If you are interested enough to read this post, please go to the last one to be sure you have the foundation of my tenet. If you have read the last one, here goes:

Building on the "flat hands" theory, I believe that people would meet in a house. There are many advantages to this, the greatest being no overhead.

Generally the person or persons living in the house have arranged to pay the mortgage, themselves, without relying on outside help. Meeting in their home, which is already being paid for, frees one from needing to participate in covering new buildings, air conditioning, etc. I still believe in the offering concept, however, and feel that giving of our money should be just as expected as giving of our time. Everything belongs to the Lord. Without the burden of a building, however, a group is free to use the money for many different things. Supporting a favorite ministry, donating to Voice of the Martyrs or World Vision, helping a "church" member buy a needed car or pay their own rent or mortgage. Whatever is mutually decided on by the group.

Meeting in a house automatically limits the size of the group. This is a good thing. Keeping the group small allows for growth of the individual and participation that a larger group would not. When the group gets too large for the house, rather than making the classic mistake of building another structure and becoming 'just another....' they should split. No one likes to do this this part, but it is vital to keeping the groups healthy. All the people left in the first group can still go to the second group and vice versa, but the meetings should be held on different nights to facilitate this. The small groups would also make it easier to minister to people individually in their life, forming close friendships and allowing younger Christians to have "mentors" without the control that is so prevelent.

The meetings can be set up on the AA principle. I've never been involved with that but I know that if one goes to AA and needs a group every night of the week there is one somewhere in the area. As each group continues to split and there become more and more groups they can fill up all seven days of the week, morning, noon and night, leaving Sunday morning free for as long as possible so that interested parties who still want to attend "regular" church have that time free.
Eventually, even Sunday morning would be usurped as the number of groups grow in number. All groups would be connected and if one wanted to go to church once a week or seven days, they would have that choice. The leaders would commit themselves to traveling to different groups two to three days a week.

One HUGE disadvantage to the house church (remember that we did one once) is that you miss that feeling of being in a larger corporate fellowship particularly for the purposes of worship. This could be alleviated by having what one might call a "celebration service". Set up similarly to a "regular" church service it could be run much more loosely. Leaving lots of time for testimonies, giving two or three people opportunity to preach, rather than just one, even doing what was called at Youth Group, "popcorn preaching", giving anybody that wants one a little scrap of paper with a scripture on it and giving five minutes for extemporaneous thoughts, encouraging prophecy, prayer, opportunities for lots of worship, YIKES, I'm getting excited just THINKING about it! If you had seven groups hosting no more than 20 people each you already have 140 people for your celebration meeting, not including any stragglers. This service could be held indoors, in a large tent, or anywhere everyone wanted to be. It could be done once or twice a week or once a month depending on the group consensus.

Well, this is just an outline. There is room for a world of creativity and different ideas. This concept is something that has been working in me for a few years.

Time to go to bed. I appreciate all of you.

I was raised Episcopalian, so religious we genuflected before entering the pew and went to church on Christmas before we were allowed to open our presents. My four sisters and I wore dresses, hats, patent leather "maryjanes" and white gloves to church.

My husband was raised United Methodist. I believe his parents, while they never said so, were born again. They just didn't use that word.

At some point, after moving to the small town we live in, we starting attending a Baptist church. The Pastor had been raised Mennonite, but had gone to the Pentacostal college, also located in our town, even marrying the niece of the man who founded it. Later, we switched churches and started going to the large church associated with the school. After leaving there we went to a "Word of Faith" church associated with Rayma Bible Training Center. We also attended a Vineyard church for a period of time. That accounts for all my 52 years. All in all, 50 years in some kind of church.

I tell you all that to say that while my affliations are checkered, my attendance has not been. There have been no extended periods, until the past 18 months, that I have gone without attending church. I raised my first three children in church, religiously going every Sunday. Even when my husband didn't want to go. I didn't drive, and I wanted to go, so I would walk the mile it took to get there, with them in tow.

I don't believe in that church anymore. Not that I don't love the people that choose to stay, or think that they are not Christians. God forbid that anyone get that impression. That is for God to decide.

I don't even necessarily think they are wrong for staying as it is all that is available unless one is willing to take the risk, and a great one it can be, at least around here, to step outside of that box.

I am also am of the opinion that God uses the "model" or the paradigm that we are currently entrenched in. While I don't believe that we are experiencing His fullness, which I believe He wants us to, I do think that the church, such as it is, is serving God in the only way that they know.

It has become my conviction over the past five years that the paradigm we are using is an Old Testament model. I describe it this way. It is triangular. Take your hands and form a triangle. Put the Pastor at the top, the elders and deacons next down, the cell or home group leaders next, the Sunday School teachers, etc. next and all the rest of the peons, oops, I mean congregants at the bottom. (Sorry, I'll try to avoid sarcasm).

The way I see it, every church is set up that way. Large, small, in between. I even know house churches that still run with a Pastor at the top who does at least ninety percent of the preaching and controls all other aspects of the church. This is a triangle. It is based on David's and Solomon's concept of building a Temple for the Lord, and God's presence residing in the Holy of Holies. This was God's will at the time. God gave specific details about exactly how He wanted it built, decorated and used. Our churches, while not as ornate, are still based on the concept of the priest at the top, asst. priests, and other workers to maintain the Temple, the church, and the inner and outer courts philosophy. Generally, if the house church that is run on this model gets big enough, they too will eventually become a "regular" church, buy or rent a building, and become entrenched in the same rut as everyone else. It's what we know.

This may have been God's plan at the time but I do not believe it is now. Has not been since Christ died, rose, and left His Spirit inside of us, making us living tabernacles, a whole nation of royal priests.

It is my contention that the NT version is flat. Take those same hands and flatten them out in front of you. Move them back and forth, over and under, in and out. It is my opinion that that model is what God intended. Everyone submitting to and serving one another in love. When I truely think of it I almost cry. What a concept!

The original church was just a group of fired up, Holy Spirit filled believers meeting in homes, encouraging one another, sharing food, lodging and their possessions. Apostles arose from the group, specifically the disciples that had followed and been disciples of Christ Himself while He was on earth. According to my Bible School trained son, having seen Jesus and walked with Him was a prerequisite, at the time, for being considered an Apostle, which is why there was some disagreement, at one point, why Paul should not be considered an Apostle.

In any group of Christians, the cream will rise to the top, and the ones that have been walking close to the Lord for a long time will automatically be looked to for guidance. The key word there is guidance. Not control. Even Paul, in his letter's to the Corinthians may have rebuked them, sometimes harshly, but still left them room to figure some stuff out for themselves.

When Constantine got saved and insisted that Rome be considered a "Christian country", thus began our descent into the model of church that we presently follow. The buildings, the programs, the priests. The fact that in the time of Martin Luther people were actually required to pay "indulgences" is just shocking! When I chaperoned a field trip to Boston a couple of years ago we went to the Old North Church. The one that Paul Revere started and ended his ride from. I sat in one of the boxes that people paid fees to own for their families. People with out enough money to pay had to stand. This practice followed the Puritans from England. How this must have hurt the Lord!

Some of these practices have been abandoned but I do not believe that church leaders today are unaware of who tithes and who does not. I also believe that many tithers are treated differently than people who do not.

It is my opinion that the model itself forces Pastors to adopt a somewhat controlling attitude. I don't blame them, I blame the model. They are expected, by the very constituency of the church they run, to be "in charge".

People have always wanted a king, amen? God tried to warn the children of Israel about the dangers of a king but it must be hard wired into us.

As Christians we start out wanting someone to tell us what to do. As we mature in the Lord, unless we begin to feel stifled, we like that someone else is doing the lion's share of the work to coordinate everything and prepare a wonderful sermon that all we have to do is listen to.

Church is so EASY, isn't it? Unless we are in leadership all we have to do is come, enjoy a tasty, predigested morsel of the Word, and donate a bit of our "precious free time" to doing some menial task designed to make us feel useful. Even in the smaller churches I have been involved with, where I cleaned bathrooms, made floral arrangements (in my punch bowl!), led prayer meetings, and helped set up bands for the church cafe, I still did not exhaust my energy or potential. And this is on top of my abundant home life.

I don't believe that the life of the Christian is supposed to be EASY. His way is narrow, the way of suffering. Yes, there is joy, but the reason the peace passes understanding is because our circumstances, very often, ARE NOT peaceful. I don't believe we should LOOK for martyrdom, but I do think that suffering will find us if we truely follow His path. How can it not? His way is so divergent from the world.

I will leave you with that for now and my next post will be less about what is wrong with the church and more on what we can do to change it. I will warn you, however, that I do not believe that change will come from within. That is like trying to change Communism by placating it. It will come from outside what is called denominationalism but is really just an old model that has invaded every denomination.

I am going to digress from the tone of some of my other writing and share with you something that I wrote in late 2002 right after we closed on our lake cottage. I will tell you that I was struggling in some areas of my life, particularly in the area of relating to church, just so you will understand the tone, but the details of which are really not important to the story.

The setting of the cottage, which really isn't a cottage, per se, it is a cabin, high atop a hill, overlooking one of the Finger Lakes in New York, is quiet, somewhat rugged (although we have a nice new hot water heater, shower, and other bathroom facilities) and very peaceful. To get to the lakefront you have to traverse the stairs, which I have never heard one person NOT complain about, save my 4 year old grandson, who has too much energy anyway. There are 110 steps between the cottage and the lake, the only nice part being that it feels like you are taking a walk in the woods with all the trees around. The bad part is that it is like climbing 7 stories, and after doing that five times a day, it gets annoying. The first summer there I lost a pants size, which I have never gained back, so I guess I shouldn't complain. My husband has set up Direct TV which kind of shatters the illusion for me that we are away from all civilization, but it does help in the pitch black evenings, when the kids want to stay up late, to keep them busy watching something, so I can go to bed.

My Fort

When I was little, my two best friends, and I used to build "forts" in the woods in our neighborhood. A fort was a place you made when you wanted to hide away from everyone. For some reason your fort made you feel safe. Sometimes your fort was more like a "clubhouse" that you built with boards and nails and stuff that you scavenged off of people. Most times it was just a little clearing in the woods that you put stones around to mark it as yours.

You used all your mothers old hand-me-down stuff to fix it up and you didn't worry about stuff when you were in your fort. It wasn't like the real world. The world of school, and work, and chores, and parents bossing you around, and all the stuff that makes you grow up. It wasn't like that world.

In your fort, it was just you and her, dressed in your father's very old, white button down shirts, that they used to wear to business meetings but now the collar is frayed and the elbows are thin, so you begged to have it before it was thrown in the rag pile. The shirt tails hung down to your knees, but you liked it that way. You and your best friend wore these funny looking sailor hats on your heads and with your best friend and her sister by your side, you felt like you could conquer any enemy.

My friend could draw. She couldn't just draw. She could draw like a real artist. You would sit and dream about how you were going to write a book and how it would be published someday. She would sit and draw like she was going to be a real artist. Her sister didn't know what she wanted to be but we knew she was really smart. Smarter than us even though she was a whole year younger!

On Saturdays you would look through all the couches at both of your houses and when you found enough pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters (you were luuuckeeeee if you found a quarter!) you would walk up to the five and dime a few streets away and you would buy a bunch of candy and stuff that your mother would NEVER let you have at home and when you got back to your fort you would sit and eat Twinkies and candy bars and dream about all the stuff you would buy if you ever had a million dollars. You would forget that soon you would have to go home and "pretend" to eat dinner because if you didn't your mother would find out that you ate junk food in your fort and she might tell you that you couldn't have your fort anymore.

In your fort you could be anyone that you wanted to be and no one was around telling you anything else. I knew my friend would be a great artist someday and she knew I would be a great writer. We didn't know what her sister would be great at but we knew she would be great because she was so smart. Smarter than almost anybody!

In your fort you could pretend. You could pretend that the world wasn't really so big, and bad and scary. You forgot, until your mother rang the cowbell at the door to come in for dinner reminded you, you forgot that there even was a "real world" out there.

Your fort was your fort and other kids weren't supposed to come in your fort unless they asked. It was an unspoken rule about forts. Your fort felt safe because you thought that no one else knew where your fort was, even if they did.

My friend grew up and went to a prestigious School of the Arts. I don't know if she ever became a "great" artist but she's still one of the best I ever knew and I know quite a few. Her sister grew up and became a lawyer. I don't know if she ever became a "great" lawyer because she got married, had kids, and maybe she thought they were more important than being a lawyer. In my mind, she will always be one of the smartest people I know.

I didn't want to grow up. The world was too scary to me. I married young. Maybe so I wouldn't feel so alone and scared in the world. I don't know. I raised some kids, then I raised some more. Ironically, it was having kids that made me grow up. I still wrote, but like Peggy and Janie, I don't know if I was ever "great" either. I wrote in spiral bound books that I called journals but after a while I would re-read the stuff and think it was dumb and throw it away. Now it is common for people to write in journals but back then I only knew a few people who did. I still write sometimes but I don't let people see it. They might laugh straight out, or think it's stupid, or they might just tell the sound man to turn the microphone down. Either way, it doesn't feel good.

You always thought that after you grew up you would be like all the other grown ups you knew when you were little. So wise, so perfect in every way. You always thought that when you grew up everything would be so happy because grown ups don't hurt your feelings the way your sisters and your friends at school did. That is what you thought. You always thought you wouldn't have to hide from the world in your fort anymore after you were grown up.

That is what you thought.

I'm glad that God knew I would need a fort when I was grown up. I'm glad He gave me one.

Okay, if you didn't read the post right before this one you need to start with that, otherwise you might think I've lost a screw. I know it's long but I hope you will find it worthwhile.

Continuing with the whole mother thing, taken from the verse that was quoted about Deborah, this is my conclusion. Well, assuming I don't suddenly have a third conclusion.....a fourth...naw, just joshin' ya!

So, as I continued presenting this whole thing before the Lord, He answered me a little at a time.

I asked, "Why mothers?"

Not that I don't believe that mothers can be used by the Lord. Hardly. I just wanted to know what was so special about mothers that was different from everyone else. Special enough that He took the time to tell me about it.



This is what came to me:

Mothers have learned to endure pain. The most excrutiating pain known to humanity.

Mothers have learned to put other people first, eating the "broken fried eggs", the end of the loaf, and the smallest piece of pizza.

Mothers have learned to get up in the middle of the night for something other than to go to the bathroom. Sometimes several times.

Mothers have learned to let people suck off of them.

Mothers have been humbled by the teenage daughter. If they ever, EVER thought they were "all that", by the time their daughters are 20 all delusions of grandeur have disappeared into a fog of uncertainty. Even if they continue to project a facade of "having it all together", underneath they are a quivering mass of confusion. Sons may or may not work the same humility. Depends.

Mothers have learned to forgive, courtesy of these same children. And to ask for forgiveness. And to forgive themselves.....for not being the picture of maternal perfection they always thought they would be.

Mothers have learned that the only thing that matters in life is life. Not projects, not buildings, not systems, not programs. Just life. That's all.

Mothers have learned how to give up all goals, all dreams, for the good of the family. Even if hell is breaking loose on the outside, they want peace and love in the family. It's called unity.

Mothers have learned:

patience from their pregnancies,

long-suffering from their births,

joy from the result,

kindness and gentleness from raising their toddlers,

goodness and peace from raising their middle age children,

faithfulness, agape love, and self-control from raising their teenagers.

I think at some point ministry isn't going to be based on

where you went to college,

or if you went to college,

what connections you have forged in the church by kissing up,

whose kid you happen to be,

your good public speaking abilities,

some nice, impressive title, like Rev., Bishop, Dr., Apostle,

some position you got by that same kissing up,

some pretty face that you had nothing to do with anyway because you were just born with it,

what gender you happened to born into,

or what natural charisma you exude.

It's not going to any of that any more.

It's going to be the humble,

the gentle,

the joyful,

the enduring,

the kind,

the patient,

the good,

the meek,

the long-suffering,

working faith out in love.

It's not going to be about forcing people to come "under your vision" and forget about theirs.

It is going to be about recognizing the gifts and abilities in the people God has given to you in your life and encouraging them to explore and flow in theirs.

It's going to be about putting your own dreams aside to help them grow in their gift and in love.

It's not going to be focusing on how big your church can become and will shift to how many people you can ably support, with your time and talents (not just your money), in their gifts.

It's not going to be about how wonderful you are at captivating an audience.

It is going to be the presence of the Holy Spirit, emanating from your innermost being, causing people to come to Christ, and get healed just from being around you. Not from anything you said or did. It will be about Christ in you, the only hope of glory.

Worship isn't going to be about being pretty on stage,

singing in tune,

only dancing in the aisle if you are a young delicate girl, or have a hard body,

only being on the church healing, prophetic, prayer teams just because you kowtow and play yesman to the Pastor, play golf with him or whether he likes you.

Worship is going to be about making a joyful noise unto the Lord. A sound that no devil in hell can drown out.

Intercession isn't going to be nice, little, programmed prayer meetings, hosting people who pray nice religious prayers with nice pious words.

Intercession is going to be people so hungry for God that their neccessary food becomes insignificant. So hungry that they don't even notice the time or complain if the prayers get long and sobby. So hungry that they groan with the urgency of the Holy Spirit. So hungry that every religious person who wants to continue in the status quo will be frightened off and think you are a kook.

Serving God won't be called "ministry" any more.

It will be so unrecognizable from all past "ministry" that people won't know what to call it. Maybe just serving the Lord. Maybe just being a Christian. It will bear no resemblance to the fancy suits and expensive shoes. It will be men changing other peoples babies, women rising up in faith for the healing of the nations. The preacher, male or female, preaching a great sermon, and then getting down on their knees, even in their suits, to lift a damaged soul up from the pit of hell.

There is no feeling in the world that compares to feeling soooo physically empty and soooo spiritually full. Nothin'.

Judges 5:7

"Village life had ceased, it ceased in Israel, until I, Deborah, arose, arose a mother in Israel."

I got a few positive responses from my last post so it has encouraged me to go deeper.

There are words that come instanteously, and there are words that God imparts, pieces at a time, over a long period, like through a mirror darkly, more and more becoming clear as in a dark room where the images become more distinct as ones eyes adjust to the darkness. This is one of those.

The original verse was like a lightening bolt from heaven when I saw it a few years ago. At least five.

I've read the whole Bible, from start to finish, and done in depth studies in different areas, however, when I saw this verse, it was like I was reading it for the first time.

That is why the Bible is described as "living". It is a "living" Word. And that is why God is "new every morning". He makes Himself new to us as He draws us ever deeper into Himself. If one thinks they will go as far as they can possibly go, while still living here, think again. The culmination will come until "we see Him as He is and become like Him". That is ONLY when we know that we have "arrived".

What the Lord showed me out of that verse is profound, if you consider that not only was Deborah a woman, but also of the time period that she lived in and how women were treated back then. Not only was Deborah the ONLY female judge of Israel, she was also a prophetess. God used her mightily and this was confirmed, even by the men around her (how unusual is that!)

The interesting thing about the verse is that Deborah did not refer to herself,in any way, based on her position. She easily could have said, "I, Deborah, a prophetess", or "I, Deborah, a judge in Israel". NO. She said, "I, Deborah, a MOTHER". She identified herself as a mother. With all the accolades she could have accepted from those around her, slowly beginning to believe her own "publicity", so to speak, she didn't. She knew who she was, and did not suddenly become in awe of herself, unlike some of the so-called ministers of the Gospel, who need promises of thousands of dollars to travel to your area, and special accommodations once they get there.

I'm remembering ten years ago when I was a youth leader. It sounds so long ago, but I remember it like yesterday. As my popularity in the Christian community around me escalated from, "Who are you, again?" to "Oh!, you're the woman who does 'Hardcore Worship' with the teenagers, I've heard of you!" (that was definitely a little disconcerting--as in 'exactly what have you heard?') I remember taking a distinct distaste to the term "youth leader".

I had lived 42 years of my life by then and had no delusions about myself or my life. It was what it was and that was fine with me. I was a mother in my home, a "professional mother" as I smilingly came to refer to myself, because of my foster care.

The popularity of the group increased to the point where I was hosting anywhere from 25-40 teenagers in my home on any given Saturday night.
They were supposed to bring a dish to pass but......you know teenagers! Half would show up with nothing so I got in the habit of making five or six big cassaroles and not worrying about it.

This group was not of my making. I did not ask these kids to come over and when they did it was like an onslaught. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED it.

Kids want God? Teenagers!?!? They LIKE the way I worship? They WANT to spend time with some old fuddy duddy whose two oldest kids were in college and the youngest in late high school?

There were no adopted kids at that time and I had just lost my three younger (now adopted) kids when they went back to live with their mother (again!). I was a little lost, having three older children and losing three under six who had been the focus of my days. I was used to being 'tolerated' by my kids mostly non-Christian friends. Yeah, they liked my innate silliness, but they were stymied by the Bible verses all over the house. On the refrigerator, the bathroom mirror, the window in the kitchen. They found me easy to talk to but when I started quoting scripture, from which all my answers to life have come, they glazed over. When Hardcore Worship started no one was more suprised than me.

They began calling, coming over all the time, moving in. They invited me to their birthday parties, graduation celebrations, campfires. Once, when I took three new foster kids bowling, they found out. They all called each other and said 'let's go bowling with Connie!' They showed up, 25 strong, and the bowling alley guy reprimanded me about how I should call first if I was going to have a 'youth event'. I stuttered and stammered and said I didn't know it was happening!

I didn't know what to make of the whole thing but I knew I loved it. God moved mightily. I prayed over them and they got baptised in the Holy Spirit and began worshipping God in a free way like they never had before. My son, who was 17 at the time, was caught up in the midst. One of the kids said to him at school one day, "Your mom is so cool. She worships like a teenager!" He turned and pointed right at the kid. He said, "Excuse me? I have never seen any of you worship like that until you met my mom. I think you have learned to worship like a 42 year old woman!"

As my 'popularity' increased so did this underlying uneasiness. There was controversy. I have never been controversial, not in my whole life. Maybe I had never done enough in my life to be controversial about.

There was also this tendency for people to put me on pedestal. The kids, some of the parents (some actually did the opposite, they didn't like me AT ALL). This, in turn, brought on the leadership of the church. One set of parents, in particular, who REALLY didn't like me kept going to the Pastor to complain. Since they were socially familiar with him, and I was pretty much a nobody who stayed home and took care of my children, I came out on the wrong end.

When there were complaints I tried to defend myself, not to make excuses, but to help them understand me. I was called defensive. This was a time of great struggle for me; searching God's Word, praying, crying. I had such awesome respect for these men that I did not think it possible that I could be hearing God, and that what I was hearing could be different from them. But God, kept giving me words to the effect of, "Do not be dismayed before their faces, lest I dismay you before them" Jer.1:17b. Word after Word after Word came. At one point I just went to bed and shut down. For three days.

I got a call. The pastors and elders wanted to meet with me. My stomach felt sick. It was a Monday night, 6 pm. The meeting lasted for four hours. My husband and I walked into the room to see three pastors and four elders at the big square table. I was told that I must accept certain "rules" for the ministry that was going on in my home. Since I was pretty insecure and unsure of myself back then I prepared myself to accept them. As they began listing the rules my throat started to choke.

Rule # 2. You may not have any teenager over to your house, other than Saturday night (Hardcore Worship night), unless you have prior permission from the Youth Pastor.

What??? I couldn't believe my ears.

"You mean if one of the kids (some of them had cars) just stopped by for dinner or dessert on the spur of the moment, or came over after school to hang for a couple of hours I can't let them in?" My OWN house?

Surely they didn't mean what I thought they did. "No. Only on Saturday night."

"But, what will I say if they stop over?"

"You will call the Youth Pastor and ask him if it is alright if they come in"

Gulp.

"And what do I do if he says no?"

"You will cheerfully tell them to go home."

I was stunned. I started to cry. This had to be some kind of dream.

I am nothing if not hospitable. It's like my gift. I have never turned anyone away from my door. These kids had become my friends, my son's friends, a part of our family life.

It didn't make sense to me. How could they punish me, my family, the Hardcore kids, just because someone who didn't even know me complained? Wasn't I doing a GOOD thing? Why would they want to stop it?

I asked why, if they were in the least concerned about what was going on at my house, why, they didn't come over and see for themselves? Spend time with the kids, many of them theirs, and see the move of God for themselves? Their answer shocked me. More than the ruling. It infuriated me.

They did not "have time".

Who doesn't have time for their own kid? I couldn't believe what was happening.

There were five more rules and then they were done. My husband, the quiet man that he is, mumbled a few words trying to make sense of this insensibility. I sat there like a stone. The Pastor asked, "Are you going to agree with this?" My mouth was dry and the words wouldn't come out. I could hardly speak and my voice came out like a whisper, "This violates the leadership of my home. My husband is the only one I submit to in my home. Besides, I only submit to other people on the basis of my relationship with them."

You could have heard a pin drop. The Pastor's face got beet red. He stood up, leaned over the table, and pointed his finger in my face. He said, "YOU WILL OBEY THESE RULES OR YOU WILL NO LONGER BE A YOUTH LEADER IN THIS CHURCH!"

Well, that is the point of my story. Right there. Do you see it? I am not a youth leader. I am a mother, a professional mother. I told him that. I told him, "I don't need to be a youth leader; I never asked to be or even wanted to be one. You asked me, remember? I am a mother. Just a mother."

I didn't get snippy about it. I stated it like a fact. It is the fact of my life. I am not ashamed to be "just a mother". Just a mother is what I am and what I will always consider myself first, before anything else. God could give me a wonderful healing ministry. I would love that. But FIRST, I am a mother.

They got afraid then. You could almost smell the fear in the room. Never having bothered to get to know me, they thought I might bring severe division to the church via the youth. I might cause a mini-split in the church, so to speak.

They told me to go home and think about it and get back to them. The Pastor was fuming but all around us the elders gathered laying hands on us and praying for "wisdom".

I got home and my oldest daughter asked how it went. That's when I blew. Blew like a gas pipe blowing the roof off the house. I will spare you my tirade but maybe I will find a copy of the letter I sent to each Pastor and each Elder the next day and put it down for all the blogging world to see.

That happened in the spring of 1997. It still took me a couple of years to fully process what had happened and what God was saying about it.

One of the precious treasures that God gave me during that time, something I have shared with very few,

"And who is a chosen man that I may appoint over her? For who is like Me? Who will arraign Me? And who is that shepherd Who will withstand Me?" Jer. 50:44 NKJV

Having lawyers in the family helps. The word arraign means to bring up on charges before the court. What God was trying to tell me was, "They can 'arraign' you, Connie, but who is going to 'arraign' ME? Who is going to bring ME up on charges?" It is a VERY precious verse to me. That began my journey out from the stronghold of churchism.

It is my contention, after all that I have been through, that the next wave of ministry is going to be through women, specifically mothers. I have alot more to say on that subject. I will just leave it right now that the men in this country that believe that women should shut up and get in the kitchen, the men who are upset because Anne Graham Lotz, Billy Graham's daughter, is out there preaching and said that she should "stay in her place" (this was on the front cover of Charisma a few years ago), are going to have a hard time.

Women have been staying at home taking care of their families, but have been spending their free time, what little of it they have, in their prayer closets. He (she) who humbles himself, God will raise up. I have more to say on this subject, much more. It's coming, believe me it's coming.