Darren felt a certain urgency to move forward in this new direction. Although we served in all the areas we could; cleaning the church, working in the nursery, children’s ministry, and youth, it was made very clear to us that this was as far as we could go in the ministry which is fine if these are the areas that God has called one to. But it was not for us. Since Darren knew that the Lord had called him on, we had to move on. We spoke to the pastor of the church we were leaving and let him know that we bore no hard feelings but that it was just time for us to move on. He wasn't happy but what pastor ever is when he loses members.
We moved to a church which checked out doctrinally. It was also a place where Darren felt there was room for him to pursue his ministry calling. We served here faithfully cleaning toilets, scrubbing and vacuuming floors, teaching children, working in the nursery and doing whatever else needed to be done. In time, Darren was placed as an elder and soon after as an assistant pastor. He was blessed by being given the opportunity to teach and develop a gift that truly was of God. Darren definitely had the call of pastor on his life. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to him. It was evident to all around him including our new pastor.
Astoundingly enough, to make a very long story short, Word of Faith doctrines made their way to forefront of the teaching. But not only these doctrines made their way into our home church but also other beliefs which Darren deemed to be heretical. The two equally dangerous systems caused us great concern. To make matters even worse a “Faith School” was opened on Wednesday night’s teaching curriculum that clearly stating Word of Faith foundations. Things really began heating up at church. Just as fast as these doctrines were making their way to the forefront, Darren too became bolder about speaking out against them.
Meanwhile, I found out that I was pregnant again. Enter fear. Because I was hearing from so many angles now how fear is the vehicle for disaster, I tried hard not to fear for this pregnancy. This, in itself, is not necessarily a bad thing. The problem for me was all about motivation. I wasn’t controlling my fear out of any desire to please the Lord but rather out of superstition. I might as well have watched to make sure I didn’t walk under any ladders, or ran into a black cat. My beliefs were just a dangerous and deadly. Other thoughts flooded my thinking. Perhaps, fear is why I had lost the baby before. Downward and downward I spiraled in my thinking. In fact, no matter how hard I fought fear, fear became my master.
On February 13th, 2004 at my sixteenth week check up the ultrasound showed no heart activity. I went home on February 14th, after the surgery and lay in bed, with a broken heart . My family was so compassionate and loving towards me that day. First my husband walked into the bedroom with a card. I did laugh because I knew how hard it must have been for him to buy what he considered to be a waste of money. Don’t get me wrong, he lavishes me with gifts often just but rarely with something as "useless" as a card. But he knew what it would mean to me. My son walked in next with a flower. Next was my daughter with chocolate. It was touching and I wanted to sit in bed and just bawl for how wonderful they were and for how much physical, mental and emotional pain I was in. I shed a few tears and told them how grateful I was for their gifts. They all sat on the bed for awhile trying to cheer me up. After awhile, my husband could see that I was in need of rest and shooed them out. It was then I let the stopper go and cried till the well ran dry.
After this day, I stopped praying. I stopped reading the Word. I was angry and desperately bruised. I directed much of my anger at God this time. I was very careful not to do that with the last pregnancy loss. It wasn't that I blamed God. I knew He was there with me and I knew that He was all-powerful. God was just a convenient vent for my anger.
No one at the church ever mentioned anything about the pregnancy loss to us though everyone was aware. There were no words of comfort or love offered. No one brought us food or cards. There was nothing. The pastor and his wife came over one day to speak with us but nothing was mentioned about our loss and neither of them asked us how were doing with it. Though hurtful it was not surprising. If "faith" teachings are taken to their full extent, then any believer who does not walk in their God given authority over negative circumstances, they are to be pitied. It was good for me to see their reaction in this way. It was the catalyst I needed to completely reject false faith. I was hurt by their actions but I did not hold those actions against them as they made sense to me in light of their beliefs. I understood that they were powerless to treat me any other way.
Shortly after the pregnancy loss, three weeks to be exact, we were asked to step out of leadership at the church and were encouraged to leave. This we did, believing that the timing of this action was not an accident. Though it was never said, it was heavily implied that Darren was considered to be "at fault" spiritually for what had happened to the pregnancy. And of course, it was deemed that he was no longer in line with the vision of the church; which was true. Though painful for me in the way it was handled, it was no loss to us. As a matter of fact it was just what we had been praying for. Three months earlier we had started asking the Lord what he wanted us to do as we watched the churches doctrines go askew. The pastor (I'll call him Charlie for the sake of ease) and Darren had agreed months earlier that when Charlie was ready to leave to start another church, Darren would become the new pastor. Darren had all along made it clear that, “when this happens, I will be taking the church in my own God given direction”. Charlie agreed to this full heartedly. Due to this prior commitment that Darren had made, neither of us had peace about leaving despite the teaching. We continued to pray and ask God for clear direction. Being asked or rather encouraged to leave was the release we had been seeking for.
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