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...

Thursday, May 1, 2008

My Personal Narrative: Part 2

While there weren't many comments on my previous post, I received much feedback, which is encouraging. I guess we find it interesting when someone shares a little about how they developed as a person. Maybe there's even an element of encouragement to hearing someone else and realizing that, "I'm not that crazy after all." Anyway, thanks for the feedback and sorry for being a couple days late with the continuation. It's been an interesting week. So here we go:

After moving into the youth group a year early, I was introduced to the family that volunteered to lead us. This family consisted of a husband, wife, and two sons. We'll call this family the Z's. The wife of the family was an official "leader" in the church. What I mean by that is she would teach most of the time and would do things such as pray, cast vision and also give us wise counsel (This was before the term, "vision" was hip and businesslike in church circles. Nowadays, if you call yourself a "vision-caster," it's church-ease for saying that you are very important.). While this may have been Mrs. Z's job description, her work with confused teens and preteens also turned into a mentoring and mothering role. Also, the ministry of this family was not just limited to the wife, but extended to the husband, who quickly became a healthy model for what a good father and husband looked like, as well as the brothers, who were just generally cool and accepted many of us more dorky pubescent students.

It was while sitting under the ministry and tutelage of this family that I began to better understand who I was (as much as a confused young kid was capable of doing) and who God was. I learned that God loved me for me and not someone else's expectations of me. This is ground-breaking stuff! When you've been taught one way, and then find out that maybe not all of it was true, it changes your world. I learned that God was love and that he had a plan for me.
It was also at this time that some weird things started to happen at our church. People were getting healed on the spot and others were walking into the church with problems that were gone when they walked out. One instance that stands out in my mind is when a drug addict walked into our service and made his way to the front because his wife forced him (women have a way of doing that). The elders and pastors laid hands on him to pray for him and he fell to the floor weeping. I recently met with the former senior pastor of Forest Ridge, and he told me that that man is still clean from drugs and has been a huge help with local ministries. Another instance involves my dad. He was suffering from extremely bad low blood sugar. When he would wake up in the morning, he couldn't walk because he hadn't been able to eat while sleeping (which would create an entirely different kind of problem, if you know what I mean). He would literally roll out of bed and crawl down the hall into the kitchen so he could open the refrigerator and drink orange juice to spike his blood sugar. One Sunday morning, the pastor said he felt led to pray for someone's healing. Receiving a nudge from my mother, he walked down the aisle and didn't even make it to the front before fallling back and hitting the floor.

I know what you're thinking, and I don't really know how to explain it. The pastor didn't even notice my dad until his legs were flying up in the air. My dad got up and everyone was concerned (obviously). He said he felt fine and went back to his seat. He has never dealt with that problem since.

All of these experiences and the people surrounding me gave me roots and formed an understanding of the Christian life that I still look back at with fond memories. This church eventually dissolved and the Z family went on to do other ministries. We all still keep in touch and may even occasionally get together for coffee.
The next phase of my life to discuss will be college....and then, who knows what else (The possibilities are endless!)? Until then, be blessed.

More Later.......