My Inspiration, part 2

Alright, then, where did I leave off?  Oh, yes.  At the age of twelve (or was it thirteen?) I had unknowingly been inspired to get involved in church ministries and leadership.

The next few years were a mess of high school, teenage love and personal discovery.  I read the Bible straight through by the time I was 14 and had my first mega-church experience by 15.  When I was 16 I joined my youth group's leadership team.  I graduated when I was 17 and started working at my church's day care center on my 18th birthday.  I did a college internship at 19 and spent a year away from my home, my family and my God.  I moved back home when I was 20, and I met the love of my life.  Six months later, we married and moved to Ohio.  That's when all the fun started.

A pastor friend of ours had invited us to volunteer in his small inner-city church, and we had agreed.  My husband and I arrived in Ohio on a rainy Sunday morning.  We had a red Jetta, a compact Mazda truck and asmall trailer packed full of all our worldly possessions.  (Okay, so the trailer was an old pickup bed with a plywood floor.)  Neither one of us had cell phones; it was a miracle we stayed together over the three-state drive!  To me and my husband, it seemed that God's favor was shining on us.  Rather, it seemed to until we realized we had no job, no home and no prospect of either in the near future.  Unsure of our fate and questioning our better judgement, we went with our friend to a house-church service that night.

I had never seen such a thing in my life.  Nearly two dozen people had gathered in a parsonage to light candles, sing worship songs and share their praises, prayers and struggles with each other.  Even now, the closest thing I can compare it to is the church described in Acts 2.  It was a living, breathing, beautiful thing.  Though we were new, my husband and I felt comfortable.  We felt welcome.  We felt like we belonged.

After the music and the devotion, there was a time of open prayer.  The people who had gathered shared their hearts with each other, not just their words.  Moved by the warm reception we had received, my husband and I shared our no-job-or-place-to-live-or-stay story.  We received the group's prayers and finished the night's activities.  Soon after the final prayer was spoken, I was approached by one of the women.  She and her husband had heard our story.  They invited us to stay the night at their house.  We were strangers to them, and they opened their home to us based on the fact that we were trying to follow God.  I am still amazed at their kindness.  We continued to worship with that group for months.

A couple weeks later, we found a place to stay and we each had jobs.  However, we were out of money, and we wouldn't receive our first paychecks for at least three weeks.  Not knowing what to do, we brought our need before the house church.  Again, we received prayer and finished the night not knowing the answer.  One of the members even spoke with my husband afterwards, wishing us well.

When we got home that night my husband pulled a small rectangular paper from his pocket.  "Hey, that guy I spoke to gave me this check, but I don't know what it's for," he told me.  He unfolded the paper, and we both gasped.  The check was for $300.  Apparently, the man had an account set aside from his regular funds.  Not a savings account, exactly.  I was told it was a "God account."  That money lasted exactly until my first paycheck.

Since moving to Ohio, I have seen the inner-workings of small inner city churches.  Over the past five years, I have seen the passion of pastors, the wisdom of district leaders and the foolishness of their replacements.  I have witnessed a successful church merger and a struggling church renewal.  I've had a neighbor who was homeless and a neighbor who won the lottery, and both were more genuine than some of the leaders I've encountered.

I've seen the lost, the confused and the hungry both on the streets and in the church.  Though I've done what I know how to do, sometimes I feel like it's not enough.  Too often the individual Christ followers and Christ seekers are lost in the trenches of American Christian heirarchy.  This is what I want to address.  This is what I want to change.

It seems to me that the best thing I can do is be a clear voice in the madness of doctrine and dogma.  As a preacher's wife and non-profit secretary, I see what happens behind the scenes.  I believe that I can use my perspective to address issues and events in the American church.  I do not assume to have all (or even any) answers.  That would be very arrogant of me.  I simply hope to bring attention to the good, the bad and the godly.

I would like to ask my readers to keep me on my toes.  If at any point I fail to uphold the purpose of this blog, please let me know.  I would hate to act or speak in a way that is contrary to my passion.  Have a wonderful upcoming Easter weekend, and I will begin regular posting soon.