My Childhood & The Church

As a child, my mother (Queen Mom) took us to church and I liked it for the most part. I loved the singing the most and I got a chance to play with the friends that I would only see on Sundays.

We often visited churches of friends and family and I learned that they were all very different. I know you can agree. I’ve attended Baptist churches, Methodist, Science of the Mind (Religious Science), and African Methodist Episcopal, Pentecostal, Lutheran, Islamic Mosques, Catholic churches, Seventh Day Adventist, non-denominational churches and Kingdom Halls (Jehovah’s Witness).

We even watched church on television (TBN) and that added a whole new dimension to what I came to know as “My Relationship with the Church”.

Having such a broad Spiritual exposure made me really curious about why God was so different to so many people. They all read the same Bible, so I thought. Have you wondered the same thing?

For instance, in some churches, women and girls were not allowed to wear pants, while men and boys were required to wear ties. Some wouldn’t allow women to wear makeup…which was BEYOND Me - HA! (My pastor jokes, “That’s not Holy, that’s Ugly!”)

Some wouldn’t allow girls to play sports. Some had women and men who would “Catch the Holy Ghost” and dance till they passed out during the singing. As a child I used to wonder why God would only choose those same few people to ‘touch’ every week. It was a mystery to me.

Some churches rejected members based on what they believed was ‘bad behavior’.  Most had an atmosphere of judgment and condemnation. And there was always an underlying feeling that you should be afraid of what God will do if you ‘mess up’.

Some were really quiet and the people would listen to the message in a very subdued atmosphere, while others had people shouting in agreement with the pastor throughout the entire sermon.  

I especially liked the ones that served lunch to the congregation after the service. :^) 

All in all, it was interesting to see so many different ways of experiencing God.

Church, for me, was never an every Sunday kind of thing. There were times when we would go every Sunday. Then there were times when we didn’t go at all.

Through it all, my mother (Queen-Mom) was always steadfast in the Word. She prayed every day. I watched her every night as she would fall to her knees beside her bed and pray to God. Although I strayed away from the practice, she did teach my sisters and me to do the same.

She imparted into us the importance of having a relationship with God, and she never used God as a means of manipulating us to do the ‘right’ thing.  Her answer was always, “pray about it”, even when I didn’t understand!  And we always would.

So, as a child, what was your experience like, with God or the church ?

As I grew older, I began to learn and notice some things that were very disturbing about the church. Things that made me question everything that I had been taught all those years. I’ll share more about it in my next post. 

(Continue to Learn about My Issues with The Church...)

My Silent Weekend

It was a beautiful Thanksgiving weekend in Nov 2000, and as Charles and I prepared for the feast that we would share alone together, he said to me in a sweet gentle voice, “Babe, let’s not talk this weekend, I just want us to have a silent weekend, is that OK with you?”

Imagine my reaction.  In my mind I was thinking, “You’ve gotta be kidding.  Have you lost your mind? This is not just any weekend. This is Thanksgiving weekend. Four whole days of saying NOTHING!  Are you CRAZY?”  My mind was racing. I thought, “He’s not mad at me. We’re doing pretty well actually.  Why doesn’t he want to talk to me ALL WEEKEND?  A whole 4-day weekend!”

So, after I collected myself, we made a deal.  I wouldn’t talk to him, but I would write down every thought, every joke and every comment that I wanted to say to him. Then on Monday, after the weekend was over, I would “Let Him Have it!”  He laughed and then agreed.

So there I was, still suffering from unbearable pain in my back as I cooked Thanksgiving Dinner.  I grabbed a spiral notebook and placed it on the counter with a pen on top just in case.  I was ready.

As I began to cook dinner, an idea popped in my mind.  I thought, “Ooh this is good, let me write that down.”  I continued to cook and more thoughts began to race through my mind.  I quickly jotted them down and returned to the stove.  I found myself writing so much that I began to worry that Charles would never keep his end of the deal. There would be too much to say by Monday.

I found myself writing thoughts, memories, projects that I’d like to start and reminders to myself.  Nothing was off limits. I wrote all day Thursday, all day Friday and all day Saturday. 

By Saturday night, I found myself curled into a ball on the couch in tears as though I had just suffered the beating of my life.  I couldn't stop the tears. I had read what I'd written and I realized that it wasn't Me who was writing. It was God writing through me... to me.   I was in shock, I was anxious, I was amazed, I was nervous, I was grateful but most of all, I was terrified.  

At the time, I wasn't in the church. In fact, I hadn't stepped foot in a church in almost a decade. To be honest, I had some serious issues with the church that I just couldn't get past. So this wasn't something I ever expected that God could or would do...especially for me.

What I realized was that throughout those 3 days, God had unveiled my life's assignment to me.  Not only had He revealed to me my purpose, He showed me how every step that I had taken in my life thus far had prepared me for it.   It was amazing!  Had it not happened to me I might not have believed it myself. 

He showed me that I would write books, many books.  Then He reminded me of times in my life when I was commended on my writing and my writing style. 

He showed me that I would speak to women and impact their self-esteem and teach them how to love themselves, the same way that I was learning to Love Me.  He showed me that I would, through this very story, be an instrument to show women how He wants to speak to them.

He told me that I would inspire a movement; a powerful assembly of women who knew how to hear from Him and who understood His true character by experience, not tradition.

Then He reminded me of all of the gatherings that I had in my home over the years teaching women about loving themselves.  I never saw more into that than what it was, a gathering of girlfriends. But even then He saw so much more.

Of course you can imagine that this is merely a nugget of what He shared with me, but I must admit, the weight of responsibility that was placed upon my shoulders that night made me more afraid yet more committed than I can ever remember. 

I was afraid because I knew that none of this would come to pass by my strength alone.  I knew that He would have to guide me through this. 

I was committed, because I felt chosen. I knew then that my assignment was much bigger than me. I knew that it required my dedication because I was the only one equipped to carry it out.  

My instructions from God were - “Keep Writing, be obedient and trust me.” And so I did.

Talk about re-ordering my priorities.  At the time, I was a business analyst for a software development company, on medical disability after having just been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia.  I was in excruciating pain, barely able to take a flight of stairs. How in the world was I going to do all of this?

Looking back, ‘how’ and ‘why’ were none of my business.  My business was to have faith, keep writing and move when I heard instruction.

That was Thanksgiving weekend of the year 2000 - 11 years ago. And so today, here I am...standing in the midst of the manifestation of that very weekend...sharing with you The Movement that has changed my life and the lives of women all over the world.

Continue on to my next post...