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broken-heartIt was over a year ago, but some days it still feels fresh. I won’t lie, there are days when it still stings.  And there are days that I remain dumbfounded; but not ungrateful…

In view of the fact that it was all planned, how could I be?

At 11 o’clock, that cold, cold morning, I sustained a tear in my wineskin.

At first, I was shocked. It came from out of the blue and from someone quite unexpected. I can say this much; what transpired was not a rude awakening, but an eye opening experience that would yet have a full disclosure.

Allow me to explain.

Last Sunday, my husband and I went out for lunch.  We entered a popular restaurant and the “church crowd” had hit full force. People were bulldozing their way to the hostess stand, while others were grabbing vacated seats before they had a chance to turn cold.  You could cut the exasperation of those present, with a knife.  I more than noticed the tone of voice used by those receiving their beepers.  It was persistent and exceedingly demanding.  A very weighty question had been asked; “how long will I have to wait” they chimed in irritable unison…

The “church crowd” was ill-tempered, grouchy, and annoyed.

Waiting your turn is hard.

To all of this, I heard the hostess’ remark to her assistant:

“Yes, this is our church crowd”.

Oh, the little things we do…

What a fine example we set for others. What great servanthood we bring to the public arena.  Our humility, quite frankly,  is unmatched.

Our love goes undetected.  Our sincere compassion for those holding babies or parenting the toddler, is dismal at best.  That Sunday noon, it appeared that it never crossed anyone’s mind that someone else may need the chair.  Someone else may need to sit, perhaps for the first time that morning. But instead, those chairs went to no one but the “church crowd”.

This is what the public sees…


This is what we are called;  a self-centered arrogant people.

It’s in the language we use daily.  Words and self-appointed titles such as, “revelation, intercessor, apostle, prophet, spiritual papa…”

Or a catch phrase as in; “fueling our intercession”.

Then there is the idea of contending and creating cultures and environments. We “contend” for everything and create cultures of fasting, honor, and prayer, all the while leavening the environment around us.

Then there are the acronyms; F.R.O.G. P.U.S.H. W.W.J.D.

Please don’t forget the bracelets and the t-shirts…they speak our beliefs, while buffering our less than christian actions.

Now before you comment and defend your position in all of this christian language and theatrics, you must know this, I get it. I really do.

But I don’t like it.

I think it mostly creates cultures of religious cliques and spiritual clichés.

It makes me separate myself and shy away from these spiritual word toting, and attitude holding people.

You see, I can say all of this because I’ve been there and done that, and I did it a lot. I ran after it. It was important to me. It was my religion. It made me look and feel really spiritual. It gave me security in my knowledge of God. I looked good for the public.  And when I was asked to speak or teach, I was ready.

I could wow the people.

With my words, my prayers, my titles, and my catch phrases…people would sit in awe…and then, the compliments would flow…

“Oh my, I’ve never heard that before”! “I want to have a relationship with Jesus just like yours”…”I could sit and listen to you for hours”…

I thought I was in the right place with Jesus. I thought I was exactly where I was supposed to be…

And I was; but for a totally different reason.

Hence, the tear. Hence, the little things...

Jesus needed a new wineskin. He needed to mend my garment.

It was the tear that brought sight to the eyes of my heart.

And then I saw, the little things

It’s the little things, like how we stand in line. The “church crowd” at the restaurant believed they were owed something since they were christians…after all, they did just sit through an hour service, lifted their hands during worship, and hit up the altar with a prayer request. That takes a lot out of you, people. It really does…all those theatrics…and choosing the right words, and fitting into the right culture…it’s mind boggling how hard it is to wear a spiritual yoke of “Saved”.

It’s the little things, like devotions.  It’s hard to wait steadily on your feet in a line for food. After all, you just gave the biggest revelation and word of knowledge the church had heard in the last six months.  People fell all over you, and the floor as you handed out spiritual food this morning. Forget devotions; those are just the crumbs…get to the meat of the matter please, and don’t waste my time. I’ve got some glory to glory to do.

It’s the little things like personal prayer time. Geez people, I need that chair! I’m an intercessor.  I’ve been standing on the street corner praying the biggest spiritual words one can imagine all the while fasting for twenty – one days…I’m hungry and tired dang it! Personal prayer time…people need to hear what I have to pray. Who knows; I may get another follower.

So, here I am.

I am done.

I’m tired, hungry, thirsty, brainmushed, humbled, and tongue-tied in a very small circle of people…


I am stitched up and ready to go…do the Little Things

*written with a tender heart…