Interactions with God #35

I don’t blow of Church.  Now, I am not saying I won’t miss church because I am sick, or one of my family was sick, no.  I am talking about that “well, its Sunday morning, I could just sleep in” thing.   Church is important. So much so, that it is written to not forsake meeting together (Church) in Hebrews 10:25.  I take very seriously all that is written in that book.  Anyone who is of Christ should as well.  If it wasn’t important to God, it wouldn’t be in there.  I have gone to church on a weekly basis, since the beginning of my walk with God in 1984.   I have even gone when the Pastor and/or the people going there hated me and sadly, it has been like that quite a few times.

“Hated? Bit of a strong word is it not?” Yes, hated.  But, I will get into that later.  Today however, I will talk only briefly of the first hateful pastor I have had.   I don’t consider Ray Mayer or Charles Taylor hateful.  They were just deceived jerks.  No, they were not hateful toward me.  This guy was and I never knew why. 

I am now living at my parents’ home in Hudson, NH.  I had been there only a few days when I knew I had to find a church to become part of.   We need to become part of a group of Christians.  For both our growth and theirs.  Like any body part, if the part is removed from the rest of the body, it dies.  However, the body also suffers because it lost that part.  It works the same way when we are not connected to a Church.  Sorry, I know people say it all the time, “I worship God in the woods” or “I worship God at home”, but they are wrong.  If you WORSHIP God, you have to do it HIS way.  He wants us all to gather together…even more as we approach the time of His return.

So, in light of that truth, I made a few calls to find out what the Church options in the area were like.  I only got one phone call where someone actually answered the phone.  That was a good sign to me.  The things they believed were biblical.  There was nothing “off” that stuck out in that first conversation.  The woman seemed really nice.  She was.  It turned out that she was the Pastor’s wife.  It also turned out that the phone generally went to VM, she just “happened” to be in the office at the moment I called.  They didn’t have their own building, as they were a rather small group at that time.  They were meeting on Sunday evening in an old Methodist Church building that they rented.  I decided to go to that Church.

Within a week or so, I was invited to meet with the pastor.  His name was Paul.  Paul was ex-Air Force.  Not that that matters generally, but sometimes ex-military and I don’t seem to click.  I am ADHD.  No surprise to anyone who knows me.  I was ADHD before it was cool.  Personally I don’t believe it is a disorder, it is just the way some people are.  Well, the term works to describe my personality somewhat.  I can be a spaz.  People like me can grate on some of those who have a military disciplined mindset.  Yes, to them I probably seem like walking chaos.  To me, chaos is fun, unfortunately to them, they generally want to punch me in the face.  Not fun.

The meeting started off OK.  He asked a few questions about me and where I was from.  Well, I am also half-Italian.  If you ask me how I am, I WILL tell you and when I do, my hands will go into motion for added emphasis.  Yea, chaos.  I began to talk about my past from getting saved to the problems with Pastor Taylor.  I don’t remember how far I had gotten, but Paul cut me off somewhere in the middle of what I had intended to say. 

Keep in mind.  I was hurting.  I really just needed to tell someone, a “Man of God” someone, what had happened. I NEEDED someone to just listen and tell me, no, reassure me, that God had not forsaken me.  Yes, I know, He had given me that thing from my mom, but I wanted more… Unfortunately, that is not what I got.  Immediately, after he cut me off, Pastor Paul began to rebuke demons in the room.  “OH NO!”  I thought.  “Here we go again!”   I didn’t say anything more and Paul quickly ended the meeting, clearly uncomfortable with my presence there. 

I went home overwhelmed.  No, OVERWHELMED!  I sat in my parent’s living room for a minute and cried.  No one was home, just me and God.  Then what happened next, I am not proud of.  I was not as good as Job.  I am not sure if I was even as good as Judas.  I lost it.  I stood up and started to scream at God.  Yes, scream.  I used curse words.  Foul words.  I even got to a place where I was making up foul words and names to call Him.  I was hurt.  How much more crap would He dump on me?! 

This went on for a while.  If I remember correctly, it was at least an hour.  Then I just stopped.  Nothing happened.  No rebuke, no angel smiting, no smack to Pluto…nothing.  I pulled myself together and then just went about the rest of my day. 

As the day went on, I could feel the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit of God, approach me.  The best way for me to describe the feeling was like someone coming up to you and tugging on your shirt sleeve.  Each time I felt Him, I spoke out loud…”Shut up, leave me alone!”  Yes, I did.  I should have been killed on the spot.  He had done so, for much less throughout the book.  But He didn’t. 

Late that night, I finally went to bed.  While lying there in the dark, looking up at the ceiling, He approached me again.  It was a little different this time.  It was more like someone apologetically snuggling up next to you.  I didn’t get mad.  No, I simply said “I am sorry, I know it is not your fault” His reply did more to make me fall in love with Him than anything I have yet experienced even to this day. 

He said “I forgave you while you were yelling.”