Hook, Line and Sinker: chapter 3

I stuck it out with the Catholic Church for two years after my salvation. After my life changing experience with God, the Catholic services no longer struck me as interesting, pious or holy but rather dry and rote. I had been taught by my precious mother that we were part of the one true church started by Peter himself.  However, the Catholic Church I had experienced was not anything like the church accounted for in Acts and although Peter was a paramount part of this Biblical model, something wasn't lining up. I very much wanted to believe my mom so I talked to the priests about my concerns. I never received an answer that came remotely close to answering my questions. To top it off, the priests were clearly annoyed that I would ask such questions. I became increasingly indignant with the Catholic Church for not meeting my needs and not answering my questions adequately.  

It broke my heart to break my parent’s hearts but I had to leave the church and find my own spiritual way.   I felt like a withering grape on the vine.  I had an overwhelming drive to know more about God and His Word. It was in my second year of college, when I was nineteen years old, I blindly skipped off into Christendom without a map.  I wandered from this church to that church for awhile but “Lively Church” was where my happy-go-lucky skipping finally landed me.  The only thing that I knew for sure about this place was that they did believe in speaking in tongues.  This was enough for me.

I continued going to Lively Church where the “prophetess” had visited early in 1987.  It was the excitement and the energy of the place that attracted me.  It seemed like a lot of fun.  I diligently listened to the pastor’s teaching.  At first, most of the notions he presented were difficult for me to grasp.  Nonetheless, I found his concepts captivating and my ravishing hunger seemed to be satisfied.   What I also found to be just as striking as the pastor’s teaching was the rich fellowship of fellow college students who attended the church as well.  I found the content of their numerous campus discussions to be exhilarating.  It did not take long for the Lively Church concepts to burrow deep into my thinking.  To this day I can remember these campus conversations concerning wealth, our authority over sickness, the power of the spoken word, our rights and privileges as God’s children and the principals of faith.  Every chance we fellow Lively Church goers had, we buckled down to our theological discussions.  Being the novice that I was, I was content, at first, to listen, taking in and soaking up the new information whenever I could. They never argued but they sure did laugh a lot.  Eventually it dawned on me that the laughter was due to their giddy astonishment about how much Christians could and should have.  Slowly but surely I did involve myself in the conversations.  It all began to make sense to me and it seemed to fit into what I had read so far in the Bible.  

Looking back I can say with all assurance that a very few good things came from my time with these believers.   Among the few things that was good was that I started praying much more by myself and with other believers. An upperclassman named “Michelle” had befriended me. She and I hung out together regularly.  She taught me the “Way”.   We alternately took turns meeting each morning at six in our dorm rooms to pray for an hour.

 Praying was the end of her good influence on me, however. One particular day stands out in my memory.  Michelle and I were on an errand to water some plants at a friend’s house that was out of town.   One of the plants was dying. Rather loudly, Michelle proclaimed to the plant "live in Jesus’ Name!” After I got over my initial fright I joined in her excitement over the authority we thought sure was ours for the taking.  We just knew that the plant would live. We talked all the way home about the power we have in our tongue over life and death. Both of us questioned why we didn’t see more Christians speaking in such a manner to reflect this truth. We concluded that we were enlightened but other believers were not. I think we both considered, from that moment on, that it was our primary objective to convert as many people as we could to this form of Christianity.  We never knew if the plant lived or died. 

I submerged myself in the new found role of the illuminated believer. I walked around campus all smiles unafraid to voice my love and praise for Jesus. I truly was in love with Jesus. Why didn’t other believers exclaim their love for Him as boisterously as I did?  I boldly voiced what I confidently held as truth at the IVCF meetings, which I still visited on occasion. One can only imagine the response I received there.  And it was these responses which caused me to completely stop attending these meetings. I had no intent to hurt, offend, or anger my other Christian friends.  I was moving forward in my faith in the best way I knew how.  In the long run it mattered little what others thought of me or what I vocalized; I was set on my fresh course in life. No one could discourage me.

Every week the college church group met for home prayer meetings at different ladies homes. The meetings were attended by just us college kids and a few ladies. I wasn’t the only one who thought that these meetings were intoxicating.  My church friends and I went regularly. I looked forward to these so much that I would daydream about what might happen.  First, we would spend some time in worship. The emotion I felt during worship was intense. Then we would pray.  The praying didn’t seem to last very long. It usually ended abruptly because one of the matronly ladies had a prophetic word or a vision she wanted to share. The supernatural essence of these meetings greatly appealed to me.  I never questioned what happened there. We rarely read the Bible at these meetings and I never protested that either.  I read the Bible at home and it was referred to in church. That was enough for me. I inherently trusted these people.  I had no reason not to.  They appeared to care about me.  Not knowing any better I received with a whole heart. 

 I faithfully attended Lively Church and the prayer meetings for six months.  In these six months I adopted beliefs that would affect my life profoundly for years to come.  If anyone had asked me to write a paper on what I believed at the end of those six months, I doubt I could have filled half of a page.  I had strong ideas and I could spit out jargon like nobodies business but I had no idea what was deeply embedded in these beliefs.    I could quote scriptures that had been quoted to me.  I could repeat key teachings of the men, Kenneth Copeland, Charles Capps and Kenneth Hagin; not grasping the essence of the teaching itself.  I had never heard of the Word of Faith movement but I was accepting its most prominent doctrines.   I was just like the fish who found what it thought to be a real juicy meal.  Like the unaware fish, I listened; I swallowed, hook, line and sinker.

Going Deeper: chapter 2

 After my  salvation I consistently went to Catholic Youth meetings and continued to go to church with my family.  I started paying closer attention to the priest during his homilies and became very interested in the liturgy.  It appeared to me that my spiritual needs were sufficiently met for the time being.    I continued my faithful attendance to the Catholic Church.   I even spent large portions of my days at a local convent praying and seeking God’s will for my life.  I felt welcome at St. Francis of Asisi convent.  Though it was mainly a home for elderly nuns, many of which did not speak English, it was staffed by a handful of younger nuns who opened their arms to me.  It was close to my home, peaceful and rather beautiful.   The life of a nun was attractive to me for numerous reasons.  Mostly, it was a life in pursuit of God without distraction  that I found incredibly appealing.   The nuns I had met were kind, generous and some of them were rather entertaining, especially the older animated ones who yelled in German at the football games on TV.  Many of them played board games, cards, bingo and few even played with pennies!   It was here that I would find a secluded place outdoors to pray and read the Bible.  God felt so close to me here. 

If I wasn’t at the convent I was at home spending at least an hour everyday reading the Bible and it seemed the more I read the hungrier I became.  I had stopped all of the behaviors on weekends that were detrimental to me, namely, drinking and getting drunk.   I maintained the same friends but our relationships changed.  

In my senior year, many of my extracurricular endeavors gravitated towards helping others.  I joined a peer counseling club.  I also joined the American Lung Association Student Program called "Student to Student"; telling of the dangers of smoking while carrying around a jarred and scarred lung from some poor soul.   These school time occupations fulfilled the God given yearnings I felt as new believer for a time. 

In 1985 I graduated from high school and immediately enrolled into a small 4 year college in my home town. As a freshman in college, I developed wonderful Christian friends through Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship (IVCF).  For the first time since being born-again I had Christian role models.  I watched them with intensity; so much so that I may have scared off one or two of them.  I thoroughly enjoyed the IVCF Bible studies. The atmosphere was very laid back and unassuming.  The single guitar worship was amazing.  I fully enjoyed and appreciated these people.  They were sincere and helpful.   The depth of faith that I saw in them appeared genuine and deep.  I began to perceive a difference between the nuns and my new friends. The nuns showed me love and kindness but my relationship with them was not the same as with my college friends. This discrepancy started out almost unnoticeable but it grew to a point where it could no longer be ignored.   It was about this time, also, that a certain "yearning" sparked in my heart.  I found that I desperately desired something more.  What exactly that was, I didn’t know.   And because of this combination of events in my heart my visits to the convent ebbed away.  

I searched with fervent determination for this unknown "more".  I started doing a Bible Study with an IVCF believing friend who was a college Senior at the time. He, too, shared my curiosity for “more” of God.   He and I together searched the scriptures but neither of us had any clue as to what it was that we were looking for. One day at a T.E.C reunion, a nun gathered a few of us girls together.  She nervously glanced back and forth before quickly ushering us to the bathroom.  There, in hushed tones, she told us about a rumor.  We bent over with hands together, awaiting the juicy gossip.   She told us that she knew about nuns and priests that spoke in another language called "tongues".  This language, she explained, was apparently not earthly but rather some kind of direct link to the Father in Heaven.  That was it.  That was all she knew.  I was ecstatic because I knew that this information brought me one step closer to finding the answer.   

I went home and flipped my Bible open.  It fell open to the book of Acts.  I read and quickly saw in Chapter 2 verse 4 what that nun had been talking about...there it was!   I immediately started praying and asking God for this.  Nothing happened.  I begged God for it.  Nothing.  Some time later, a certain missionary from the Philippines had been invited to speak to the Inter Varsity Group.  I was there. 

He spoke one sentence that I remember, "I have got something to give you called the Baptism of the Holy Spirit".  He said many other things.  As a matter of fact, he said far too many things for my liking.  All I heard was that one statement and I was ready.  When he finally gave the call to stand up and receive I jumped up.   I was the fourth person he prayed for.  He laid his hands on me and prayed.  At that same moment that he laid his hands on me I felt the power of God go into me through my stomach.  It felt like I had been punched but it didn't hurt.  And immediately I received the gift of tongues. I stood, arms raised, and prayed quietly.   I don't know how long I stood there but someone came and told me that it was over. Although he prayed for everyone, I could tell by the countenance of my IVCF friends that they were not impressed.  Unfortunately, it was this meeting that put a permanent wedge between me and my IVCF fellows.  I didn't understand but they knew what had happened to me and they did not agree with it.  Despite my best efforts to close the gap, it only served to make matters worse.   Not knowing what I know now, most of them came from a background of Christianity that does not embrace the gifts of the Spirit or the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.  Perhaps if they had continued to nurture me despite their disagreements, things would have turned out different for me.   Though it matters nothing because God always has another plan.

Purchased for a price or with a price?: chapter 1

The lady speaking had me so fired up and excited.  “There are twenty people out there who God is speaking to right now!  Twenty people who God is telling to give $40 to my ministry!  If you are one of those people, come up here right now and God has got a word for you....  Okay.  I have ten people up here.  There are ten more.  Come on up here with your $40 and I will prophesy over you!”

God could speak to me through her?  Wow.  I had to get some of this.  I whipped out my checkbook and purchased my prophecy with the money my mom and dad had deposited for my college books and other necessities.  Trying to ignore the slight twinge of guilt that this didn’t exactly qualify as a “necessity” and wanting to hear what awesome thing God was going to say to me, I ran up there with check in hand.  My friends weakly grabbed hold of my sleeve as they gently tried to stop me. I was a little baffled why they would want to hinder me.  It made no difference.  I dashed up there as fast as my little feet would carry me.  The tall blond “prophetess” looked at me a little uncertainly as she took my check and steered me near the end of the line.   I was one of the last to answer the call so it wasn’t long after this that she started to prophesy over the individuals and one couple.  The couple was apparently having financial trouble but deliverance was surely on the way, she assured them.  That was about the only prophecy I remember except my own, of course.  Coming to me, still looking unsure, she gently placed her hands on my head, “you are going to be a light in a dark place”.  This said, she moved on to the next individual.  After a quick ponder, I ran off the stage.  “Hmm” was my first thought.  I was on my way to an evangelism project in Aspen, Colorado that coming summer.  I certainly would be a light in a dark place.  I supposed that must have been what she was talking about.  I decided that I would take it and be blessed.

I was mostly untaught concerning Christianity.  Raised in the Catholic Church, I had a strong God awareness but little knowledge concerning the Bible.  I received Jesus as my Lord and Savior at a Catholic retreat called T.E.C, Teens Encounter Christ, in 1983.  In reality, though, I give little credit to Catholicism for my conversion.  Many things contributed to my salvation. In ninth grade I read Joni Eareckson Tada’s first autobiography, before she became a Tada.  This book stirred me and lent to a deep curiosity though there was no way I could express it in any meaningful way.  A married couple, who were not Catholic, visited the Catholic youth group I attended.  Their witness gripped my conscience substantially.   I had the very strong visual image of myself in a prison while they spoke though they implied nothing of the sort.  I vividly remember picturing them as standing outside the jail cell and myself as being inside.  I left that night quite perplexed and honestly feeling rather hopeless that there would be no way I could achieve their position of freedom.  A year or so later during my junior year, I shared Free Hour and Physics with a wonderful friend who faithfully shared the gospel with me on many occasions.     Though most of the time I had no idea what she was talking about, she sowed some productive seed. Some time during my junior year I attended a Teens Encounter Christ (TEC) retreat that was supported by the Catholic Church. After a stout presentation of the gospel from a protestant speaker at this TEC retreat, I realized my desperate position in sin and my need… for something.   I asked Jesus to be my friend.  Since I was unable to express the correlation between my sin and Jesus, this was all I was capable of mustering up.   My sinful state was undeniable and I knew that in that moment I was “brought near” (Ephesians 2:13) by Jesus.  I knew I was different.  I felt clean and lighter.  Though I did not consciously struggle with guilt, I felt free from my guilt.  And there was the joy; the inexpressible joy that became a constant companion from that moment on.  Some months later I realized fully what my decision signified in my life.  I had broken God's law thus I knew I was guilty.  Not only was I guilty but I understood my inability to correct my mistakes.    The Bible says that without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sin (Hebrews 9:22).  Thus I knew that what I had done was to receive that gift of salvation that Jesus had purchased with His precious blood. 

Swallowing a hook: Preface

 I have fished a little in my life.  Usually, when I go fishing with my husband we do the "catch and release" bit.  He doesn’t really enjoy the taste of the fish around here and he likes even less to clean and gut the fish. To him it is just as much to fun to catch them and then let them go back on their merry way.  Once in awhile, when we go on a family fishing trip, somebody in the family will catch a fish that has swallowed the hook.  It’s amazing how deep the hook can go inside that fish’s body.   If it's really deep, Darren will just detach the hook from the line and let the fish swim away, hook and all.  Pulling out a hook that deep would likely kill a fish. I remember one time we did try to pull out a very deep hook.  The hook pulled away at the fishes organs and made a real mess inside the fish.   That fish did die as the internal damage was too heavy. It is a little troubling when you’re talking about a fish but when speaking figuratively about a person, it is deeply troubling.   And I am the person I am talking about.  When I swallowed that hook of false teaching, I swallowed it deep.  God knew that the hook had to come out.  He also knew that it was going to be a long arduous process of pulling it out.  I had no idea. This is my story.