My Home is NOT Broken

Time for the second “truth” I came to know on New Year’s Eve 2010. 


From the time my parents divorced when I was 13, I had to live with a label: I was from a “broken home.” Words cannot express to you how much I came to hate that label.

At 14, I went to my first (and only) youth camp as a resident of the dormitory. I will grant you that I was not the easiest teenager. My favorite thing to do in any discussion, whether it was scriptural or social, was to ask, “Why?” and “On what authority do you base that?” Most of that was just my nature. I still ask those questions pretty regularly, and they have made me a better human being. To paraphrase one of my favorite plays (The Miracle Worker), “Obedience without understand is a kind of blindness, too.” For every regulation placed before me, I wanted to know WHY I was expected to obey.

One night, after we were supposed to be sleeping, I was lying there staring at the ceiling when I overheard a conversation between two of the counselors: “You really just have to excuse Alesha. She’s from a broken home, you know.” The end of my stay at that youth camp is part of family legend now and doesn’t really matter for purposes of this story, but the bottom line is that I was very deeply wounded by that conversation. They had labeled me defective, and there wasn’t much I could do to redeem myself.

When I married, I was determined that my home would NOT be broken. My family was NOT going to be defective, but as I wrote about last time, some prayers aren’t answered the way we want . . .

So, when it became clear that the traditional nuclear family was not going to be what I would have, I went looking for help at (where else?) the Christian bookstore. There were several shelves about “praying for your marriage” and “making a better marriage” and “healthy homes start with healthy marriages”… where were the books on what to do when you were on your own? I found them, though I didn’t buy them. There was one-third of a shelf (on the bottom, in the corner) dedicated to single parents. The covers depicted mostly women, looking like they were facing death, dismemberment and worse. I wanted hope. I got the message from skimming the contents: survival should be your hope. You won’t thrive. Things will be bad, terrible even. But eventually the kids will grow up and if you don’t mess it up any worse, maybe they won’t be cursed with their own broken home. That is, if they don’t follow the statistics and go to jail by age 9.

I am exaggerating, of course, but the material available WAS pretty bleak. I did finally get a good book to help (thanks Sis Mary Lynn Warren!!!!), but it was from a friend, because it had long been out of print. I didn’t want to survive. I wanted to THRIVE!!! But how to do that in a “broken home”?

I had rebuilding for a while on New Year’s Eve, and for the most part I was feeling pretty positive, but I was still wrestling with the idea of my “broken”, defective home. I HATED it. Why should my home be broken and defective? Why should my kids wear that label I had hated so much? It wasn’t fair.

And that’s when that still small voice came with the simplest answer: “Your home is NOT broken. I am there.” Wow, what a revelation! As often happens when God speaks into my spirit, I was speechless. So there came the voice again: “Go ahead. Say it, ‘My home is NOT broken.’” Again, I was dumbfounded. It couldn’t really be that simple, could it?

But yes, yes it really could. I said it quietly, sort of embarrassed. Since then, I’ve been saying a lot more loudly. Just because I’m a divorced mother does NOT MEAN MY HOME IS BROKEN. My children and I have built a very happy, loving home. We have fun. We laugh. We are very close. They aren’t statistics; they are happy, thriving children.

So why is this important? Because I think it’s time we stop accepting the lie that divorce is a death sentence for a family. It’s time to stop accepting the lie that children are doomed to failure because their parents’ marriages failed. We are not broken homes. We are families. We might look a little different, but we are NOT BROKEN.

As a child, I didn’t know what to say to those camp counselors. As an adult, I know what I might say. “I didn’t ask, ‘Why?’ because my home was broken. I asked it because I wanted to understand why I live as I do. Why I believe as I do. I needed you to give me answers, and while you didn’t, I found someone who did. And by the way, my home – the one I had with my Mom, my sister, and my grandmother – it wasn’t broken either. If you want to see the proof, look what I have become… MY HOME IS NOT BROKEN.”

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Living Another Kind of Dream

I began 2011 in Gatlinburg, Tennessee on vacation with my favorite people – my kids and my parents. Those who know me well know just how difficult 2010 was for me. It represented the death of a dream and a massive sense of failure, along with another really public betrayal. I spent most of the year thinking, “Haven’t I done this once already? Wasn’t that enough? Really, again?” But, the year was ending well, and while the rest of my family was sleeping shortly after the New Year dawned, I was up, asking the Lord about a thing or two. There were three very important truths I learned that night, and I’m ready to write about the first one.


I was 13 when my parents’ strained marriage finally unraveled completely. I was devastated on many levels, but the primary reason was because I had prayed so long and hard that God would save my family. I had begged and pleaded with God to turn my Dad around, cause him to change his life, change his mind, to MAKE him want to be part of our family again. I listened intently to every minister, read every Bible story, and I tried everything I could, from special offerings to Gideon-style fleeces. I bargained with God in my 13 year old wisdom. I promised to be a VERY good girl, if He would only save my family.

He didn’t.

From age 13 until adulthood, I was brought up by my mom, a hard-working, dedicated and wonderful single mother who gave me the best I could have needed. She worked very hard to give my sister and I every advantage, and she dedicated herself to building a happy home. We weren’t unhappy, but within myself, I knew that I wanted a REAL family, with a Dad. I wanted a Dad who would show up for my piano recitals, and my high school graduation. I wanted a Dad who would be proud of me, not from a distance, but right up close. I wanted a REAL family, not a single-parent one. I’d also taken to listening to Dr. Laura on the radio, and she was very fond of saying that you got two chances at the family relationship: the one you are born into, and the one you build. So I decided right then that I was going to build a REAL family – one that wasn’t a single-parent disappointment. And nothing would stop me or stand in my way. I was pretty convinced that my will-power alone could keep it together no matter what.

It couldn’t.

Flash-forward a whole lot of years and two divorces. The dream of a REAL family felt pretty dead. I’d tried building that twice, and both times, I just apparently wasn’t enough. Because I am an eternal optimist, staying depressed just wasn’t in my nature, so I kept putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward. Finding Nemo (Just keep swimming! Just keep swimming!) was sort of a motto and a battle cry, and I kept moving forward. I spent months rebuilding my self esteem so that I could look in the mirror and see an image of God’s child and not an image of the insults that had been thrown at me. It was a lot of hard work to find healing, but I did, and I could see myself truthfully again.

But it was that night – the very first hours of New Year’s Day – that God began to deal with me about that dead dream, the one I jokingly called a nightmare. The family I’d wanted – two parents, kids, dog, fence, me being the stay-at-home Mom who loves my babies and waits anxiously for the Dad who loves me and the kids to come through the door – was not the dream I’d gotten.

No, I don’t have the dream I wanted. I spend my days working so that we can have a place to live, food to eat, some comforts of life. Once the three of us walk through the door, there isn’t any point in waiting around. No one else is coming home. But I did get a dream. It just wasn’t the one I was expecting. Tonight, after my two mile walk with my mom, Noelle, David, and I came home, put together a puzzle, sang songs, read a story, and at the end of the story, I tucked the two most precious gifts any mother has ever received into bed. Oh yes, I am living a dream, and even if it wasn’t the one I wanted, I would not trade this life – this dream – for ANYTHING.

The Right to Be Bitter. The Power to Let Go.

My first exposure to the story of Michal, daughter of Saul, wife of David, was in a Sunday school class. I don’t remember much about the lesson, but I do remember the poster-art that was presented with the lesson. A beautiful woman, dressed in royal clothing stands at a window, watching a parade scene on the street below. A man, wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist, is center-stage, mid-leap-and-spin. But what I remember most is the expression on the beautiful woman’s face; in contrast to her beauty and the richness of her clothing and the very room she stands in, her face is contorted into a horribly ugly grimace. Truthfully, I found the picture disturbing, so disturbing that I missed the lesson. The impression I got was that Michal was an evil, wicked woman who hated David, hated God, and hated worship. It was years before I got a fuller picture of who this woman was, and who she was not.

The story of Michal and David really reads more like an epic love story than anything else. She was the daughter of the king of Israel; he was her brother’s best friend, and oh, there was that little matter of being a giant-killer and the next anointed king of Israel. She loved him, and when she heard that her father was going to give one of his daughter’s to David as a wife, she volunteered enthusiastically. She loved him. Did she know that her father, King Saul, was using her as a pawn in a political game, the ultimate goal of which was David’s death? Did she know that ultimately David would use her as a political pawn as well? There is no way to know that with certainty, but with what I know about young girls . . . no. She just loved David, and she believed that love was enough.

Must have been a grand wedding, this match of a palace favorite and beautiful King’s daughter. Like Kate Middleton and Prince William, they would have been a golden couple, but what of Saul? He saw how much God loved David. He saw how much Michal loved David, and he got scared, and he determined then and there that David had to die.

The newlyweds didn’t have long to celebrate. In a Romeo & Juliet like encounter, they are alone in their bedroom when Michal warns her beloved husband that her father the King wants him dead. He doesn’t believe it at first – after all, even Jonathan doesn’t know for sure about Saul’s plot – but she tells him urgently, you must go. If you don’t, you will die. Can you imagine those last moments? The promises – I’ll wait for you. I’ll send for you. Young and in love, Michal would have promised him everything, and David would have wanted to be her hero. They made vows, and then he climbed down the wall and was gone, and she left behind to explain.

David moved on. He was on the run for a while, eluding Saul’s henchmen at every turn. And while running, he fell in love again. Twice. Two wives for the future king, plus loads of adventure and intrigue. And where was Michal? She’d been “pawned” off again, this time to Phaltiel. Ripped away from her first love, David, she had been given to a man she had never met to be his wife. It’s a really ugly end to any love story, but . . .

Apparently, she was the kind of girl who could make the best of a bad situation. While the Bible is silent about the details of Michal’s life with Phaltiel, the emotional connection between Michal and her new husband cannot be doubted. We know that because of what happened next.

When he is approached by Abner’s representatives, David sees the benefit of a political alliance, and he also knew how to seal that political alliance – bring back wife number 1. Again, the Bible is silent in anything but cold facts. Not once is it mentioned that David “loves” Michal, only that he wants the wife he earned as a prize in battle.

Back to Bahurim, Michal’s new home. The messengers arrive, and by the royal decree of Israel’s current ruler, she must leave her life and her husband for a second time. Not at the mercy of her father the King, but at the mercy of the husband who had forgotten her. Her new husband, Phaltiel, follows the procession all the way to its destination, crying and weeping behind her. Can you imagine the feeling? The forgotten woman, watching the man who loves her weeping and walking behind her, begging her captors to return her, and then at a single sentence, he must leave, and she must take her place as one of David’s wives. Not a person with feelings. She’s like property, or at least that’s the way he’s treated her. And that’s where the bitterness begins . . .

I know how Michal feels. She got dealt a really bad hand in life – it wasn’t fair. And yet in spite of all the bad stuff, she built a pretty good life for herself. She became content in exile, and she created happiness in captivity. Then, just when she works hard enough to build herself a safe place, up shows the “man after God’s own heart” to drag her back to a place she really doesn’t want to return to, and best of all, she gets to be one of his three wives. David’s not asking for her out of love and longing, and she knows it. She’s watched love and longing follow her all the way from Bahurim, and she saw it dismissed without a thought.

And then comes that famous moment at the window. She’s dressed in the clothes of the palace. She beautiful, but she’s also incredibly alone. And seared in her memory is Phaltiel, weeping with an outstretched hand. Down below on the street? Well, there’s the one who caused it all. Leaping and dancing for the Lord as if he’d never done a thing wrong. Well, what about what he’s done to HER? To Phaltiel? Don’t they matter? How can he worship like that – how can people believe in his sincerity – when they have all seen what he did to her?

2Sa 6:16 It was so, as the ark of Yahweh came into the city of David, that Michal the daughter of Saul looked out at the window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before Yahweh; and she despised him in her heart.

I’ve read all the commentaries, and I know that conventional wisdom says that she despised worship in general, but I want to offer an alternative. My question isn’t why she’s bitter, but rather, who wouldn’t be? Can anyone really doubt the fact that Michal had every right to be BOTH angry AND bitter? I don’t. She had every right. What David did to her wasn’t fair. Her entire life was unfair. She was a human being with feelings, with a heart that had been broken many times, with dreams and ambitions that had all been beaten down to nothing. I would be angry. Wouldn’t you?

Haven’t we all been there? Life’s been unfair, but we’ve rebuilt. We’ve worked hard to make the best out of bad situations, and then, we see them. The very people that hurt us so badly, and they are prospering. Others that we admire congratulate them on their good works and good fortune, and somewhere in our minds, we say it too: “How can they congratulate him? Don’t they know what he did to me? How can he lift his hands and worship like that in church? Don’t they remember how badly he hurt me?” It’s our moment at the window, when, like Michal, we are looking down on the parade below. Then we have a choice: To be bitter, like Michal, or to let it go.

Yes, Michal had the right to be bitter, but in the end her bitterness destroyed her. Her anger boiled over, and she went on the offensive:

2Sa 6:20 Then David returned to bless his household. Michal the daughter of Saul came out to meet David, and said, How glorious was the king of Israel today, who uncovered himself today in the eyes of the handmaids of his servants, as one of the vain fellows shamelessly uncovers himself!

2Sa 6:21 David said to Michal, [It was] before Yahweh, who chose me above your father, and above all his house, to appoint me prince over the people of Yahweh, over Israel: therefore will I play before Yahweh.

2Sa 6:22 I will be yet more vile than this, and will be base in my own sight: but of the handmaids of whom you have spoken, they shall honor me.

2Sa 6:23 Michal the daughter of Saul had no child to the day of her death.

Worse than a death sentence for a woman of her time, having no children and no legacy was the worst thing that could happen to Michal. The Bible only mentions Michal once more, in connection with Rizpah. Michal had made another attempt to rebuild – she’s raised five sons not her own. They were executed by a ruler as part of a political game. Once again, Michal’s attempt to love was destroyed.

So, back to the basic statement: Michal had the right to be bitter. You probably do to. But what did bitterness do for Michal? It destroyed her. What will you do with your bitterness?

Here’s the ugly truth about bitterness: it feels good for a moment. In the moment of anger and pain, it is so incredibly satisfying to lash out and to show everyone that you were wronged. To reach for revenge is sweet, but only for a moment. The fallout of bitterness is so very costly. It costs you everything. You cannot love and be bitter. You cannot move forward and be bitter. Bitterness gets you stuck in the pain, unable to get out. Oh, my friend, you have the right to be bitter, but you have the power to let it go.

Close your eyes for a moment. Are you like Michal, standing at the window watching those who have hurt you prosper? Can you relate to that pain? I can. I know what it is to have someone treat me in a way that no human being should ever be treated and walk away with no consequences, only congratulations. I know how it feels to want to lash out and wallow in the bitterness and pain. But I have also learned that there is a better choice. Turning that pain inward makes you bitter. Turning the bitterness outward destroys you. That means there is only one place to put the pain – in His hands.

If you are like Michal, choose to give Him your pain. He will take it, and I know from experience that He will redeem your life. You have the right to be bitter, but there is a better choice. You can choose to give your pain to God and move on.

Thanksgiving is a state of mind . . .

It's been an interesting kaleidoscope of a week for me.  For those who know me, you know that dates are pretty important to me.  I count forward and backward quite a bit:  "This time last year, I was . . . "   For that reason, while I have been completely enjoying my present, as sun sets and the kids are asleep and the house becomes quiet, the old "date-counter" kicks in and I start to think about where I've been.

Four years ago . . . I was expecting a baby, I knew that something was desperately wrong in my home, and I had no idea what the future might hold.  I spent lots of time in prayer, trying in a true Rapunzel-like fashion, to weave fear and worry into faith.

Three years ago . . . I was a single mother, working really hard to bring up my two children and help them enjoy the holiday.  I was one month cancer-free and celebrating the fact that God had brought healing into my life. 

Two years ago . . . I was settling into a new life, thinking that God had come in and sealed my future.  At the same time, I felt some "cracks" around the edges and was wondering why my miracle felt a little less than perfect.  Back to the Rapunzel-like spinning . . .

Today . . . I am celebrating where I am.  I am a confident mother of two gorgeous, exceptional children who make my life beautiful and full.  While I don't know the details of the future God has planned, I KNOW that He has a definite, complete plan for my life, and I am walking confidently toward it, focusing on Him.  (The spinning finally worked.)

Over the past four years, I've taken a journey of Thanksgiving.  I've learned to life the truth of the verse:  In whatsoever state you are, be therefore content, for this is the will of God concerning your life.  Things aren't perfect.  They aren't even easy.  But I'm not alone - He's with me!  And I am thankful that He is holding my hand. 

Hurry Up and Wait . . .

So much of my life has been about waiting - seems like I attend everyone else's life -events while patiently (and okay, sometimes not so patiently) waiting for my own.  Waiting is tiresome.  It is wearying.  It will wear you down.  And it is so much a part of what we must do as Christians.  

The Bible has a long track record of people waiting.  Matter of fact, it seems to be a requirement for anyone who wants to serve Him.  First instruction:  Leave where you're comfortable.  Second instruction:  Go where you aren't comfortable.  Third instruction:  Obey.  Fourth instruction:  Wait.  A lot.  Why all the waiting?  What purpose could there possibly by?  Why not just go ahead and move forward?

This morning, I was reading in James and came across this verse:

 Be patient, therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord, Behold the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain. - James 5:7

Living for God IS like a race, but it's also a lot like growing precious fruit.  It takes time.  So often, what we want we aren't quite ready for.  What we need we wouldn't accept if it were presented to us . . . yet.  We see the early rain, and we jump - "Finally, this is the CHANCE!"  Instead of jumping, we should be waiting - for that latter rain.  It's not just the first blush of excitement and hope.  It's the promise of the fulfillment of something more:  latter rain.

While I know the overall verse is talking about the ultimate return of Christ, I think it applies to our lives and everyday situations as well:  whatever our current situation, we must "wait for the coming of the Lord."  Attempting to modify, change, fix, or otherwise alter our position without His guidance and help will result in abysmal failure.  We MUST learn to WAIT on Him. 

So, like the husbandman, we wait, we pray for the rain of His presence to wash over us, we endure until the time that he comes through.   Waiting isn't just part of living for the Lord, it is part of growing and maturing into the person He wants us to become.   So, learn the lesson so you won't have to keep repeating the class:  wait with joy.

The Revival Satan Allows

As someone who has been on a Pentecostal pew since birth or so, I've seen a lot of “revivals.” I grew up attending the church pastored by Bro. Jerry Dillon, which meant that at least two weeks out of the month, you would be attending revival services. It was a great way to live, and it taught me a thing or two about what revival really is – I lived it, saw it, and witnessed the changing power of God flow out on many lives. As a result, I think I am also familiar with what revival is NOT. There are some “revivals” that Satan won't stop – in fact he will encourage them – because they fit quite nicely within his purpose: keeping the Church as a body from reaching the lost.

“My what a service we had!”

“Did the power of God fall?”

“That was an awesome move of the Holy Ghost!”

“You weren't even IN church if you weren't at MY church last night.”

OK, so we've all said those things. And most of the time they are meant to convey that the presence of the Lord was in a service. What concerns me, however, is a growing tendency I've seen among some churches. As long as there are “good services” where “God moves” and people “feel the power”, they think everything is great in their assemblies. And yet . . . hearts are not changed, the lost are not won; outward appearances may line up, but there is no true victory in the lives of the people who are attending these regularly “powerful” services. They attended Holy Ghost blow-out after Holy Ghost hoe-down, and yet when the smallest problem came into their life, they were distraught and giving up on God. And their lives are not impacting the lives of the lost and the hurting around them. I asked myself, “What is going on?” That didn't do much good, so I asked God. And this is what I got.

Satan doesn't care about our “powerful services” . . . he doesn't care if we “shout the walls down” . . . he doesn't care if you can't see the carpet for the hairpins . . . IF those powerful services are just that. If they don't lead us to greater dedication, deeper commitment, a more burning desire to help others. If we are unchanged, if we don't impact our world, Satan is perfectly content to let us dance all over church on Sunday, because he knows that when we leave the building, it's over.

You've seen these churches. You've probably been envious when they've talked about how the power falls. Especially when you compare their experiences to your own (not a good idea, but difficult to avoid) – their lives don't experience much trouble, and yet it is a Pentecostal Power Hour every time they show up. What gives?

Simply this: it is possible to bask in the presence of the Lord, enjoy the “feel good” that His anointing allows, and leave completely and utterly unchanged. A lot of people like a church like that. They feel good while they are there, but they feel absolutely no compunction to change anything about their lives or share Jesus with others. They simply use God's presence as an anti-depressant – they get just enough of a “fix” to make it to the next service – but they don't allow the changing power of His spirit to penetrate their hearts and lives. As a result, they cannot handle difficulties, and they don't reach out to the lost.

Why would Satan object? As long as he lets them be comfortable, complacent – sleeping, really – he has little to worry about. They'll continue feeling good in church. But they won't spread the word. (Somebody might sit on their pew or, God forbid, take their solo.) They'll show up faithfully to every service. But they will leave unchanged. (That would require sacrifice and searching themselves for sins that are not quite as obvious as others.) It's a quarantined virus, in Satan's eyes, and I'm convinced he allows it, encourages it, and hopes other churches will emulate it. Gives him freedom to take the rest of the city to hell while that congregation of 30, 50, or 150 gets their “fix” and moves on to another week. And then later, when they don't expect it, he can hit them with a big problem, and it will destroy what faith they have. This kind of revival is a win-win for him.

Think I'm talking out of school? Check God's word:

²⁰ But he that received the seed into stony places, the same is he that heareth the word, and anon with joy receiveth it; ²¹ Yet hath he not root in himself, but dureth for a while: for when tribulation or persecution ariseth because of the word, by and by he is offended.

Matthew 13:20-21

    ¹² And he sighed deeply in his spirit, and saith, Why doth this generation seek after a sign? verily I say unto you, There shall no sign be given unto this generation. ^{. . .} And when Jesus knew it, he saith unto them, Why reason ye, because ye have no bread? perceive ye not yet, neither understand? have ye your heart yet hardened? ¹⁸ Having eyes, see ye not? and having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember? ¹⁹ When I brake the five loaves among five thousand, how many baskets full of fragments took ye up? They say unto him, Twelve. ²⁰ And when the seven among four thousand, how many baskets full of fragments took ye up? And they said, Seven. ²¹ And he said unto them, How is it that ye do not understand?
Mark 8:10-21

    ¹ This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. ² For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, ³ Without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, ⁴ Traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; ⁵ Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away. ⁶ For of this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts, ⁷ Ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth. ⁸ Now as Jannes and Jambres withstood Moses, so do these also resist the truth: men of corrupt minds, reprobate concerning the faith. ⁹ But they shall proceed no further: for their folly shall be manifest unto all men, as theirs also was.

II Timothy 3:1-9

 ²² But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. ²³ For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass: ²⁴ For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.

James 1: 22-24

It is vital that we understand that we must have a relationship with Christ that goes beyond feeling good, shouting, and worshiping. Those things are good; they are vital. But if you are not seeing the fruit of the spirit in your church, in your life – it's time for an inventory. You are either a weapon in the kingdom, or you have been given your pacifier (Hebrews 5:12-13). Good services where you feel the power are not enough. If souls are not being born into the kingdom, are you really fulfilling your purpose? If not, whose purpose are you fulfilling? Dangerous question, if you dare to ask it. 

Doing Time on the C-List

(This starts a little slowly, but I promise it gets to the point.) Last winter, I was in the midst of a really nasty divorce, so I packed my bags and moved myself and my kids in with my parents to recuperate. The move wasn't THAT big a deal, since it was just up the driveway, but it gave me some peace of mind. Over the course of a month or so, however, quarters started getting a little tight at mom and dad's, so I knew the time had come to go back to IT – my house. But the thought of going back into the same house looking the same way it had before, well that was more than I could bear. Suddenly, the proverbial light bulb went off: I could sell the furniture. But how? Craigslist, of course. I had heard a lot about it. No time like the present to give it a try.

(Stay with me. I promise we are getting there.) So, I wrote up my ad, complete with the heading “Divorce Sale Extravaganza”, and started posting everything that wasn't nailed down. Over three weekends, I sold the entire contents of my 4 bedroom house AND refurnished it. All on Craigslist! But that isn't why I'm writing. The truth is that I learned a whole lot about what I HADN'T been doing to reach the lost from my time on the C-list. And THAT'S why I'm writing here.

First Things First: Being open wins people over.

Simply put, my divorce was an excrutiatingly public experience that brought me to depths of humiliation I had never previously fathomed. By the time I was blithely listing my furniture for sale, I figured I had nothing to lose by telling the three people in the entire county who hadn't heard about the whole thing. So, I put it right out there. “If you are wondering why I am offering this fabulous deal, it's because I'm in the middle of a divorce. My loss can literally be your gain.” What happened in return? People were really open with me. Suddenly, their guard was down. If this total stranger was throwing her life out there, what could they possibly have to lose? Mark and Lisa arrived to pick up my sofa and began to tell me that they were hoping to get married that weekend. Lisa had a two year old daughter, and Mark was stepping in to be a “dad.” Before they left, Lisa pulled me to the side and said, “I can tell you are one of those, oh you know, religious people. Can you pray for me? I want to build the right kind of home for my baby, but I don't know how.”

Second Helpings: Listen, and listen actively.

People are aching for an opportunity to open up. Tanya called me about a couple of bedroom sets. Mine were priced right. She had recently separated from her husband and was starting over from scratch. Could I hold them until the weekend? She and her dad arrived on Saturday morning, and while her Dad and mine took the beds apart and loaded the truck, she just looked like she had something to say, so I asked a few questions. And Tanya began to cry, revealing a story of being abandoned and betrayed. I shared a little of my story, and she looked at me stunned, “Your story is probably worse than mine. And you are standing here smiling at me, comforting ME. I ought to be comforting you. What's the secret? How can you SMILE?” It felt so much like a made-for-tv moment that I almost looked for cameras. Instead, I shared the gospel. Tanya is a hungry soul, and I'm determined to show her where real strength comes from – Christ.

Three Strikes and You're Out: My One Negative Experience.

One afternoon a young apostolic couple showed up to buy my monstrous dining room set. I was pretty excited when I saw them – people of like faith! I greeted them enthusiastically, asking where they were from and making a few “churchy” comments that we apostolics like to exchange. They shut me down pretty quickly. My elbows were showing (egads!), and since I was in the middle of a D-vorce, we were clearly not of like faith. Wasn't much to say but, “ok”. They took the table, but only after trying to get me to discount it into regions unheard of and convincing me that they were completely incapable of humor on any level. (Ever heard the phrase, “His face would crack if he smiled”? It would fit these two.) Lesson learned – Be aware of how you present yourself. If I ran into this couple, I definitely wouldn't want what they had. It looked more like a disease than the Holy Ghost.

Go Fourth: Washing Machines and Sharing the Good News.

Corinne called me at 10:18 pm on a Tuesday night. She started by apologizing profusely for calling so late, but she didn't want to chance missing out on the washer and dryer I had listed. See, her son was in desperate need and this looked like a good set they could afford. I said that the call wasn't any trouble and asked if she had any questions about the set. She didn't, but it turned out she needed to talk. She told me about the bad luck that seemed to follow her son around, about how he was starting over with his kids, and how she felt so inadequate to help him. Well, I saw an opening I couldn't resist. I shared my story, and how God was helping ME. With Him, it did get better and joy came again. Corinne started crying. Her grandma had that kind of faith, but she went to the crazy church where people swung from chandeliers and such. Most of the family thought Granny was a little crazy, but they knew to call her for prayer. I told Corinne that while no one has swung from our chandelier lately, I attend one of those “crazy” churches, and I'd be more than happy to pray for her family.

She showed up a few days later to pick up the washer and dryer, and with a bunch of questions about what her Granny used to tell her. I've got answers, and she asked for my number. I'm hoping that will be a Home Bible Study in the making.

Fifth Wheels – What's the point?

I've barely scratched the surface of my Craigslist encounters, but do you see the trend? It's simple – once I started reaching out, I found hungry people searching for answers. As apostolics, we have become so wound up in our culture that we have forgotten the words of the Great Commission.

It is, “Go ye, therefore . . .”, not “If you build it, they will come.”

We aren't going. We are passing out flyers. We aren't listening. We are talking about our “great services” where the “power of God moves.” Those words are fine, but someone who is lost has no idea what that means. If we are going to reach this world, we must be bold. We must be open. We must allow ourselves to be vulnerable. And we must go to where they are. Even if that is Craigslist . . . now, I must return to the storage shed. There's some more stuff out there that I think I can sell.