly believe my friends that didn’t go to church with me would probably have been shocked, maybe even disappointed. And so would a lot of my teachers.

And no I wasn’t perfect but my faith kept me living the life as best as I could, even if it meant repenting in my bed late at night before I fell asleep about being mad at someone.

In My House

You see in my house we ate dinner together as a family. We got up every morning before school to read the Bible and pray before Dad left for work. We read a lot of books, listened to mystery stories, Ranger Bill, and Uncle Charlie on the radio, and we played outside.

Looking back I am not sure how we didn’t get hurt more often with some of the forts we built and the bicycle jumps in the field near our house. We fed the pigs  and chickens of the landlord and he would give us a couple near the end of the year for our trouble. Dad worked several jobs it seemed but he always had time to go hunting and more importantly to be active in our lives.

Whether it was studying up on bees to tell my 3rd grade class about since I had bragged he grew up on a farm and had bees, ( I didn’t know it wasn’t as big of deal as it was in my head), or the time he helped me carve a piece of wood into a race car for the pinewood derby. He did a lot of things like that, but come Sunday he was on the platform leading worship, maybe singing a song, and preaching to us and telling us about the power of God and His love.  We had a lot of miracles in our church. It became so common that if someone had a need they were calling my dad to pray, sometimes before they called the ambulance.  I could tell you lots of stories about things that happened growing up. Maybe some day I will, but for right now I want you to remember the scripture that says ‘train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.’ That was and is my life.

The Other Family

I won’t mention their name but I am sure if you know me it won’t be hard to figure out who I am talking about. This family too ate dinner together. Usually most of it was homemade and from what I recall there was always fresh biscuits. They seemed to enjoy hanging out with each other but if you were to visit you would almost always hear one of them yelling at another.

Sometimes it was the adult yelling at a kid. Sometimes kids yelling and fighting with each other. Sometimes it was the kids yelling at the parent to be followed by a quick yelp as a hand or maybe a switch touched someone’s backside. I don’t know if they had a TV but you could be pretty sure if they wanted to watch something they figured out a way to ‘visit’ the neighbors who had TVs, even if it was ‘supposed to be babysitting.’

Remembering back, most of the kids in the family never finished school. It just didn’t fit with their life’s goal I guess. They didn’t really get involved in a lot of the stuff I did, although a couple of them hung around with me on occasion. I remember seeing black eyes and sometimes scratches on their arms and neck, but knew it didn’t come from the parents but most likely they had been in a fight with someone.

I spent the night there a couple of times and I don’t remember them reading the Bible and praying, but I do know that they had a couple of Bibles laying around. Most of them could sing fairly well and it was common for them to a sing a special in church or be part of a choir. They loved those old gospel hymns. It didn’t seem to matter what all happened during the week, come Sunday you knew that family would be in their Sunday best and sitting a couple rows back from the front of the church.

I remember their singing. I even remember some miracles that took place in their lives and lots of shouting and worship growing up with them. But I also remember the smoking, the chewing, the talking about dirty movies, and in general the chaos that was their lives. Sure, they did come to church. And I am certain they loved God, but the depth didn’t seem to be there when I look back.

The father was quick to point out what I should or shouldn’t be doing since I was the pastor’s son but the same rules didn’t seem to apply to his kids.

It has been quite a while since I heard from any of them. I know the parents have long since passed away and from what I have heard through the grapevine, none of the kids still serve God or even go to church. It is sad really. I wonder about them often. What happened in their lives? Is there still some place they can go to remember back to what it felt like to be slain in the altar or the worship that cascaded from the prayer rooms? What do they do on Sunday now?

Sunday…

We have a tendency to place a strong influence on going to church on Sunday. Whether you are a Pentecostal or attend another denomination, for most people come Sunday they are visiting a church somewhere. They might be quick to point out how important it is to be in church, or perhaps even look down their nose a bit if you aren’t there like they expect. And maybe they do miss you if you aren’t there but what is Sunday to them? Really?

Is it church? Is it worship? Is it a time filler before football? Is it just something they do?

Serving God is more than what you do on Sunday. Being a Christian does not mean you go to a church, pay your tithes, drop a few bucks in an offering plate and sing a song or two.

Sunday is the day we have come to delegate as time for worship, but serving God is what you do during the rest of the week. It is how you live your life with your family. It is the way you act in the supermarket when someone is slow. It is looking past that temptation to take that thing that isn’t yours or to forgive those who don’t quite act the way you expect them to.

Sunday should be a time of reflection, worship, thankfulness, and love for the Almighty. It is not about the pretty dress you have on, or the fact that you combed your hair a certain way, or the fact that you have your ‘assigned’ seat right near the back so you can run out to the restroom during prayer without anyone noticing.

Sigh…

I remember many services that were long but driven to worship. Celebratory times when people were baptized and it wasn’t just what we did because someone asked. Fellowship meetings where others who believed the same came together for some good preaching, singing, and worship and then stayed after long enough to chat and have a sandwich and chips.

I remember many who were overcome with the power of God and with long drawn out emotions as they bowed over at the altar. No one was going to drag them away; you just had to wait until they were done.

Everyone shouted Amen to the preacher and stood to their feet with their Bibles in hand excited about the presence of God. We believed in heaven and hell. We didn’t look for excuses as to why we weren’t there. We didn’t want to miss service because we knew if we did they were surely ‘going to have a good service.’

But the thing is most of those who used to do that aren’t there anymore. You might catch a glimpse of them around town but you can see their lives have take a different turn. It isn’t judging. It is more a sense of why? And no, going to church doesn’t make you a Christian. I really believe that. What transpires in your life during the week and how you spend time with your family is much more important. Do we have Bibles catching dust on the shelves? Or do we even know where they are anymore?

Come Sunday…

There are a lot of people who put the blame on others. For many years I have heard them say society started going down hill when they took prayer out of school; we need to get it back. And while I agree that played a big part it is not going to come back.

Besides, how is that going to help your child? Your wife? Your parents? Will having a Bible in school or prayer even reach them? Your kids used to go to church. They may have even spoke in tongues. Sunday School played a big impact in how most of us were raised, and yet most churches see it as a form of babysitting now. It isn’t about the word. It is about making sure someone watches your kids while you listen to someone theorize about why society is the way it is and that maybe we are just not forgiving enough. We just don’t understand them being the way they are. You have heard it. You know what I am talking about.

And yes, God forgives all manner of sin. I truly believe that. But I am sorry if you think getting prayer back in schools is going to make a difference. You are wrong. How about instead we start working on getting prayer back in our homes.

Crack open that dusty old Bible. Put down the phone, or the Ipad, turn off the TV and spend some time with God in your prayer closet. And come Sunday it will be a whole new day!

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Waiting On God

Some days are more of  a struggle than others. Things we expect to happen don’t always work out the way we plan. Many times unexpected events take place in our lives that alter our idea of what our destiny is.

When we are doing everything we know to do and we do not see results frustration can set in. Waiting on God is not an easy task.

Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord. Psalm 27:14

I know. The scripture can seem as a slam almost.  It can hurt even. Does God know what I am going through? Does anyone care?

We have all been there at one time or other.

But God said…

Maybe it was a dream you had where God showed you something amazing or perhaps someone prophesied over you in a revival meeting and we just knew good things were about to happen.

We have prayed, fasted, did our very best to trust in God, and yet the results we wanted did not happen. We think to ourselves ‘what did we do wrong?’ It must be someone’s fault somehow. God answers prayer right?

Impatience & Disappointment

One of our biggest hurdles in trusting God is learning to deal with our own impatience and being disappointed that things did not happen the way we expected.  We analyze and try and fix it. Maybe if we did it another way. Maybe we need to pray more. Maybe we need to move. We become driven to do something rather than just waiting on the Lord.  The problem we have becomes so big in our mind that in time we cannot see beyond it. Our problem begins to define who we are and defeat becomes our address.

We lose sight of the promises God has already given us, and our complexion, our attitude, our lives show it. We begin to blame others as well as ourselves.

Confessions

So, the last few days have been like this for me. Yes, I am still recovering from surgery a couple weeks ago. Doctors are very encouraged that they got all the tumor out of my body, and that I am recovering well. You would think I would be happy and more content than I have been in a while, right? Nope.

I have been discouraged because a couple of things I have been really needing were no longer available now that I have the money to buy it. And then it was service day today and I went excited ready with a  message on ‘Trusting God’ and guess what? No one showed up. No one! There is always at least a few show up at each service, but today when I was all prepared and looking past my disappointment from the last few days, nobody shows up to hear what I prayed about and prepared.

So, after waiting the allotted time, just in case some were late, or perhaps overslept, I started thinking about the promises God has given me and began to wonder if it was all me? Did I do something to mess it up?  Was it just my imagination?  Maybe God really doesn’t want to use me after all. I am trying to do the will of God.

So why is it so hard?  I came home feeling defeat as I changed clothes.  I had forgotten that most of the time when we face difficulties when we are in the process of trying to do what we feel God has called us to do that trouble is going to show up.

Delay Is NOT Denial

There are a multitude of passages of scripture where prayer was given by the prophets and nothing happened. There were delays in reaching the promise land. Even Jesus had to pray a couple of times more than once for someone to be healed.  We focus on the have-not instead of what we do have.  Our eyes get off the promise. Consider Abraham. God promised. Abraham got impatient, he compromised, the promise still came, and become of the compromise those two tribes from one family have been fighting for thousands of years.

So why do we stress about it? Its simple. We are afraid. We look at our abilities and realize that the promises of God are not in our control.

The delay or the slowing of progress does not mean He isn’t going to come through. It isn’t a punishment or discipline, although being raised on the pew we tend to think so, delay can actually be a gift.

How many times do we say we don’t have enough time? How many times do we wish we had more than two hands? We need a break?

But most of us really do not want that. We think hurrying through life, being busy, getting it done soon so we can move on to the next project. We think we have to be busy or it cannot happen.

Slow Down

We get afraid if things slow down then the promise won’t happen. We are afraid of what God might say in that slower moment; we are afraid of what He might ask of us; we are afraid of what we might see happening;  and we are afraid of how we will react to a change in the situation.  When sometimes all we need is to take a breath and realize that we are not the ones in charge.

We get afraid because we don’t trust God. Ironic isn’t it. Here I was going to preaching about trusting God, and I am faced with my own dilemmas about trusting Him.

Waiting on God

Did you ever stop to think that waiting on God might be the most important part? Not getting in such a hurry that we mess it up?  If God said… doesn’t that mean it is going to take place? Or is God a liar? If He said it, it will happen.

So I came home in my defeat and discouragement and got online and in moments came across a message.

Let Your Disaster Move You To Your Deliverance – Jeff Arnold

 

See the thing is we get so busy worrying, trying to do something to make it happen, we miss out on those quiet messages from God that move us toward our destiny.  Elijah kept looking for God in the fire, the earthquake,  and the wind, but God was in the stillness, in the quiet, in the waiting.

So next time it looks like the answer isn’t coming, or the promise has been denied, take a few moments with God and just wait patiently in Him.

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He Came Unto His Own

The last few weeks my life has been different. No, it may not be noticeable on the surface, and some who believe they know me well might not even catch it, but something happened recently to change me.

I do not think I am a better person, or that somehow I have reached a greater plateau but one morning a few weeks ago,  I had an experience that wakes me up in the night.

I grew up in church. There were times I even fell asleep on the pew. Good times, and a few times where I didn’t really want to be there, but there are lingering memories of days gone by that molded me into the person I am today.  Is that a good thing? I am not sure some days. I am human and I have my faults, but there beats within my heart a purpose that regardless of how I feel at any given moment, I know where I belong.

I have heard the sermons of the prodigal son, the good shepherd, and the crucifixion. My eyes have been swollen with tears as my mind painted a vivid picture of Christ hanging on the cross. I saw the beating of those thirty nine stripes across his back for my healing, and at times I do not understand why I struggle with health issues because I know the power in each of those blood spattered scars upon his back.

I have heard the wails of an old saint burdened down in intercession for a lost soul. Maybe it was their child, their husband, or perhaps just the burden for the lost was so intense the moan came not just from their lips but from the utter depths of their soul.

But did any of it change me?  Yes, to a large degree I have lived my life in the shadow of the cross. I have been the good child, that never really desired to stray to far from the altar. I wanted to be about ‘my Father’s business.’

Growing up in a pastors home was not an easy life. Back then, pride was not allowed, and a self-righteous spirit would have been quickly scolded. We were taught respect for the House of God, as well as the ministry. And if we took the name of Jesus in vain, well if we didn’t get a stern look, the shame we felt later when we were closing our eyes to sleep pricked our hearts with guilt and tears would flow down as we apologized to God for our behavior.   But we were still human and we made mistakes.  I have regrets to this day of my attitude, and some things I said or did that may have changed the course of someone else’s life. If I could, I would go back and change it, but that didn’t change who I was.

Like many when they reach the teenage years I rebelled. Oh, I never really did anything of consequence, but when it came to singing solos or being part of the choir, getting up to speak was not going to be my thing. I had no desire to be a preacher. If anything, I ran from it.

Yes, I had seen the good parts, but I had seen the struggles as well of my parents, and others in my family and close to me that were ministers, and I didn’t want any part of it.  A few years later I had a different feeling about it all, but at the time I had other dreams and goals.

I did all the things I was supposed to growing up. I even took some time to go to Bible School, and met some life long friends there.  Looking back I had many experiences that would later shape my life. Moments of excitement when I would preach and see souls come to God. Instances where I would pray for someone and feel the anointing so strong and see them experience their healing.  There were many good moments of ministry, and there were some heavily burdened nights of agony when I realized that the mission was a soul, and they seemed unreachable.

The last several years have been very hard on me. Health issues as well as personal trials at times have dropped me to my knees to where I thought I could not handle anymore. I began to understand some of the conflicts with self and the flesh that surely Jesus must have felt in the garden and on the way to Calvary.

Do I think I was tried like Him? No, but some of my experiences I believe have left me uniquely aware of the agony and perhaps at times, hopeless feeling He must have had. 

Around Easter every year for the last several years, I always feel a sense of guilt and questioning.  I will never really be able to completely ignore or erase these feelings not because of what I did but because of what I did not do.

It was many years ago when I was very involved in the ministry of my church, and I had taken a night to go watch a Passion play at a local church. Our church never put on any really big program, and it was not a church night so I didn’t think it would be an issue if I went for the one performance.  Little did I know that that experience would affect me many years later.

I think I went with a couple church friends, but to be honest I do not recall any of them. The impact that was made in my memory was not about who I went with, but rather a couple events that transpired while I was there.  The production was good. It covered a good amount of Jesus’ life in small glimpses, and then was more detailed when it got to the time Christ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey (yes, they had a donkey in the church), the Last Supper, and hanging Jesus on the Cross. But the moment that stands out in my mind was the Garden of Gethsemane scene.

Even though I had grown up with this message, and spent my life trying to do the right thing, and reaching out to others even to the point of ministry, that moment in time still brings tears to me even as I write this.  I felt like I was experiencing the agony Jesus was under as He prayed for the cup to pass from Him.  Paintings of Jesus in the Garden typically show a figure of Jesus with a beam of light showing down on Him from heaven. They depict him most often in some flowing robe with a calmness about Him.

But that wasn’t the way it was in reality. This was the moment of His greatest agony. This was the moment He was most human. I believe he writhed about, sweating, crying, maybe even screaming, as He begged for the pain He knew must happen to be taken away. Perhaps there was another way for mankind to be saved?

His clothes were disheveled, probably torn, and certainly dirty as He knelt, or lay upon the ground pouring out everything He had. Maybe He walked a bit in similar fashion to many old time preachers who would pour their souls out to God against the wall of the old church building, or stood there with His eyes turned down as many do at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.

No one really knows what it was like, but it wasn’t pretty. It was an old fashioned prayer meeting. I have been to some of those and they aren’t happy or joyful events most times, but they are burdened cries in the darkness, and stammering lips pleading with God for a soul.

The difference was, even though His closest disciples were with Him, He was all alone. At the Passion play I experienced this in living examples. I saw the agony He was going through, while those who should have spent a little more time with Him, knowing He had just given a heart rending speech to them at the Last Supper, knowing change was coming. But instead, they slept.

Looking around, He noticed, and walked over to gently wake them. He asked them to please pray with Him. He was in the hour or His greatest need, and instead of rising to the occasion, they slept. 

Have you ever really thought about that? When we pray, we are the ones asking God for something, but at this moment in His humanity, Jesus asked for something for Himself.  What if we were met with the same response when we asked of Him?

Again, He came to find them sleeping, and again asked for just a little bit of time for them to watch and pray with Him. And then finally a third time, He came to find them asleep again, and He let them sleep as the hour was that He was to be delivered unto the Priests and those that were determined to take His life.

To me, that is one of the greatest moments in the Bible.  He became most human at that moment and was in need, and those who were closest to Him, turned their backs. Yes, it is true that just a few hours later, Peter denied and even cursed Him, but this was a moment forever etched in my mind as life changing.  I recall the tears in my eyes as I realized just how alone Christ was at that very moment.  His very own people missed a huge opportunity to know Christ on another level.

A few minutes later I missed an opportunity as well, and it comes back to me every Easter.

At the end of the production, they invited people to come to the front for the ‘Sinners Prayer’ and I stayed where I was since that is not what I believe, but I recall seeing a young woman who couldn’t quite make it up to the front but was standing with tears streaming down her face, her mascara running, and obviously being moved by the spirit.

My heart told me to pray with her, but I was not a minister there, did not even believe the way most of the audience believed and so for me to step out when it ‘just wasn’t my place’ seemed like an irrational thing to do. I stayed in my pew, and saw her slowly make her way more forward and disappear into the crowd.

I will never get that moment back. I will never know what happened to that young lady.  I had a moment where I could have perhaps changed a life, and I didn’t take it. And for the rest of my life, I have to live with it.

Now, I am sure some are saying but you are taking one moment in time, and God understands. Surely, He does, but I could have made an effort. And I didn’t. I am just as guilty as the disciples who slept while Jesus poured out His soul.

He Came Unto His Own

John 1:11 states, 'He came unto His own, and His own received Him not.’ Jesus was not really accepted by his people. Sure, there were many who showed up when He was handing out miracles and doing good, but of the thousands who followed Him for teaching and miracles, only a handful were there always, and then when He needed them, they slept, they cursed, they denied they even knew Him.

Pilate wanted to let Jesus go. He saw no reason for Jesus to die. And if you notice, it wasn’t the poor, the hungry, the hurting that were screaming for Jesus to be crucified, but rather those in the ministry. It was some of those who He fed on the hillside. Perhaps one of those He stopped to hold their child as He ministered to their needs.

It was those who He encouraged and expounded the scriptures with that turned aside and even clamored for the death of Christ. Can you imagine? It wasn’t the Roman soldiers that wanted Jesus to die. It was those who were His own people. The church wanted Him gone. They didn’t like knowing He could see through their traditions and theologies. They felt threatened by what He knew and the authority at which even nature responded to His voice. They couldn’t let that continue. They had to destroy Him.

I have experienced similar behavior myself from some church leaders. Some of you know a lot of what I have been through but for the most part I keep it to myself. I haven’t ever been pushed aside by those we would call ‘the world’ or even other denominational Christians, but rather by my own people. I am certain that I am not the only one who has experienced this. If we are living the way we should and trying to make a difference in others lives, then it won’t be the outsiders or sinners that will attempt to cause us strife, but rather those that are counted among our own people.

We have preached it for years that our churches are supposed to be a hospital for the hurting, a shelter for the homeless, a comfort for those who feel alone. But instead many of our churches have become so bottled up with our own personalities and philosophies that many times, even the message of Christ does not reach the lost.

James 1:27 says, ‘Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.’

Understand this; I believe that there should be a respect for the House of God,  the ministry, and of course for Jesus Christ. I believe that some of our ideologies and even what we consider traditions were put in place for a purpose. They are not just some self-righteous rant by someone who decides that their way of living is better than the way someone else lives or dresses. There are some definite guidelines in the Bible that laid out for our direction that should not be messed with regardless of rationalization or lifestyle. Living Holy is still the way to go and it should not be compromised.

However, some have become so caught up in trying to build a dominion and grand edifices to the Lord, that they have set aside the very purpose of Christ. They have forgotten the very reason He came. He came to seek and save the lost. He came to heal and deliver. He came unto His own, and they rejected Him.

Maybe it is the Easter season and while I should be celebrating the fact that He rose again, my spirit is grieved within me.  There are situations in my personal life that trouble me, but not to the extent I wake up crying and burdened the way I am with seeing the lost upon the streets of my city.

Earthquakes, tornadoes, wars, strife all around us as the Bible says will be in the end of the age, and yet our church pews are being emptied out to make way for fellowship halls, basketball games, and to some extent open only to ‘those who can pay the cover charge.’

It seems the days when most of our churches were filled with the poor, the elderly,  and the children are quickly being taken over by those who would rather see the church as a business  or event center instead of a hospital. Many churches have went to one service on Sunday and have become so depersonalized chances are you don’t even know the other person at the end of the pew.

If Jesus were to walk through the back door would He even know it was a service? Or would He feel displaced because there was no one there like Him?

See Jesus was a homeless drifter. I know how that sounds, but He said, ‘Foxes have holes,  and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man hath no where to lay his head.’  Luke 9:58

And He came unto His own…

How many missed opportunities have we had? Are we losing sight of being a witness, or even just encouraging our brother and sister? Are we too busy to even notice the soul that is nearly gone? Not just the ones on the street corners, but the ones sitting next to us in the pew?

A few weeks ago, I was changed. I have noticed a greater number of people on the streets begging for money or work with their signs. It never used to be a common sight where I live. The few we saw were quickly rationalized to be drug addicts or lazy, and most quickly drove past.

At times, I have actually seen some who have turned begging on the street corner into a business. I watched one climb out of his motorhome, walk over to the corner with his cardboard sign, and stand there hoping someone would give him money.  My spirit wanted to tell him to go find work, but most of the time I didn’t really slow down I just kept driving.  But then one day it was different.

I was headed to Wal-Mart to buy a few groceries and as I rounded the corner I saw him. He was wrapped in several blankets pushing an old shopping cart filled with various odds and ends, and holding a small sign that simply said, ‘I’m Hungry.’ He was straight out of a movie, with a greying matt of hair and beard, an old stocking cap, and worn shoes. I don’t know how far he had come because I had never seen him there again.

I never really slowed down until I got to the doors of the store and I felt pricked in my heart. I had seen countless begging on that same corner and felt nothing, but this time was different.  Payday was quite a ways off, and the amount of money I had at the moment was meager but I couldn’t shake it. I was headed to the back to get my few items as usual, and on the way to the front I put most of them down except for the carton of water and went over to where they sell sandwiches.  I picked out one I would like and headed back outside.

I looked off into the distance where he had been standing and he was gone.  I knew I had to do something, so I went a few blocks out of my way to find him. I got out the vehicle, approached him with a sandwich and one of the water bottles. A tear came to his eye and he stuttered out, ‘Bless You.’

As I got back into my vehicle and drove off I felt different. I am not saying this to brag, and it brings tears to my eyes just reflecting on it, but in that old homeless mans eyes were a gratefulness that I hadn’t seen from anyone in a really long time. I felt guilty because I am not more grateful for what I have.  Sure, like anyone I have trials and tests. I have bills to pay, situations that only God can handle, but I should be more grateful. I should be spending more time worshipping and being loving and kind. I am striving to do better, but I know it’s a process. It won’t happen overnight. But I am changing.

See what I learned was this, ‘It isn’t a sacrifice unless I have to give something of myself to make a difference.’  I should be more willing to sacrifice after all Christ sacrificed everything when He took on Calvary, for me.

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Bring Back Truth and Holiness! Or Get Out Of The WAY!

I admit, tonight I am angry. In times past, some have told me I am too angry to be 'apostolic.' That somehow I shouldn't rock the boat or that I am trying to bring division. And on some level they may be right. However, there is a pervasiveness happening amongst our faith that is sickening and I feel like vomiting all over their shoes.

We like to be passive in our relations with others rather than standing up for what we believe. We think somehow if we keep being nice and play the game that somehow people will be won to Christ. Meanwhile our churches, our fellowships, our homes are filled with lies of the enemy and we serve God out of convenience rather than duty and honor. Even if we do win a few, how long will it be before they are just another face in the crowd as we line our pocketbooks?

The past several months I have been faced with trials that have seemed insurmountable. If it had not been for a few online friends, I may have succumbed to the pressures of life. I don't really have friends left in the church I attend, with the exception of a few who are related by marriage or such like. Even they have grown quiet rather than stand up and say the changes happening are wrong. I have sought solace with a few online who have seemed to be dedicated and true. I have spent countless hours being a friend to those who have been hurting and in turn being lifted myself. But I find myself seething tonight as I find out most of what I was led to believe was lies.

I want to say tonight in all sincerity, that it doesn't matter how much you drop in the offering plate. It doesn't matter if you sit on the front row of your church and dance everytime the music plays, or shout and amen the preacher. If you do not live the life when you leave that building, or you lie to your brother or sister, even the small lies, then you are not right with God.
It is a sad commentary the stories I am hearing from so-called friends who want to serve God, live holy, and even raise their children up right, but when they are faced with indecision or something hurts their feelings, their holiness and truth goes out the door. They give in to the pressures of life simply because they think they can repent later and that God will be okay with it all. We seem to forget that while it is true God is a God of Love, He is also a Consuming Fire!

Our spirituality means nothing if we play the piano on Sunday but do not dress, act, or live holy the rest of the week. We can sing and shout and run the aisles, but if we think we are fooling those around us, we really aren't. And God is not fooled at all.

How can you talk about how much you love the Lord, but cannot wait until you meet so-and-so, and when you do you excuse your behavior as an accident? The bible says emphatically not to lie. It also says "he that knoweth to do right, and doeth it not, to him it is a sin." Yes, I realize some of the doctrines we have held up as truth are only our personal convictions and we cannot back up with scripture. However, I have seen so many compromises over the past several years that have been swept under the rug. And while it may be true that this or that is not a sin, when we have let down on what we have believed or been taught in the past there is a destructive spirit that has come into our midst. The church is no longer a place of refuge but a social gathering.

I say in the fear of God, that if we do not get our act together and quickly, then the fire of God will refuse to fall upon our minstries and He will take his spirit from us. We are kidding ourselves if we think we are what we are supposed to be. Mark it down, judgement is going to come to the house of God. It just depends on whether we are staying holy or in the way of the move God wants to bring to his church.

There is a reason the scripture is in the bible that says "two will be in the field, one will be taken and the other left, two will be grinding at the wheel, and one will be taken and the other left, two will be in the bed, and one will be taken and the other left." Somehow, we have forgotten that the easiest sin to do is to lie. It comes when we make excuses for our behavior, or when we get caught doing something we know we shouldn't, or when we pretend to befriend someone, all the while knowing we are only friends because we want something from them. The second easiest is apathy. That word simply means we don't care enough about what is happening around us to do anything about it. We cover it up by saying. "We are praying for you," or "let God handle it." Truthfully, we know usually that something isn't right, or that we are complacent, but it is too much of a bother to do anything, so we sit and grow lukewarm. There is a possibility we will regain our fire, but the person on the pew next to you may not. I guess that is okay with us.

I wonder what would happen in our churches, if God took the blinders off our eyes and we could see every sin that each individual, in the pews or the pulpit, has in their life, floating over their head. Would we scream? Would we still listen to our pastor? Would we run from the church in terror that everyone knows my sins? Or would we run to the altars and take those next to us with us?

I know in my own life, I am far from perfect. There are things in my life that I struggle with and that I desperately need God's help with. However, I am so sick of phonies and pharisees, that I have come to the determination that I am going to do something to change things. I realize I will not be popular, and most will hate me most likely. But something has to change. It has to return to the values and principles that were ingrained in us, when we first found God.

We don't need new programs or methods to reach the lost. What worked in the past, still will work. We don't need new songs, because the songs we sing are outdated and boring. If God blessed and the power fell back then, it still will when the sisters cries unde the anointing as she sings. We don't need to add strobe lights, and rock bands to our churches to get the young people involved. We need to teach them respect for the house of God and get them in the prayer rooms on their knees where we should be too.

It seems to me as the size of our congregations grew, and as we replaced those hard wooden pews with padded seats, we also padded our message and we pushed God out the door. Bloody, disgusting truth of what happened on Calvary has been replaced with a pasteurized version that everyone can swallow. Basically, we have put makeup on our ministry and sexed up our religion.

But, it isn't the prettiest saint that is going to be the first in line thru those pearly gates. It is the pure and undefiled before God that are going to be the only ones making it in. Truth is not a multiple choice decision. It is either truth, or it is a lie. We need to get back to core values, spending as much time in prayer and bible reading as we do in paying attention to the news or to our favorite tv show or even novel. Actually, if we spent half as much time in serving God, as we did in other things, we would see a revival that would shake our world.

Someone is going to do it. Is it going to be you? Is it going to be me? If you cannot stand living holy and doing the right thing, then step aside, because it is coming and if you aren't part of it, you will be run over. So get in it, or get out of the way.

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