Jericho's Walls

(If you have ever been a part of a church that subtly steered away from true north and you have been wounded and/or left to question everything you once believed to be true regarding your faith, this one's for you. I wrote this 4 years ago for myself when a church I had once considered as family crumbled under the weight of sin. Although there are still times that I struggle within the body of Christ, God continues to bring healing, hope and redemption.  Don't give up on the family of God--step inside the doors of a healthy church, full of ragamuffins like myself, who are determined to stay the course together in service and devotion to Him.) 

Sometimes at church, during worship, I close my eyes and I forget where I am at. At that moment, my mind takes me back to THAT place; the place where I once belonged.  

In these moments, silence and stillness surround me.  Though my eyes are closed, the weight of my memories and emotions permeate to the center of my soul.

In that place where I once belonged, my mouth sings songs of worship to God from a heart that feels alive and loved, in that place called church.

I stand with one foot slightly in front of the other as I balance my weight on the angled floor of what had once-upon-a-time been a movie theater.  The seats are an awful color, the carpet an even more horrendous color. Yet, somehow, I am at peace within the walls of an old downtown theatre in need of significant repair—my church.

In that place, the sound of worship is deafening, so loud in fact that I cannot hear my own voice. However, in my current state of closed-eye reminiscing there is nothing but silence. I stand in total stillness breathing in the sweet aroma of corporate worship.

I open my eyes and find myself propelled to the future, or what is now called the present—thousands of miles away from my tattered theatre chair—a place known as HERE— my new church. Glancing around at unfamiliar faces, I feel anonymous and unseen. My heart feels trapped somewhere between THERE and HERE.

I close my eyes again in an attempt to go back to my theatre-chair church.  However, this time I feel the floor quaking beneath my feet as the walls of Jericho, the downtown theater church, begin to crumble.  

The throne near the pulpit is struck with lightning as God declares His jealousy for a people who have placed a man on His sacred throne.  I hit the floor at the weight of His anger, my dirty hands tremble at the rumbling thunder of His voice.

I quickly open my eyes again to HERE, but my heart beats rapidly within at the horror happening THERE, in real time, at my theatre church. The pit in my stomach serves to remind me that this is not a dream, it is a reality.  

An earthquake shakes the building. Debris and chaos fill the old theatre church. Shaking, violent shaking and more shaking accompanied with clouds of smoke, loud screams, weeping, and finally darkness and eerie silence.

Adjusting my eyes to the darkness, the scene is comparable to a war zone: wounded attempt to help wounded while the majority of churchgoers are frozen in shock at the sight of it all.  I cover my face with shaking hands, but my heart remains smack dab in the middle of the fallen walls of Jericho.

As time moves forward, the body of believers within the fallen walls of the old theatre church attempt to understand the present state of affairs. Battle lines are unwittingly drawn, brother against brother.  Birthed from a crippling fear, a war amongst believers ensues. Feelings of ambivalence are in full swing as new believers, and seasoned saints alike find the essence of their faith shaken to the core.

My heart breaks as I watch from HERE. I can’t help but feel the pain and confusion and hurt of each wounded believer.  From my viewpoint, I can only watch and pray and hope that God will heal the church, my church.  I secretly wonder if my own heart might also find healing somewhere between THERE and HERE.

Years before Jericho’s walls came tumbling down, I was a loyal member of the old theatre church. And before Jericho’s walls came down, I still fought in the trenches for truth—me and a small army of rejected fellow soldiers. We wept, prayed and waited. Both in love and in anger; if such a thing is possible.

Secrets are exposed, lies are revealed; the sin of my own heart not exempt from the messy scene of a church that has forgotten her First Love.  

Even from HERE I pray for THERE; the place I once belonged, the place I pray can recover from the devastation of sin.  I pray that rebirth will coincide with the rebuilding of the church, as well as a recommitment to keep God on His throne. I pray that the church will remember the God who is Jealous and will return to her First Love.

I open my eyes, and I am HERE at my present church. Worship has ended.  I quietly resign to my anonymous seat as the pastor prepares to give his sermon.

No one can see the weight of grief and sadness I am holding; scars and wounds inflicted within from the battles I have fought. I am wary of the longevity of the war.  My life has been forever changed in the process of a bloody struggle against the rulers and authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

My faith is frayed, my countenance weathered. Still, God remains my faithful friend through it all.  My Protector and Defender. I secretly plead with Him to not abandon me.

I am no longer THERE, I am HERE. 

The chain of inward disabilities which have held me captive loosen their grip on my heart as the voice of the Warrior Spirit within whispers hope from the ashes of a broken spirit. 

I trust that in time broken spirits can be renewed and trust regained. 

But mostly I pray for my heart to be set free from THERE so that I may live fully HERE—instead of trapped somewhere between THERE and HERE.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

How Can I Keep From Singing Your Praise?

Recently I read a book that positively changed the way I look at my life, other’s lives, and the lives of people across the globe. Oddly enough, the book was about the persecuted church.*

I don’t pretend to have any experience regarding being persecuted for my faith; but what I am learning about those who face persecution is changing how I live my life.

Persecuted brother’s and sister’s in various parts of the world share a mind-boggling commonality: in the midst of persecution, many sing songs of praise and worship to their Lord and Savior. This one commonality often differentiates those who survive being tortured and imprisoned over those who do not survive the same treatment.

Singing songs of praise and worship to God isn’t an idea learned from a book or a person—audibly worshipping God in the midst of the most perilous of situations wells up from a Spirit that understands how to break the power and the lies of Satan. Knowing that He who is within is greater than he who is in the world, makes each persecuted believer, though still behind bars, a slave to no man. “He leads forth the prisoners with singing…” (Psalm 68:6b)

In God’s Word we readily find examples of our brother’s and sister’s who share the same testimony. The zeal and commitment to live a life fully surrendered to Jesus is ALWAYS front and center. Nothing and no one has the power to control or shut down a life fully surrendered to Christ. Even when persecuted to the point of death, the believer who refuses to denounce Christ, dies a free man or woman and wins the ultimate prize: eternity with Jesus. 

The purpose of persecution is an attempt to halt the spreading of the Gospel; thus preventing entire generations from hearing about Jesus. When parents respond to persecution in fear instead of in faith and denounce Christ, their children are less likely to live for Christ. The antithesis for this problem is found in Psalm 89:1, “I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known through all generations.”

God’s faithfulness is greater than our fears. Our children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren need to witness a boldness that does not shrink back regardless of our circumstances. Instead of playing it safe, we are left with a choice to continue singing His praise, or not. Just as running a race well is not determined after the start gun goes off but during the training season—our mindset to be witnesses for Christ must be determined now, before we are faced with a perilous situation.

Apostle Paul is a great example of a man who ran the race well. Even in prison, Paul understood the power of praise, “About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners were listening to them.” (Acts 16:25) 

When a persecuted believer, full of the Spirit, and full of the Word of God, is thrown into prison, they land smack-dab in the middle of what we might call “prison ministry.” The Spirit cannot be quenched. Prayers and songs of praise flow from the heart, which in turn are heard by other prisoners. Many prisoners still come to Christ today through the witness of bold, sold-out persecuted believers. 

I don’t know about you, but this really motivates me to spend more time in God’s presence and to memorize His Word like never before. 

Instead of fearing death and clinging to life, I want to know Christ in such a way that I can live my life with the shared mindset of Paul, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21)

“May your priests be clothed with righteousness; may your saints sing for joy.” Psalm 132:9

Stay the Course…

Sheila

*Book: “The Insanity of God: A True Story of Faith Resurrected” by Nik Ripken

Trivial Little Moments

I believe it's human nature to anticipate big moments to find us throughout our lives. Moments that leave us awestruck in our endeavors to find purpose and meaning.  

After all, as we reflect on God's Word, we often think of the more significant moments or stories such as Daniel and the lion's den, David and Goliath, etc. We rarely reflect on the influence of ordinary everyday people living normal daily lives.

However, I am learning that answers to questions sometimes appear in small little moments when we are not expecting anything extraordinary to happen.

I had such a moment this week.

My husband and I spent four days driving in the Lower 48.

We stopped at a rest area in South Carolina early one brisk Sunday morning. I walked into the women's bathroom. The only other person in the bathroom was an employee, an older lady dressed in layers, wearing a hat with warm ear flaps around her face. 

Our eyes met as I greeted her and thanked her for working on such a cold morning. What happened next has never happened to me before (and will more than likely never happen again). 

Her face lit up with pure delight when she looked at me. Without hesitation, she joyfully spoke, "Good morning! You are so beautiful. What a thrill to get to be here to meet someone like you!"

I knew there was no one standing behind me, so she must be talking to me. She did not break her intent gaze, nor did she appear to feel awkward or to consider the fact that I might reject her unmerited kindness.

I slipped into the stall as she continued to talk to me as one would speak to someone with whom they felt comfortable.

"You are so amazing," she continued as though she didn't realize that I was no longer standing in front of her, "When you get out of there I'm going to give you a big hug!"

I froze in puzzlement. How would I get out of the stall and escape the embrace of a stranger? I was baffled. 

I couldn't comprehend her unmerited love and affection toward me.

Sure enough, I eventually emerged from my cubicle of safety, and there she was waiting for me— arms open wide.

I thought she might wait for me to wash my hands, but there was no concern on her face for whether or not my hands were clean. And hug me she did. I hugged her back.

But it didn't end there.

The sweet little lady followed me out of the bathroom walking out the door to outside where my husband stood waiting. 

Noticing my husband, another smile lit up her face, "You are the luckiest man in the world to have such a beautiful, amazing wife!" she oozed with such love and affection directed toward me. She was 100% comfortable in her skin; vulnerable in such a way that I stared at her in amazement, still baffled.

No matter where we live, where we travel, or what we are doing—the Holy Spirit, the greatest gift from our Father, is within us, permeating our being. We are God's sons and daughters. Even though we do not deserve such unmerited, unconditional love, He stands with arms open wide longing to embrace each one of His children.

 

Baffling.

Was my cleaning lady an Angel from God? I don't know. Was she able to see something that most people do not take the time to notice? Again, I do not know. But this one thing I do know: I have never experienced the love of God so deeply, so intimately, or so purely as I did at my rest stop encounter.

In what appeared to be a trivial moment of stopping at a rest area somewhere on North Interstate 77, God displayed His love for me in the eyes, words, and embrace of a complete stranger.

And quite honestly, all of the questions I had been searching for answers to before this encounter suddenly didn't matter very much.

God's unmerited, unexplainable, unconditional love trumps all earthly concerns.

Stay the Course... 

sheila 

El Roi

In the 16th Chapter of the first book of the Bible, Genesis, we meet an Egyptian maidservant named Hagar.

Unlike many of the big names in the Bible, Hagar's name might go unnoticed, yet she has quite a story to tell.

Abram (later known as Abraham) had received the promise of a child from God but as an old man already, the passage of time lent to Abram and Sarai's (later known as Sarah) decision to take matters into their own hands. Sarai told Abram to lie with her maidservant so that they could build a family through her, and so he did.

When Hagar became pregnant, she grew resentful toward Sarai. 

After Sarai mistreated her, she decided to run away. I'm not sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or a sudden lack of reality that gave Hagar the boldness to run away all by herself to the middle of nowhere, but run she did.

What happens next, in my opinion, is the best part of our story. 

At a time in Hagar's life when Hagar felt completely and utterly alone, an angel of the Lord found her. I could tell you what the angel of the Lord said to Hagar, but that is not nearly as important as the fact that when Hagar had no one to turn to and nowhere to run to, God saw her.

After Hagar and the Angel of the Lord spoke with one another, Hagar gives this name to the Lord, "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me." (Genesis 16:13). 

Another name for the God who Sees me is El Roi.

This same God who saw Hagar also sees us. When we feel knocked down, alone and forgotten it's imperative that we run to God instead of running away from our circumstances. We must face the lies Satan is hurling at us head-on.

In Psalm 139 (vs. 1-12), David describes El Roi perfectly and beautifully:

"You have searched me and you know me. 
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; 
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue 
you know it completely,
O Lord.

You hem me in--behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, 
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me 
and the light become night around me," 
even the darkness will not be dark to you; 
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you."

If you are going through a season of feeling alone, forgotten, or unseen--I pray the God Who Sees will speak to your heart and flood you with the knowledge of His presence. 

Whether on the far side of the sea or in the depths He will never leave you nor forsake you.

The God Who Sees hears our prayers, comforts our spirits, and draws us gently into His loving embrace. 

His love never fails.

Stay the Course...

Sheila 

His Grace Is Sufficient

I used to be known as a die-hard New Year’s Goal Chic. I drove my friends crazy asking them what their 1 year, 3 year and 5- year goals were. Suffice it to say, we didn’t get invited to many New Year’s Eve parties!

Thankfully, somewhere in the midst of checking off goals and striving toward dreams, REAL life happened.

I will admit that it has taken a lot of years and many dark nights of the soul to recognize that God’s greatest gifts are best unwrapped in the solitude and darkness found in the valley.

More recently I spent some time in a dark valley of physical sickness. After several nights of no sleep, I became angry at my inability to feel productive. I finally realized that God needed my attention. Not for His benefit; but for mine.

“What do I need to learn that I’m clearly missing?!” I whispered angrily to Him after another long miserable night of no sleep (the sleep-deprived me is not the best version of me!). I was at the end of myself. He had my full attention.

Reflecting on my life, I saw the parallel of my striving to trust Him juxtaposed with my attempting to be self-sufficient. I realized that the ongoing tug-o-war between self-sufficiency and trusting Jehovah Jireh is a futile game of coming to the end of one’s self.

In II Corinthians Paul shares of his own afflictions. Afflictions which he pleaded with God three times to take away from him. He speaks about the thorn in his flesh, a messenger from Satan, sent to torment him.

God both heard and answered Paul’s prayer. God’s answer may not have been the answer Paul had hoped it would be. God said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Cor. 12:9). This verse refers to God as El Shaddai: The All-Sufficient One.

Only the Holy Spirit can repair and heal the areas of our lives that lack what is necessary to trust God fully. Our weaknesses allow Christ’s power to rest in us.

Jesus never lived a life chock full with New Year’s goals —because He did not live His life for Himself. His only goal was obedience to His Father.

Worldly goals are vain and empty. Living for oneself is not suggested ONE time as an option in the Word of God. An empowered man or woman is not one who strives to make something of his or her life because they are worth it. Rather, an empowered man or woman is one who makes nothing of his or her life. An empowered man or woman is one who recognizes his or her success lies in the knowledge that Christ’s power is most recognizable in one's weaknesses. 

It is a person who is able to recognize that everything we accomplish, every breath we spend, every gift we have been given is because of His grace and because HE and HE alone is worthy. Our only goal should be the same as Jesus—to live in obedience to the Father and do whatever HE asks us to do—for HIS glory, not our own.

So, no goals for this writer this year except to spend more time getting to know my Father and to gain a deeper understanding of His sufficient grace. A grace that annihilates the fear of failure and the need to be self-sufficient. A grace which reflects His perfect power not in spite of my weaknesses but because of my weaknesses. A grace which I am hoping will help me loosen my grip on the rope in the futile game of tug-o-war as I daily learn to trust Him more.

Oh for grace to trust Him more. 

Stay the Course...

Sheila

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Psalm 91: 1& 2 

Caged Lion

(I wrote this blog 7 years ago and remembered it again after reading Francis Chan's newest book: Letters To The Church, where he speaks about us being caged lions. I believe I am not alone in my desire to break the patterns and thinking of society, both inside and outside of the church walls, so that each person can be uninhibited in becoming the person they were created to be in Christ.)

Wildly he paces back and forth on the worn path of his confined environment. He has room to move and stretch; but no room to do what he was created to do-- run. Time has fatigued his spirit, though memories of freedom often revisit him as he restlessly slumbers.

Passers-by stop at his man-made habitat, beholding his beauty, admiring his strength and size. Although he appears to be tame and broken; he is not. He cannot conform to the small cage and tasteless food for he knows that his identity lies beyond the boundaries of his closterphobic environment.

He attempts to rest beneath the shade of a tree amidst the clamor and commotion of the crowd. Cameras flash, shouts and whistles penetrate his space. His spirit fights within to not lash out. Though caged, he is fully able to scare even the bravest onlooker. However, the full wrath of his fury cannot be unleashed. Instead, turning his slouched body against the crowd, his sad eyes drop from view.

He remembers days of past when both his legs and his spirit thundered across the rolling plains; days when he was surrounded by those who knew him intimately. Respected within his pride, freedom was the aroma that surrounded his every breath. Fully alive, fully unleashed, fully living in the potential he was created to reach.  

Dying at the jaws of an enemy would be a welcome death compared to that of his spirit dying within him. The very essence of who he was born to be slowly fades as the daily demands of his new world rape him of his identity. Although his physical needs are met, the despair and loneliness in his chest ache beyond his ability to understand. He lies listless in the afternoon sun, waiting for nothing.

I am that caged lion; sad eyes, slouched shoulders. The world closes in, suffocating my spirit, begging me to match that which I was not created to match. I pace back and forth, restless and angry. I am a foreigner in a foreign land. Sleepless nights meet me. I question my Maker as to the true purpose of my existence. He looks at me and sees me as who He created to me be; but I am unable to see past my encaged environment.

I am unable to conform to my environment, unwilling to settle for complacency, uninterested in pretension, and unbelievably restless; an angry, pacing lion.  

I pray for humility. However, I also pray for boldness and courage to stay true to my God-created identity. I will not shrink back nor cower; for I and the lion are kindred-- both created to run wildly in total abandon, leaving behind no regrets. unleashing the spirit within and breaking free from the confines of our cages.  

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote

This Is What It Feels Like

(Dedicated in loving memory to one of my greatest spiritual mentors, Mrs. Chittenden. She is rejoicing as a new member of the "Great Cloud of Witnesses" club in heaven and cheering us on to our own finish lines!)

Last night my husband and I watched a football game together. Typically the plays happen so fast that I can’t wrap my mind around what’s happening until the scenario is played back in slow motion. 

In slow motion, everything makes perfect sense.

Sometimes real life also unfolds faster than we can comprehend.

In both the good times and the tough times, life allows us to learn first hand what it feels like to live in a moment. The football player lying on the field holding his injured knee is living fully in a moment.

Watching athletes perform to their highest potentials is a thrill BECAUSE of the risk involved. At any moment, something could go right and at any moment something could go wrong. We watch as spectators for a lot of different reasons; but whatever our reasons, we remain safe on the sidelines.

Instead of wondering what it feels like to race full throttle down the field, the basketball court or the track, we safely watch with racing hearts as others live in the space of feeling every moment of an experience.  One day the question, “I wonder what it feels like?” is replaced with drive and tenacity to do whatever it takes to discover for ourselves what living fully in the moment of something amazing feels like. We discover that risk is something to be embraced and not feared.

I love sports and the dedication of athletes, but living fully in each moment that life presents can overflow into every area of our own lives regardless our athleticism or the lack thereof. Wonder what it feels like to be happily married? Serve your spouse with the endurance of an athlete—especially when no one is watching—and see what happens. Wonder what it feels like to teach a child to see past himself or herself? Become the parent who practices selfless acts of love to those people whom you encounter in your daily life.

I lived fully and simultaneously in both a sad and a wonderful moment this week when I attended a funeral for a woman who deeply impacted the lives of dozens of people. Coincidentally the lady we honored didn’t have an athletic bone in her body. Instead, she dared greatly each day, giving her life to teaching and to selflessly pouring the love of God into every student she taught for over 30 years. 

It was evident to everyone who knew her that at some point in her life she had experienced a deep encounter with God, after which time she understood her life’s purpose was to teach others about the love and kindness of God.  She was never in the spotlight, nor did she seek to be. However, in her tireless endeavor to be the voice, hands, heart and humble teacher like her Savior, not one student was missed under her watch. She was available 100% of the time for this writer. I am greatly humbled to have been mentored by such a selfless person and to have been the recipient of her patient prayers, love and kindness. 

I am learning that in the absence of mentors, teachers, parents and persons of influence, we must dare to take the initiatives to step up to the plates, grab ahold of the batons being passed down to us— and willingly share with others what has been freely given to us.

If given the gift to to watch our lives play back in slow motion, wouldn’t it be wonderful to see that in every encounter, in every circumstance, in every God-given talent and in every life we touch, all honor and glory points others to our Creator? 

In slow motion, everything makes perfect sense.

Stay the Course…

Sheila