Front Porch Chat Time

Autumn arrived today and it felt more like winter. Nights arrive earlier and mornings arrive at a later hour. Sitting outside is over for a while now.

The front porch is still a safe and quiet place for sitting, for seeking my Abba and waiting for the time to tell Him things I need to speak of. Today, in my mind, I have been sitting with Him on the front porch. In my lap I hold a box of “things” we need to talk about. He puts His arm around me and holds me close. Quietly, gently, with compassion and grace He tells me I can speak of it when I am ready. He reminds me that He already knows these stories but when I speak of it with Him I will see His heart in them. I need to see His heart in them because right now I cannot.

I think of a friend I spent an evening with this week whose heart is carrying deep pain as she holds observed struggles up to Abba. I have read Rene’s book and it opens up “things” I hold in my lap. Others have written stories, others have shed tears and all of them have opened up “things” I must talk with Abba about as we sit here for our “front porch” visit. But Rene’s book has opened up a lot for me and I need to talk to Him about things I cannot understand, that still hurt. One incident in particular seems to have resurfaced.

About 10 years ago I went to Australia. Some friends had been deeply wounded by a church division and although I “belonged” to the side where legalism had wounded them, I clearly heard the Spirit tell me to go, with oil and wine to pour into the wounds. I loved them, and I just wanted to be with them in this painful time. My journey took me to Sydney for a few days and then on to Melbourne where I would be meeting up with my wounded friend who lived near by. I had by passed my church in the first stop for various reason, one of them being I felt unsafe as a woman in the presence of the one man in the gathering. In a town near to Melbourne I met him at another church meeting and he was furious that I had refused to visit the “one true representation” of the church in the city! Believe me when I say it didn’t represent Jesus at all! Nevertheless in the middle of a crowd of people (all known to me) he loudly expressed his displeasure and questioned that I heard from God at all. He was quite certain a woman could never be called to be a “priest”. I bit my lip, held in the tears and physically trembled. That evening I was called to meet with three “brothers” who drove up to the hotel where I was staying and suggested that I go to the room of one of them for a discussion. I flatly refused to enter any room with them and therefore our meeting took place in a car in a dark hotel parking lot. For two hours I was grilled as I why I thought I, a woman, could think I could go against their judgment of shunning my friend. How could I think I had any spiritual authority to meet these wicked people? (Their ‘wicked’ act had been to stand up for the way Jesus would have handled the situation) When asked for my “scriptural basis” for going I felt God had called me. They scoffed at this and one replied, “Oh you THOUGHT it was God?” I was asked to repent of my wickedness or be refused communion in the morning. Being refused communion would mean that I would need to leave Australia and be shunned there and at home. As this was the worst thing – being denied communion – I relented. I had no one stand with me, no one who came to my defense, no one who dared to put their arm around me and stop the trembling. I allowed myself to be bullied into changing my plans. I never did see my friend, whom I had been asked by Abba to go and be with, and I wounded her deeply. We have since spoken of it and she knew all of it – and loves me unconditionally, she shows me Jesus in all of her communications. But I sit with it tonight and want to revisit it with Him so I can let Him place His hand upon my heart and help me understand why Rene’s book, Stumbling Toward Faith reopened this one up again. Why I feel so sick when I remember it?