When the Roll is Called Up Yonder I'll Be There
I had a "teacher friend" come to me this morning before school actually started and she told me she had been praying for me all weekend. Praying for my husband too, and was going to keep praying for me/for us. She didn't find out about this separation/divorce until Thursday of last week. I just don't talk about it at school. I just don't, but she was in our grade level meeting and I gave a little "this is how I'm feeling" share moment for about 45 seconds. After telling me she will be praying for me, she said something like, "it seems like something can be done what with so many years of marriage and the kids and all that you've shared"...
She also asked me if I was still going to >>>> church? (b/c we go to same church) I said, "no." Then she asks if I am going anywhere? I replied, "no, again." Her reply was, "Then right there is the problem."
As soon as those words were out of her mouth, I instantly felt something akin to a "recoiling." Does that make sense? Ok, so yes, perhaps it would be good for me to attend church sometime or yes, I do need people praying for me, BUT the problem is not b/c I'm not attending church somewhere. Hardly is that the reason for "my problem." Now, don't get me wrong, I appreciated this sweet person's care and concern for me and my family. This "teacher friend" is a really nice woman and I like her a lot, and I know she is genuinely telling me the truth when she says she is praying for me. I know she is. I appreciate it. I need all the prayers I can get! I'm not really sure why that one statement kind of "rankled me," but it did.
I'm not afraid to say I am a Christian. I DO believe in God. I have been saved. I do KNOW I will go to Heaven when I die. I believe in prayer and the good that comes from it. I'm not sure how a person survives life's obstacles and emergencies and just every day living without prayer. I would be lost and floating in outer space somewhere if I didn't have the ability to pray and believe in my soul that it worked. I believe God hears me and I believe He answers prayer. The answer may not always be what I want or what I'm asking for, but He does answer my prayers. He answers them as He sees fit, in His timing, not mine. He always looks out for my best interests. He knows better what we need than we do ourselves. He formed me in my mother's womb and knows the number of hairs on my head. He knows when a little sparrow falls from its nest. He surely loves me. I'm a believer. Fact.
As a child, I grew up in those southern baptist churches. I don't mean Southern Baptist, I'm talking about a good ole southern Baptist church, country Baptist, baby. You can't even know what I'm talking about unless "you've been there done that." NO WAY to get you to understand unless you just KNOW, but I'll try to explain the best way I can. :) This is the kind of church where the man behind the pulpit is called the Preacher, not the Pastor. A typical greeting would be, "Good Morning, Preacher Jim." or "How are you today, Preacher?" When Preacher preached, we could hear the hell, fire and brimstone crackle!!! (these preachers didn't stick to any "30/45 minute sermon rule"; these guys paid no attention to the clock whatsoever. We got out when we got out.) The preacher's voice got very loud, no microphone was ever used, and he would start sucking in big deep breaths from where he'd gotten all worked up delivering his sermon. There would be one of those "suck in breaths" after every third word or so. I don't know how those preachers didn't collapse from exhaustion or hyperventilation!! Not only was his voice loud, his breathing deep and shallow, but he paced back and forth with complete deliberation and got all bouncy on his toes and kept switching the Bible from one hand to the other in between pounding it on the pulpit and b/c he's all into it and going full throttle, he would sweat to beat the band and what did he use to wipe his forehead?? Yessiree, one of those white handkerchiefs he kept in the back pocket of his polyester pants. Indeed. I'm talking INTENSE sermons, People. I know all about them!! Back then, those preachers could scare you to death with those hell and damnation sermons! We also had regular "Homecomings," baptisms by the river/in the river, gospel sings, feet washings, revivals that lasted at least a week, and weekly visitations by one deacon or the other. I went to Sunday School and church every Sunday when I was little. I still remember the name of one of my favorite Sunday School teachers, Mrs. Edwards. Georgia Edwards. I loved her!
One of my favorite childhood memories is of my grandmother and me sitting in one of the wooden church pews close to the front b/c she wanted to hear that Preacher and not miss one word! Well, after so long of hearing Preacher yell and lose his breath, I tuned him out and my grandmother would let me lay my head in her lap and she would scratch my head or tickle my ear until I eventually fell asleep. I can still feel her hands on my head lulling me to sleep with pure love coming out of her fingers. Lord, I miss that woman!! Anyway...
My point is, I've been a church goer my entire life. I wanted to go. I wanted my kids to go and we did, however, I'm at a place now that I don't particularly want to go to church. Is that bad? I don't think so; some might think it's bad, but I can't worry about what other people think right now... or ever. (this is what happens when you turn 50. You don't care what people think anymore. It's fabulous!!) Here's what I think... If I don't go to church, it doesn't mean I'm any less religious. It doesn't mean I've fallen off the "Christian Wagon." I'm still the same as I was the day I accepted Christ into my heart when I was 8 years old. Of course, I've grown and learned and matured in my faith; that's what we're supposed to do if we take it seriously. But for now, I need some space from church and church people. I'm not ready to spill the beans to the multitudes who know me. I need my own time. I need time with God my way. No matter where I am, He's there too, right? Ok. So the problem is not that I'm not going to church. I just had to say that one more time.
Alrighty then, I'm "over and out" for tonight.
Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite!
Love and Hugs,
D~
She also asked me if I was still going to >>>> church? (b/c we go to same church) I said, "no." Then she asks if I am going anywhere? I replied, "no, again." Her reply was, "Then right there is the problem."
As soon as those words were out of her mouth, I instantly felt something akin to a "recoiling." Does that make sense? Ok, so yes, perhaps it would be good for me to attend church sometime or yes, I do need people praying for me, BUT the problem is not b/c I'm not attending church somewhere. Hardly is that the reason for "my problem." Now, don't get me wrong, I appreciated this sweet person's care and concern for me and my family. This "teacher friend" is a really nice woman and I like her a lot, and I know she is genuinely telling me the truth when she says she is praying for me. I know she is. I appreciate it. I need all the prayers I can get! I'm not really sure why that one statement kind of "rankled me," but it did.
I'm not afraid to say I am a Christian. I DO believe in God. I have been saved. I do KNOW I will go to Heaven when I die. I believe in prayer and the good that comes from it. I'm not sure how a person survives life's obstacles and emergencies and just every day living without prayer. I would be lost and floating in outer space somewhere if I didn't have the ability to pray and believe in my soul that it worked. I believe God hears me and I believe He answers prayer. The answer may not always be what I want or what I'm asking for, but He does answer my prayers. He answers them as He sees fit, in His timing, not mine. He always looks out for my best interests. He knows better what we need than we do ourselves. He formed me in my mother's womb and knows the number of hairs on my head. He knows when a little sparrow falls from its nest. He surely loves me. I'm a believer. Fact.
As a child, I grew up in those southern baptist churches. I don't mean Southern Baptist, I'm talking about a good ole southern Baptist church, country Baptist, baby. You can't even know what I'm talking about unless "you've been there done that." NO WAY to get you to understand unless you just KNOW, but I'll try to explain the best way I can. :) This is the kind of church where the man behind the pulpit is called the Preacher, not the Pastor. A typical greeting would be, "Good Morning, Preacher Jim." or "How are you today, Preacher?" When Preacher preached, we could hear the hell, fire and brimstone crackle!!! (these preachers didn't stick to any "30/45 minute sermon rule"; these guys paid no attention to the clock whatsoever. We got out when we got out.) The preacher's voice got very loud, no microphone was ever used, and he would start sucking in big deep breaths from where he'd gotten all worked up delivering his sermon. There would be one of those "suck in breaths" after every third word or so. I don't know how those preachers didn't collapse from exhaustion or hyperventilation!! Not only was his voice loud, his breathing deep and shallow, but he paced back and forth with complete deliberation and got all bouncy on his toes and kept switching the Bible from one hand to the other in between pounding it on the pulpit and b/c he's all into it and going full throttle, he would sweat to beat the band and what did he use to wipe his forehead?? Yessiree, one of those white handkerchiefs he kept in the back pocket of his polyester pants. Indeed. I'm talking INTENSE sermons, People. I know all about them!! Back then, those preachers could scare you to death with those hell and damnation sermons! We also had regular "Homecomings," baptisms by the river/in the river, gospel sings, feet washings, revivals that lasted at least a week, and weekly visitations by one deacon or the other. I went to Sunday School and church every Sunday when I was little. I still remember the name of one of my favorite Sunday School teachers, Mrs. Edwards. Georgia Edwards. I loved her!
One of my favorite childhood memories is of my grandmother and me sitting in one of the wooden church pews close to the front b/c she wanted to hear that Preacher and not miss one word! Well, after so long of hearing Preacher yell and lose his breath, I tuned him out and my grandmother would let me lay my head in her lap and she would scratch my head or tickle my ear until I eventually fell asleep. I can still feel her hands on my head lulling me to sleep with pure love coming out of her fingers. Lord, I miss that woman!! Anyway...
My point is, I've been a church goer my entire life. I wanted to go. I wanted my kids to go and we did, however, I'm at a place now that I don't particularly want to go to church. Is that bad? I don't think so; some might think it's bad, but I can't worry about what other people think right now... or ever. (this is what happens when you turn 50. You don't care what people think anymore. It's fabulous!!) Here's what I think... If I don't go to church, it doesn't mean I'm any less religious. It doesn't mean I've fallen off the "Christian Wagon." I'm still the same as I was the day I accepted Christ into my heart when I was 8 years old. Of course, I've grown and learned and matured in my faith; that's what we're supposed to do if we take it seriously. But for now, I need some space from church and church people. I'm not ready to spill the beans to the multitudes who know me. I need my own time. I need time with God my way. No matter where I am, He's there too, right? Ok. So the problem is not that I'm not going to church. I just had to say that one more time.
Alrighty then, I'm "over and out" for tonight.
Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite!
Love and Hugs,
D~
I love church stories. They are the best. Did your old church have snakes? Snakes draw in the crowds. Great post. gf
ReplyDeletegf, no snakes.
ReplyDelete