Call to action

This weekend was a weekend of healing for so many...the countenance of many of the women that I know has literally changed. And for that, I thank God. It is amazing to watch Him move.

This weekend was also a call to action. Today Pastor Jay preached. He taught on growth...how it is important to mature as individuals, but also as a body. One of his illustrations hit me. Babies are really cute. But, if they don't develop, mature, grow, at a certain point, this indicates that there is a problem...there is a need for medical attention.

There is no medical insurance for stunted spiritual growth. But there is a hospital in which this can be cured. It is called the church, being involved in a community of believers who are growing through their own brokenness, who are experiencing healing spiritually, emotionally, physically. Spiritual growth is not reactive. It is proactive. The Bible exhorts believers to work out their salvation with fear and trembling.

For me, this weekend was a growth weekend. I actually let my guard down in the group of women. I laughed (so much so that the people in the room next door banged on the wall to shut us up.) I cried so hard that my head felt like it was hit with a bat. I got angry. I was real.

I've been hiding behind something...the identity that I've carried with me from my previous church. I didn't realize was the weight of the identity that I was portraying. I was wearing chain mail. This weekend, the chain mail was removed and melted down without me even realizing what was occuring.

This morning as I was getting dressed for church, I found myself much less self-conscious of what I wore. In church, I found myself surrounded by women. And I wasn't freaking out. I was in my element.

Back to the call to action. I have something to say, to add, to contribute. To women, to men, to the church, to the unchurched. I've known this since I was seven years old, preaching to my stuffed animals. Perhaps I've been surpressing this knowledge; perhaps hiding from the message that I have in my spirit. Now that the chain mail has been removed, I need to get the word out.

When the Potter decides that it is time, the word will go forth.

Penny for your thoughts

You know that you are an avid blogger when people call to make sure that you are ok after a day of silence :-)

I've been trying to process things that are being thrown at me right now. I'm scared to prayer right now. I'd been taught that prophesy should be confirmation, not information. Over the years, I've had several people speak things prophetically into my life that I dismissed because they were things that I had not yet discovered about myself. Lately, however, those words have brought back to the forefront of my memory. And God has been expanding on them.

I've always had a dream of traveling the world, preaching the gospel on every continent. What I never thought of, until recently, was what would fill the time between trips. Obviously, it won't be a typical 9-5 job. I am invested in what is going on in NJ. I love where I am and what I'm doing. I'm learning the practical, day to day stuff that they don't teach you in seminary, or in any classroom.

The amazing thing for me is that with every church I've attended, I've learned different facets of ministry. At one church, I learned the ministering part--how to pray for people, how to teach. At another church, I was taught the administrative stuff...how to run the office, how to be the front person, the armor bearer, how to play the political game of church life, how to prepare for and execute mission trips. Now I'm learning the establishment part of church--how to get out in the community and make a difference.

It has been my desire for a long time to go to different places and plant churches. There have been people who I allowed to speak into my life who tried to kill that desire, for whatever reason. But now, that desire is coming forth again.

I looked at the list of people whose blogs I read regularly. With few exceptions, I am drawn to the church planters, to innovators. Even in my professional life, the jobs in which I have excelled have been those in which I was constantly mobile, creating something out of nothing. So, I suppose that I must move from the place of denial to a place of freedom to be me.

There aren't exactly a multitude of examples for me to follow, being a woman. One of my friends is a Methodist pastor. She's told me that many of the male pastors in town don't speak to her. I understand the thoughts behind a woman as a lead pastor. Being a woman, I don't know that I would attend a church that has a woman as the lead pastor. As a matter of fact, I won't work for a woman because of my experiences with many different female bosses.

So, I find myself in a precarious position right now. And the reason I was silent yesterday is because this is a subject through which I have been wrestling and will continue to wrestle.

A penny for your thoughts...

On prayer

Last night, I learned a valuable lesson...again.

As long as I can remember, I've enjoyed prayer. I love to win; I love going to battle. I relish having the opportunity to link arms with the Creator of the Universe to do His work here on earth.

But then bad teaching happened. And prayer turned into a club. A club into which you had to be invited; a club that required a class involving a book that, to this day, makes me feel all queasy (in a bad way, NOT a good way.)

Since the bad teaching, I've had some trouble in the prayer department. I've gone from storming the gates of Heaven for an answer to blandly asking God to do whatever. "You know, God, whatever Your will is will be fine for me," she said in a apathetic tone, afraid that her prayers were falling on deaf ears.

But then last night happened. I've been asking God for something, and last night He wanted specifics. It's not unheard of that God would want to know more details. There were so many instances in the Bible where people would come up to Jesus, and He would ask, "Well, what do you want? What can I do for you?" Jesus asked the lame man at the gate, "What do you want?" The man said he wanted to walk. So Jesus told him to walk. How about the woman with the issue of blood? She reached for the hem of Jesus' garment. He felt her touch the hem of His garment, and He told her that her faith had made her well. I could go on and on. The point is, Jesus wants us to be specific. Perhaps so that we can see the answer to our prayer, we can recognize it.

However, if I pray specifically without recognizing the sovereignty of God, without acknowledging that His timing and His will are perfect, I am praying a misguided prayer. I have the potential to become angry and jaded.

Prayer is conversation with God. God created us for relationship with Himself. Since He's not physically walking around my house with me, I have to pray to be in contact with Him.

So, I'm relearning what prayer is and what prayer is not. I have to learn the time for specifics and the time for praying for God to do as He wants in a situation. And that, my friends, is why I love prayer. It is not cut and dry. But it is.

Headed to Beantown for a few

Well, after nearly six months of trying, I am finally headed back to Boston for a few days. When I return, I'll have my clothes, my shoes, my Tom Brady calendar, my favorite Bible. I can't wait.

I leave on Thursday afternoon and will return on Saturday afternoon. I'm fairly certain that 72 hours will be my maximum allowable exposure to Aunt Michelle and mom. I cannot wait to walk the streets that I love so dearly, smell the smells and take in the sights.

I wonder what it will be like to return to the streets with which I was so intimate for such a brief, intense period of my life. I'm sure that returning and leaving after so abbreviated an encounter will be bittersweet.

On a completely different note.

God is working out something in me that I have been...umm...I don't know whether the appropriate word is avoiding or ignoring. But alas, it has been brought to the forefront of my mind, and I'm going to be writing some things out.

Be afraid. Very afraid.

Real life, real issues

Tonight kicks off our women's ministry at The Sanctuary. We're getting together for dessert, recipe swapping and a short devotional. Women's ministry freaks me out.

In my previous experience, women's ministry began as a light-hearted tea with some deep morsels from God. It morphed into a militant good ol' gals club. I wasn't one of the cool kids; I wasn't accessorised enough and I didn't kiss enough butt. I wasn't invited into the club.

I'm reticent to engage a group of women. I don't know what it is about us, but there is this constant underlying tension for control. It all began in the third chapter of Genesis when the serpent lured Eve into splitting hairs about what God said, or more accurately questioning the validity of what God said. I know Satan was laughing when Eve died. I wonder if she felt a bitterness in her spirit as she took her last breath.

Genesis 3:6-7 says, "When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves."

As women, when we gain wisdom and knowledge, we want to disseminate the knowledge. We are nurturers, no matter what current psychology wants to tell you. We want to teach our kids to walk; we want to help our loved ones find healing; we want to teach the men in our lives to lift the toilet seat up before use of the toilet and put it down after use. Sometimes our wisdom is helpful and causes harmony and growth in the home. At other times, it causes pain and sometimes death.

I know that women have a voice. We have something valid to say, to add to the conversation. In the Bible, there are examples of amazing women--Rahab, Ruth, Deborah, Esther, Mary. These women knew under Whose authority they operated. Something in them innately bowed its knee to the Lordship of Jehovah, of Jesus Christ. But, there are examples of equally bad women. Jezebal is the most glaring example. She was given free reign--even over what gods to worship--and caused such fear in Elijah that he asked God to kill him.

Galatians 3:38 says, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Obviously, God has given women a voice. I believe this voice has to be in the correct context and submitted to authority. Our generation needs a woman to stand up and be our voice, to be an example of what that life looks like. We need a role model. I look around at women in power, and I see noone that I want to emulate. Hilary Rodham Clinton and Nancy Pelosi seek to emacsulate men and create a female dominated society in which it is acceptable to kill the unborn because "it is our right." They want men to do their bidding. There are women in ministy whom I admire, but honestly none to whom I can relate.

I want a Proverbs 31 woman to follow--a woman who balances family life, the marketplace and ministry. I want to be a Proverbs 31 woman. Lately I've been wrestling with my desires. As long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a wife and a mother. Thanksgiving solidified these desires in me. I thoroughly enjoyed everything involved in preparing the house and the meal. But, as long as I can remember, I've also wanted to be a pastor. Yesterday cemented that is my spirit. I love telling groups of people what God is doing, and how God can, is and will work through their lives--though I admit I rambled because I was unprepared.

How can I reconcile two seemingly opposing desires? How can I live a balanced life, being a helpmate to my husband, mother to my children and a pastor? I'm willing to try. I'm willing to be a trailblazer. I'm willing to join in the women's ministry at The Sanctuary.

But know...I'm doing it afraid.

You're like Dr. Phil or something

This weekend I hosted a parade of marathon phone calls and conversations. It all began with an innocent phone call about 5PM on Friday and didn't end until about 11PM last night. The calls ranged from the hilarious to the arduous. They all had one common thread. A friend or relative had a need to get from one place to the next, geographically or emotionally, and I was elected tour guide.

You see, I found myself utterly and completely unqualified in every circumstance to be speaking, even when telling a friend whether to go straight, right or left on a road I've travelled countless times. Sometimes, in the dark, over the phone, the world is muddy. Let's be honest. In the light of the noon sun, at times, the world is incomprehensible.

On Friday night, I bended my knee to what God has been encouraging since I was a young child. I have only spoken the two words to two people. It fits, but it scares me. In my mind, I've always had one career path, one idea of where God was leading me. But, when I wrote down the words "pastoral counseling" it seems that a dam in my life broke wide open.

Three hours logged into a call with my cousin whose father is cheating on her mother, trying to help her make sense of the situation, what role she can play for her little sister, how she can support her mother, who is choosing to stay in the situation with the man who has been my nemesis since he helped to move my aunt out of our house when I was six.

Between face time and phone time, I lost track of how many hours I spent convincing someone to talk to her sister. One is agressive; one is passive-agressive. Engage the two in a conversation that includes more than a how-d0-you-do, one leaves enraged, the other a massive bleeding wound. One leaves feeling victorious but unfulfilled, the other hidden tightly away in a shell that she has developed for these situations. How is it that I find myself having to call out a bully? Can a bully be reformed when she has created the caustic exterior to protect her from parents who are deceased who never protected her in the first place?

Another friend is in a transitional phase with work. She was really hurt by a church, though she will only admit fear. Today she leaves for an interview in Green Bay. She's already found a church and a mall, so she's pretty excited. Frankly, I'm excited for her because she needs to get away from this area, figure out what she wants her life to look like and go for it. I detest being the person to encourage my friends to go so far, but I want them to be healthy and successful so desperately that I'll back any of God's plans for their lives, even to my own detriment.

Last night, after listening to bits and pieces of this marathon, my sister said to me, "You're like Dr. Phil or something. When my friends come to me with their problems, I say to them, 'Dude, that sucks.' Do you really care? Do you really want to help?" That left me thinking for a long time.

I do care. I truly want to leave people better. Yet, I am in a precarious situation. I know that I have no qualifications. I have a long resume of life experience. The only thing that I have to offer is what I know of the heart of the Father and a limited knowledge of the scriptures. All I can do is lead them to what Jesus says, back to the basics of Christianity. I lead them to the foot of the cross.

So, yeah. I'm like Dr. Phil. Only difference is that I attempt to lead people to a dialogue with Jesus Christ, and not to the Dr. Phil House of Horrors or to the local bookstore to purchase a self-help book that costs half a day's salary and that will ultimately lead them back to my feet.

I want my friends and family to face the lion in the eye and KILL IT.

October

I am suffering from acute ADD today, this week. I don't know whether it is the allergies/cold, or the weather, or just life in general. Something about this week is not allowing me to concentrate. OK, I'll stop blameshifting the responsibility. However, I do think that a little backstory wouldn't hurt here.

Back in the mid-nineties, my friends and I had this obsession with ouija boards and tarot cards and psychics. I knew that it was not something in which I should have been dabbling, but I tried anyway. I had a psychic give me completely a wrong reading. When I called her on it, she was not a little unhappy with me. Another time, my friends and I were playing with a ouija board and the board told my friends that it would not talk to me because God was too close to me. No lie. I got mad because, at the time, I just wanted to hear something and I even got denied by a stupid ouija board.

It was in October that I decided to stop playing around with my life and give it up for God. The second time. Not the time for good. Anyway. We have a friend who was stayed with us for a night because he had no place to sleep. He stayed with us on Mischief Night 1996 if I recall properly. He is a really cool guy--a real free spirit, a gift of worship, all over a neat fellow. I let him have my room and I spent the night on the couch. He woke up to take his kids to school because someone had slashed the tires of the woman who was caring for his kids for the night. I was in a miserable mood when he left, so as soon as our front door closed, I was asleep in my bed. A little while later, I awoke to the smell of bacon and waffles, and the sound of the guitar playing in my living room. I was starving, so I got up. I was barely in the living room when the conviction of the Lord came upon me and I knew that it was time to stop playing around with the occult and walk forward into what God had for me. I walked full on for God, looking to please pastors and friends and man in general for two years. I attended two churches in that time, and saw God do some really amazing things--heal cancer, straighten backs, even uneven legs. One day I got my feelings hurt and made up some lame excuse as to why I couldn't go to church anymore.

I walked away from everything about God for six months, beginning in October of 1998. It was probably the darkest period of my life, because I knew that God had something amazing for me, that He'd called me into ministry, to do amazing things for Him. I wrestled with wanting the things of the world more: men, money, acclaim, respect. I went on a six month drinking binge. I still cannot believe that I was so irresponsible, but I thank God for that time because I've seen Him use it over and over again. My binge ended on February 6, 1999 when I nearly crashed into a median on Rt. 295 going way too fast on a rainy, puddly day. I returned to church on February 7, 1999 and the rest, as they say, is history.

October is traditionally a difficult month spiritually, physically, emotionally for me. I find myself, like Paul, wanting to do the things that I don't want to do and not doing the things that I want to do. I find myself questioning God, the things of God. I find myself wondering what the heck I am doing.

This year God is redeeming October. I've seen God move in amazing ways. I've seen more favor of God this October than ever. I've fallen in love with my church, with my friends, with my God. Though I admit to joking incessantly about going to business school rather than to seminary, I've never been so sure of anything in my life. It is my mission, my desire, to allow God to redeem a lot more than October. I want to see God redeem 6 billion people.

Chasing lions

Tonight I did something uncharacteristic. I watched the news. I really detest watching the news because it breaks my heart. As I was sitting, nursing my cold and feeling cold and hot at the same time, I watched my heart melt and break at the same time.

Tonight's feature story was about a yet-unnamed kid who attended Deptford High School (merely a few miles from my house) who led police on a high speed chase, stopped on the Walt Whitman Bridge and jumped. I read a blog written by a girl that I know who sounds so sad, so desparate, so dejected that I began to cry. This is a talented girl. What attracted me to her the first time that we met is that she seemed so sure of her quirky, out of the box self. She was full of life, happy and bringing all kinds of people to the clubhouse for youth. Now she lives in a world where she is continually told what she is not, what she cannot do and she cannot see the forest for the trees. Then I saw a story about a group in Alexandria, VA who are helping disadvantaged kids by teaching them how to build boats and in the process, they are paying the kids, helping them to get their GED's and helping them to get their carpenter licenses. They are giving them fish AND teaching them to fish.

This leads to an ongoing frustration that I have. There is a generation of kids who are falling through the cracks, walking through the cracks, being pushed through the cracks. These kids have mentors--parents, coaches, teachers, pastors, family, friends who are watching them walk away from so many things and not saying a word. Or, worse off, they have a group of mentors who are pushing them into lives that are not their God-given lives to live. I admit, that I have a bit of survivor's guilt in this situation. I was in a situation where I could have stayed. If God had not pushed me out, I would have stayed forever. I could have stayed and helped to walk people through this. I could have stayed and remained silent, trying so hard to be something that I am not. I could have stayed and spoken up for those in the church who do not have voices. But I made the choice to walk. Walking was the best thing that I have done in my life thus far. Walking away led me to a wonderful place that I would not trade for all of the tea in China. I would have given my right arm to be here five years ago. But...it was not time. Now that I am here, I have a place to invite the hurting people in my life. There is a place in which I actually trust the hearts of my friend and family.

I know that it seems that I am continually walking around the same issue. I fear that I will continue to walk around this issue as long as I live. It's not something that I ever want to be too far removed from. I always want to remember from where I've come. I'm glad that I've not been healed without scars, because I always want to know that at one time I hurt, and that there are people hurting all over the world.

Here is my frustration. I am not going to list problems. I will list the solutions as well. The church, specifically in America, needs to rise up and be what God has created it to be. God has created the church to be a place where healing occurs; where dreams are conceived and birthed; where people enter one way and exit another way; where people are encouraged to be who God has created them to be; where people can discover the love the Jesus has for them. Church is not about numbers. Church is about people. Church is about ushering people into a saving relationship with Jesus Christ the Messiah. Why then is the church so busy building carbon copies of itself? I love my pastor to death, but I don't want to be him. I don't want his life. His life is the life that God has designed for him, not for me. He and his wife love each other very much; they have three amazing kids. But...I don't want that life. I want the life that God designed for me...the one He speaks of in Jeremiah 29:11. The awesome thing about my pastor is that he doesn't want me to have his life. He wants me to live out my life the way that God has designed it to be. I know that I've said this before, and you'll hear me say it again and again. The Sanctuary is the way that I always thought church could be but never knew it would be. I have a pastor who has a pastor's heart. Shocking, I know. But he really just wants all of us to grow so that we can all do this thing called life together. I don't have to fit in a mould. I don't know if a mould exists.

So, what am I doing to be a part of the solution of the crisis that is the church in America? For starters, Wednesday I'm participating in a Halloween parade to help a friend launch her salon. On Saturday, I'm packing a bunch of cookies into bags. On Sunday, I'm giving cookies to a bunch of people who want for nothing but need Something, Someone desparately. I'm going to go to seminary to align my opinions with the Word of God. I'm going to surround myself with people, via my church, sermons, teaching tapes who have big ideas, who are chasing lions and not hiding from them, so that I can become the mighty woman of God that I have been called to be. And most of all, I'm going to love people, even those who persecute me, especially those who persecute me.

Anyone care to join in the fight?

Did that really happen?

Yesterday I spent the day completely nervous, wondering if, once again, my heart would be crushed into a thousand little piece and my vision scoffed. I walked out of my pastors' house wanting to pinch myself to make sure that I hadn't been dreaming. I can't imagine life not where I am at the moment. I can't imagine having a pastor who...

My mom and I were debriefing about my meeting. She asked me how my meeting went. I began by telling her how afraid I was...so much so that I cleaned the house from top to bottom and didn't eat. Two miracles...haha...mental note to self...must stop self depricating humor. We discussed my track record with pastors...one could not remember my name to save his life; one told me that if I wanted to go into ministry that I should become a nurse. One told me that I should be a teacher, a lawyer. I understand now why he wanted me to become a lawyer, but that is a whole other story. *snickers* So, a few weeks ago I completely bombarded my pastor with the news that I wanted to go to seminary, that I wanted to go to Gordon Conwell, that I was leaving in a few months. I was expecting rejection, so I dropped the bomb, told him to have a good week and literally RAN out of church. Joshua would have been proud.

Back to last night. I went to John and Beth's house, and had coffee with them. We (the THREE of us, 'cause she's allowed to be a part of this stuff) talked about vision, passions, likes, dislikes. We talked about the past, the present, the future. Long-term and short-term ideas. How to reach out to our community. Not how to draw people to a church location, but how to reach the community with absolutely no strings attached. We discussed some of the greatest church planters of our time. We talked about church explosion and the vision of the church. I told them that I am dying to get my hands dirty...I seriously cannot stand sitting on the sidelines any longer. So, after our discussion, I got offered something. I am going to oversee our outreach to our community. They asked me what title I wanted. I laughed and told them that I really don't need a title. Pastor John kind of laughed and said of course you need a title. So, I am now a ministry liasion. How 007! I'm getting cards and everything.

There is an element of irony here. When I was at my last church, I wanted, asked, almost begged them to see me, to give me an identity, a marker to let me know what I was, what my role was. I nearly got on my knees and grovelled for validation. Over the past year, any desire for title has been more than killed. It has been cremated. Beth looked at me and said, "You know, there is no room for ego in ministry. But I don't think that we have to worry about that with you." I smiled and nodded. How can I have too much ego? I live at home with my parents; I graduated from college but cannot find a job; I'm 31 and I drive my mom's minivan; I've had my name dragged through the mud among friend and foe alike. I've been a little humbled over the past year or two. I don't wear my process like a badge, but it is something that has been seared into the fabric of my being.

Be on the lookout, Voorhees. Deneen, Ministry Liasion is coming to a business near you to get to know you, to love you, to bring you cool stuff, like pens. You don't have to do anything in return. A smile would be nice, but I won't even ask that of you.

Oh yeah...I also think that I've perhaps found a piece of my voice in the greater conversation that is occuring.

The conversation

I've actually convinced someone to blog. Yay! Another convert...my plan is working...haha...

Yesterday I was talking to a friend, and I was inadvertently encouraged to start writing. There are a bunch of books hidden deep within me, and it's time to start getting some of that stuff to the surface. Today I started brainstorming. I'm rather excited about some of the topics. I am by no means an expert on anything, but I know that I have something to add to the conversation. I am going to use this "free" time or "down" time to start doing something that could have a very positive long term effect not only in my life but in the life of my family as well. I don't exactly know where I will be able to go to get the peace and quiet that I will need once I actually begin the composition of the book(s) but I'm sure that there is Someone who will help me with that when the time comes.

Oh yes. Church yesterday was amazing. I am stunned at the teaching that we are receiving. I am stunned at how quickly we are growing. Yet I find myself feeling a bit perturbed that we're not growing more quickly. There are some things in the works, but I've not yet found that "thing" into which I can dig my heels and stick it out for the long haul. I thought it was the young adult ministry, but I'm not so sure. I'm certain that it is neither children's nor youth. So, all I've learned is that it is not a specialized ministry--to a particular age group. Sometime knowing what is not is just as much an answer as knowing what is. That is what I'm going to tell myself for the moment, at any rate.

I'm gleaning a lot of information from the podcasts of National Community Church and from Mosaic. I always felt previously that I was cheating on my church by listening to pastors other than those in my church and from those in "the network" and from those associated with Hillsong. Recently I've found the freedom that lay in the exchange of ideas. I've taken a lot from the conversation, and soon I too will be adding to the conversation.

Tomorrow's task will perhaps be to discover what I mean by "the conversation" because I've typed it several times and I still have no idea what it is or who is actually conversing. But right now I'm tired and I'm rambling. I'm good at that.