When We Were On Fire

When We Were On Fire

By: Susan Deborah Schiller

Were you part of the great 90's Christian sub-culture characterized by "being on fire"? Lots of writers I admire are synchronizing their blogs on October 15th and sharing their 90's stories. Click here to Addie Zierman's site to read posts from some provocative storytellers!

We were on fire for the Lord and our church had doubled in size, almost to the point of needing to add an extra service. Our pastor called it "being on all 8-cyclinders" because of two things: the offerings were exceptionally high and visitors kept coming back. But something was wrong, right at the core, and I couldn't put my finger on it until one Sunday morning.

She arrived at our church one morning and my life changed … forever.

Briskly walking from room-to-room hand delivering volunteer schedules, I first noticed her standing awkwardly in the foyer. She was young – about 16 or 17-years old. I could tell by her furtive glances at all the happy, laughing couples that she felt uncomfortable… perhaps even invisible. I had seen her in church many months ago and knew from her story that her mother was an alcoholic and she lived in a trailer park known for heavy drug activity. I walked up to her and welcomed her to our church. She smiled and seemed glad someone had noticed her and was genuinely glad to talk to me. Suddenly a woman approached on my right, scowling at me and saying, "Sue, did you leave the copy machine jammed??"

On the defensive, I tried explaining that I had done my best to fix it… but a minute later another exasperated woman tapped my other shoulder exclaiming, "Sue! There are parents lined up downstairs and no one is there to take the toddlers!" Both women were extremely frustrated because if just one person or one thing didn't work, it was liking throwing a stick into the gears, and nearly the whole system grumbled to a halt. Pastor would be upset!

Running off with the distraught women I glanced back to the girl. She was again standing all alone in a sea of smartly dressed suburban church-goers, guaranteed to be invisible in her homely outfit.

That's when something snapped, and I just stopped in my tracks. It was like Time itself stood still.

Something was wrong and I didn't know what it was, but I had been praying in that church for over a year… all by myself, walking in circles in the sanctuary, and one of my constant prayers was, "God, what would it look like if you entered our church on Sunday morning?" "What kind of car would you drive?" "How would you dress?" "When you listen to our foyer conversations, what would you think or say?"

It was my constant prayer… I had learned as a young child to ask God questions and he would answer. This time he answered by sending someone to our church – a young woman – someone people called "trailer trash". And no one said hello. No one offered her a chair to sit next to them. No one invited her to dinner after church. She disappeared and never returned after that day.

"Trailer Trash", they called her.

As if it were yesterday, I remember sitting in that last row of chairs weeping through the whole service. Next to me, but with about 6 chairs in between us another woman was crying the whole service, too… the pastor's wife. Neither of us said a word to the other but we took turns passing the tissues. Shortly afterward, those of us in leadership were to hear that her husband, our pastor, was having an affair with a young woman living in their house. He wasn't the only leader involved in an affair, it turned out…  But church must go on, and on it went…. but I didn't. I tried. Even though I didn't understand much at the time, all I knew was "something was missing, something was wrong" and it had to do with the young woman who showed up at our church that Sunday morning.

I couldn't forget her. I couldn't get her out of my mind.

What if… Jesus came to our church. What clothes would he wear, what would he drive, what would he think of our conversations, and how would he respond to our sermons? What would he think of our inner thoughts and private lives? Would He perhaps show up in the form of a lonely girl? Someone people called "Trailer Trash"?

That prayer ruined me! For Jesus' words echoed back to me from a time long distant, recorded by James …

^26-27Anyone who sets himself up as "religious" by talking a good game is self-deceived. This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world. – James 1

 ^1-4If a man enters your church wearing an expensive suit, and a street person wearing rags comes in right after him, and you say to the man in the suit, "Sit here, sir; this is the best seat in the house!" and either ignore the street person or say, "Better sit here in the back row," haven't you segregated God's children and proved that you are judges who can't be trusted?  ^5-7Listen, dear friends. Isn't it clear by now that God operates quite differently? He chose the world's down-and-out as the kingdom's first citizens, with full rights and privileges. This kingdom is promised to anyone who loves God. And here you are abusing these same citizens! – James 2

And in Isaiah 1: "Quit your worship charades. I can't stand your trivial religious games: Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings— meetings, meetings, meetings—I can't stand one more! Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them! You've worn me out! I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion, while you go right on sinning. When you put on your next prayer-performance, I'll be looking the other way. No matter how long or loud or often you pray, I'll not be listening. And do you know why? Because you've been tearing people to pieces, and your hands are bloody. Go home and wash up. Clean up your act. Sweep your lives clean of your evildoings so I don't have to look at them any longer. Say no to wrong. Learn to do good. Work for justice. Help the down-and-out. Stand up for the homeless. Go to bat for the defenseless.

I chose to leave that church, only to discover that most churches are very much the same, no matter the denomination. I walked out into the wilderness but religion's grip was so tight that its claws still clutched my heart. It took losing everything to find my true self – the pearl of great price, His life in me.

I'm a prodigal daughter on the way home… enjoying the sacred dance of life!

Choosing love today,

Sue

PS To read the preceding chapter of this story, please see "Ground Zero: Church Quake".

Susan Schiller knows how it feels to lose everything: marriage and family, church and reputation, finances and businesses, and more. Susan's upcoming, interactive memoir, "On the Way Home," tells the story of how she came to be known as "the most abused woman" her counselors had yet met and how she learned to navigate her way out of hell to a rich and satisfying life. In her lifetime, Susan has served in duties ranging from home school mom – to pastor –  to full-time deliverance minister – and to Midwest regional prayer coordinator for a large international ministry. These days you can usually find Susan soaking in her favorite hot springs pool, reading a book (or several), blogging, baking bread, or hanging out with her family and friends. You can get a free copy of Susan's upcoming book, "On the Way Home" by registering here.

Copyright 2012, Susan Schiller, http://TeamFamilyOnline.com. Permission is granted to copy, forward, or distribute this article for non-commercial use only, as long as this copyright byline and bio, in totality, is maintained in all duplications, copies, and link references.  For reprint permission for any commercial use, in any form of media, please contact Susan Schiller.

Tagged as: "Love from Papa" Series, Choosing Love Today, Deborah White Dove, Getting Your Life Back, Handling Toxic Memories, Life Story Writing, PTSD - post-traumatic stress disorder, Real People Real Stories, Rewriting the Future, Voice of the Bride