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Many
people struggle with a negative mind set towards themselves and towards
life, yet don't know how to achieve a final life-changing breakthrough.
In the first part of this 2-part series, John shares his own experience
on overcoming a negative self image and ‘my life counts for nothing’
thinking. You will understand the process of changing your thoughts and
how His life in your spirit flows out into your soul and emotions. This
series will provide insights and direction into breaking the momentum of
the past and building a momentum towards life. (2 cd/MP3, $12/set or MP3 $10)
You
may manage your subscription (change email, un-subscribe, etc) by
clicking the link at the bottom of this page. And remember to use cwowi@aol.com to email me personally.
Hi all,
I
was invited by an Episcopal (Anglican) priest to teach a house church
conference in his Episcopal church, which I thought was a strange, but I
went anyway. When I walked into that church with its rich woodwork,
orderly pews, altar and the eternal flame up front, memories of my
childhood flooded back to me in rapid fire succession like a movie
trying to show years of a person's life in a matter of seconds.
It's all I knew
"That
flame is the presence of the Lord", was mom's answer to my question
of, "What is that red candle on the wall by the altar?", as we walked
across the back of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Kokomo, Indiana.
I
was probably 8 years old if that, and mom was introducing us to church
for the first time. As she answered, I was trying to wrap my mind around
God living in that building, right there behind the altar, with us just
THAT close to Him, while also thinking I could walk up there and blow
the candle out - then what would happen to the universe? Would I be
struck dead? I didn't want to think about it.
Part
of me wanted to run outside and stop passing cars with the great news
that God lived in the church building RIGHT THERE! Part of me wondered
why, if this was real, weren't others running out and stopping passing
cars with this exciting news? Something didn't make sense, I thought to
myself.
St.
Andrew's was my introduction to Christianity and church life. We went
to church, genuflected before entering our pew, to give respect to Jesus
or something, and settled in. In my mind we always made a scene when we
went to church each Sunday - 4 kids each born 2 years apart so we
looked like perfect stair steps - and everyone turned to see dad lead
the way, then mom, then we 4 in birth order.
Older
women would smile while I cringed inside. Someone patted me on the head
once and I offered a look I thought was part snarling dog and part
'Yes, I know we're cute and we'll make the most of it at fellowship hour to get an extra donut'.
Things changed, but didn't
Dad
left our family when I was 11 1/2 years old, but mom kept taking us to
church each week. The divorce is what drove mom to seek the Lord, and
she found Him and the Baptism with the Holy Spirit. Soon, she and her
best friend in church were pushing our priest to allow tongues and
(heaven forbid), a guitar in worship!
I
didn't know all the infighting that was going on. I knew the liturgy
loosened up a bit, allowing a pause at places in the liturgy for members
of the congregation to speak out loud their prayer requests. It was
scary to a kid because like any traditional church, we were all in pews
facing forward, so you never knew where a loud voice was going to come
from - behind and right, front and left, the end of your own pew (how
embarrassing to be on the same row with someone who spoke out a prayer
request!).
I
felt like a Londoner in a bomb shelter during the Battle of Britain,
never knowing where some bomb would explode. Some people barely
whispered while others practically yelled. It was unnerving. And the
liturgy changed from thee and thine to you and yours, so that was
suddenly very strange, yet familiar.
But
everything else stayed the same - we entered in stair step order -
except dad was missing which made me feel conspicuous. Then the
processional, then we'd look at the board on the wall up front that had
hymn numbers which were sung in the posted order, (the younger kids left
after worship to go to Sunday school), followed by a 20 minute homily
with exactly 1 joke, then the ceremony around Communion, receiving
Communion in the long lines as pew by pew went forward, then the
recessional, then to the donuts downstairs for 'fellowship hour'. Sunday
after Sunday, the order never varied.
Gong show
Even
then I had a desire to find out about God, and Father Cooper was very
good during Confirmation classes stirring our 12 year old minds with the
unfathomable. I remember a whole class was spent answering the question
of where the very first atom came from. Could it exist by chance, or
was it Created?
One
other thing I remember about Confirmation. When the Sunday came for our
class to be Confirmed, one of the girls in the class who was also a
friend of mine, Margaret, had brought
her next door neighbor and best friend to watch us get Confirmed.
I
stumbled over the stairs and my words upon meeting her that day. She
recalled later I was a chubby, clumsy, red headed kid with buck teeth,
in an ugly green wool suit and there was NO WAY she would give me more
than a passing greeting. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I
had ever seen, and especially liked her blunt transparency and ornery
streak with a touch of mischievousness. Little did she know that
within 3 1/2 years she would 'go steady' with that chubby red headed kid
who had stretched to 6' 6" tall, got his teeth straightened, his hair
turned blonde, and within 7 years he would ask her to marry him.
Father
In
my teen years I was searching for a father though that desire had
yet to gel and become fully defined in my mind. I was searching, I just
didn't know what for. So I became an altar boy, and acolyte. I think 2
of us served each Sunday, marching in the processional and recessional
with Father Cooper, and assisting with the Lord's Supper and ringing
the bell at the right time.
The
right time to ring that bell was when Father Cooper was preparing the
Lord's Supper, and he would kneel down and strike his chest with his
fist 3 times, saying, 'Lord, I am not worthy', 'Lord, I am not worthy',
'Lord, I am not worthy', and then the altar boy was to hit the gong
after each statement of being unworthy - not too loud so as to make
someone pee their pants in the congregation, but not so soft that old
Mrs. Whoever couldn't hear what was going on. It was hard to get it
exactly right.
The
trouble was, we were all kneeling over at the time, supposed to be
looking forward and down, and I never could anticipate the timing of the
'I am not worthy' thump on his chest. At various times the congregation
heard 'Lord, I am GONG....a pause to let the echo fade...not worthy',
and other times the bell wouldn't be hit at all because my mind was
drifting off to donuts or how hot it was or something like that.
Didn't fit in, even then
That
was the first time I realized I didn't fit into church life. No matter
how familiar the routine became, I felt no connection to any of it. God -
I thought He was worth checking into - but none of the rest of it
seemed to fit me, nor I, it. All I did in church got me no closer to
Him, but it was all I knew at the time.
The
big change in my life came in 1974 when a girl in German class, Janny, a
Roman Catholic believer, would tell me about the Lord in between
language exercises. I had scoffed at my mom's faith, but Janny was
different - she told me of situations she and her boyfriend (her future
husband) would encounter, how they prayed, and how the Lord answered
those prayers. She didn't preach at me as mom did, she just opened her
heart to talk of walking through teenage life in faith.
When
I mentally tracked 7 answered prayers in a row I decided that was proof
enough that Jesus and God the Father in particular could be personal. I
went home and reasoned it out - if Jesus has the last word in my life,
then if I lived for Him, no matter what other people thought of me and
my faith, or how they hated me or spoke evil of me, if He would have the
last word it only made sense to serve Him now. On that basis I 'asked
Him into my heart' - told Him I believed He was God, and He could have
my life if He wanted it. (Though I sincerely doubted He'd take me up on
that offer). Then I started talking to the Father.
Prayer meetings
Janny's
boyfriend had led her to the Lord, Janny led me, then I led my
girlfriend - the pretty girl I saw at Confirmation 3 1/2 years
earlier, to the Lord. They started discipling Barb and I though I didn't
know that's what they were doing. They were just being friends, taking
us to a Saturday night prayer meeting out at a farm house, talking about
the Lord at Pizza Hut afterwards...and in those German classes. They
even took us for a drive out into the country one day where we found a
spot on someone's lawn, sat in a circle holding hands, and prayed that
Barb and I might receive the Baptism with the Holy Spirit. And we did.
The
Saturday night 'prayer meeting' as we called it back then, was a weekly
home gathering of Spirit-filled believers from all sorts of
backgrounds, but full of love and joy and pureness for the Lord. The
worship had the 1970's musical instrument, the auto-harp, which must
have been a required instrument in some unspoken Charismatic Renewal
rule or something because autoharps were ALWAYS in meetings back then.
We
would worship until we could worship no more. We studied the Bible,
someone had a lesson, there was prayer for anyone who wanted it, and if
the whole night was spent in worship or maybe praying for something
or someone in attendance, so be it, that must be what the Lord wants so
out with man's plan, let God be God.
It
was there I saw my first miracle. The hosts for those meetings had a
farm dog, a German Shepherd, who got kicked by a horse or cow so that a
tooth was dangling by a mere strand of tissue and his mouth was swollen
and other teeth misplaced by the force of the kick.
After
removing our hands from his muzzle the mouth and tooth that had been so
damaged a couple minutes earlier, was now completely normal, with the
canine tooth that had been dangling, now firmly back in place - and off
the dog ran to be play, completely healed!
The start of being ruined
I
remember going back to St. Andrew's Episcopal Church after the Baptism
with the Holy Spirit, after some of those Saturday prayer meetings, and
reading the liturgy with shock and surprise - "Hey, this stuff is
scriptural!" I said to myself. The Nicene Creed and Apostle's Creed were
correct! I had never seen that before. I was amazed the Episcopalians
had so much of the core belief correct.
And
then the rest of the service proceeded...and the uncomfortable feeling
you get when you don't fit in and you think everyone can see or sense
that about you came roaring back. I wanted to be back at our Saturday
night prayer meetings! I wanted to tell them they don't need all these
trappings. They don't need the robes, the incense, the 3 dings of the
bell, the stained glass!
I
was on my way to being ruined...but I had another 25 years to go before
I fully realized it. More next week on what ruined me. Blessings,
John Fenn
Remember to use cwowi@aol.com for personal email
