Tuesday, May 27, 2008

My Personal Narrative

The Footnote:

I've been dying to give the next part of my personal narrative, but a lightning storm fried our modem at home, and my work schedule has not allowed for enough time to give to such personal exercises as blogging. Thank God for things like birthdays. I turn 26 today, which means that even though it's a work day, I can still choose the option of saying, "I think I'll work out of the office today." Anyway. Someone commented on my last entry and asked me the question, "What happened to your old church? If God was visiting in such powerful ways, what happened to make the enterprize go belly-up (These are not his exact words of course)?"
Here's what I remember (Remember, these memories are years old and may or may not be 100% accurate. I was 14 at the time.):

The church at the time was going through an interesting period. Miracles like the ones that I wrote about in my last entry were an almost weekly occurrence. People were losing their addictions, coming to Christ, and we had developed a relationship with residents at a dilapidated trailer park up the street. All seemed to be going well, but underneath the surface, there was a quiet tension that people could feel, but no one could "put their finger on."

We had regular revival meetings at the church in which we would bring in speakers and guests from around the country who were gifted in specific areas. For one such revival, we welcomed a renowned Church of God pastor by the name of Claude Robold. Claude spoke every night with fervor and opened up people's minds to the Holy Spirit and his power. One event stands out in my mind as a defining moment in the life of this church. It was Claude's last night with us. When he got up to speak, he looked incredibly disturbed and began his message like this: "It's not terribly often that this happens, but last night, God gave me a dream about your church and I'm supposed to share it with you. In my dream, a man was standing at a boating dock. He had one foot in a boat and the other, he had placed solidly on the dock. There was a voice calling to him, saying, 'Push off! Go into the water. There is so much to explore, so much to experience.' The man cried out in response, 'I can't! I'm too afraid!' I woke up immediately after this dream worried, and asked The Holy Spirit what this means. In an unmistakeable voice, he told me that the man represents your church. He says that you are at a pivotal point and you must make a decision who you will trust. If I were you, I would trust him, because there is much to be done."
It was not too long after this happened that the church folded.

I don't blame any specific person or groups of people for this happening. I know that in the aftermath, many were hurting and angry, but over time, we found that we had all grown because of what happened. Out of that church, many of the youth who attended are in some form of ministry and the laity of the church went on the help plant other churches and lead vibrant ministries around our area.

Part 3:

After that particular stage in my development, I became acquainted with some great friends who attended a church in a small town outside the vast metropolis of Tulsa. That town is called Sapulpa (Oklahoma towns are so much fun to pronounce). So my parents would make the 30 mile trip to Sapulpa twice, sometimes three time a week. Looking back now, I realize what an incredible labor of love that was for them, especially since they attended a different church. The group at Sapulpa embraced me with open arms. The pastor's oldest son had an obsession with the Beattles and I felt welcomed as a part of his family (thanks Steveorino). Friday nights consisted of driving around this small town and flirting with girls at local burger joints (man we were cool). If one of us was handed money by our parents, we would chip in and buy feminine products and red Kool-Aid. I carried a Super-Soaker in my car and we would slap a maxi-pad onto the gas pump of an old country truck stop and spray it with the red liquid. This was "living the dream" to us.

When we weren't disturbing the peace, we honestly were studying the Bible or talking about what it meant to be a hormone-enraged Christian at the height of puberty. I spent several years at this church, and this groups of friends deeply enriched my life. I am grateful for those types of memories. Eventually, the pastor left that church to start another ministry to the unchurched population of the area. I quickly followed and continued to ask the question, "What does it mean to be the people of God?"

More later...

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