A Work In Progress


Greetings! It's Sunday morning and I made a "conscious decision" not to go to church. I'm sitting here at home and I'm mulling over the significance of the church. I've been a regular attender and have attended one church in particular now for a little over a two year period. I'm right now at a bit of a stand still. I'm contemplating withdrawing, for a period of time, from church. This, not for any reason in particular, it just seems "right now" to be the right thing to do. Yes church is a place of congregating, as the bible instructs us , "Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the matter of some is..." (Hebrews 10: 25-King James Version). Note, although we are encouraged to gather as "brethren" (brothers and sisters in Christ), there is no mention here of the "church building" itself. The same passage, however, in the Living Bible, a paraprased edition of the King James, reads: "Let us not neglect our church meetings, as some people do..." This verse comletes by saying, "but encourage and warn each other, especially now that the day of his coming back again is drawing near."

I'm a man of sobriety now, "By the Grace of God!", for over five years; totally drug and alcohol free- each day just keeps getting better! As I've sometimes reflected on my sobriety and how it came about, much of the work happened away from the church. The reason you might ask? In a lot of my earlier "church experiences" I left each time more broken than I was when I went in! This, not only from sermons that had me feeling greater hopelessness because "I couldn't live up to that standard"; but, also from "well intentioned ministers" who, while I acknowledge that they too are only human, pushed to shape me into a man after "their own image". Other sermons of hell, fire, and brimstone, didn't serve to heal too well the pain that I knew was inside me. I needed to experience love.

I'm not a perfect man by any means. I still say and do things I shouldn't say and do; just ask my wife, she'll tell you everything, truthfully. She, in a moment of conflict said to me, "If you're an example of what a christian is like, then I don't want to set foot in a church again." She's right! Not to excuse my behaviour, but, I hold no shame in this because I know that I'm a work in progress.

Philippians 1:6 says, "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." The living bible puts it this way: " And I am sure that God who began the good work within you will keep right on helping you grow in his grace until his task within you is finally finished on that day, when Jesus Christ returns." In light of my many short comings, defects of character... sin, I am encouraged: I am a work in progress and God's word is final! The bible does state that all have sinned and come short of the Glory of God (Romans 3:23); understand, this is not a ticket to sin, or, in your christian walk, to go on sinning. James 4:8,9 states: "Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded." Further more, as works in progress, we are called to holiness (I Peter 1: 13-16). I know that all these things that yet so heavily plaque me, just like my drug and alcohol addictions had, will too, soon be gone! As for those of us who think we're better than the next, remember Christ's words, John 8:7: "He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone..." Verse 9 tells us, "And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one..." The stones all of a sudden became too heavy to lift, and, too heavy to throw! I am so thankful that I'm a work in progress. I am going to make it!

As for the church building itself, the "Temple" of God, I reflect on three bibles which were given to me. The first, The Living Bible, Paraphrased. This was given to me by my sister Sharon and her family, and dated February 17, 1982. The second, The Holy Bible, King James Version. This was given to me by my sister Addie and her family, and dated February 19, 1982. It wasn't until I moved to Vancouver that these bibles would take on a deeper meaning. At a prayer meeting, an outreach program for this particular church I was now attending, I would be blessed with a third bible; The Holy Bible, New International Version. This was given to me by my niece Zelda, and was dated February 18, 1988.

The perfect, chronological order of these dates did not occur to me immediately. One afternoon I decided to do some reading- I grabbed all three bibles, opened up the front cover of each, and was amazed to see the exact alignment of all three dates: February 17, 18, 19. The third date, the 18th, coming six years after the first two. I sat thinking this is too real to be a coincidence, knowing that the Lord does not toy with, or tease, HIs children.

The anxious, energetic, ambitious, (obnoxious?) young christian that I was, I began to get all spiritual! I thought, "It's time to fast and pray! I have to find out what this all means!" "I have to read more, pray more, go to church, fellowship! If I want my answer, I really have to watch how I live!" "HELLO!!! HAVE YOU NOT HEARD ABOUT GRACE?!" There's nothing that I could have done to ensure that I would have gotten the answer! In the wisdom of my brother Steven, most recently (pertaining to the number 222), "Be patient. God will reveal it to you in his time!"

I fasted- I just ended up stuffing my face! I prayed- and began to think how repulsed God must be by my vain repetitions! I fellowshipped, but the answer did not "pop" out of the mouth of anyone around me in this "great prophecy". I gave up! In the least...I could still read. Which is what I decided to do, this beautiful, April morning, some two years later (I'm glad that I didn't continue fasting. Over this period of time, I surely would have been a bone rack by now!)

Just as in the days of my youth, when I would awaken with my father at 5:30 in the morning, together to do morning devotions- I awoke, and felt this compelling need to read and pray. I went to the corner table stand and grabbed my living bible. Sitting next to the window, I placed it open faced on the table before me. I looked up and stared at the sun for awhile; It was such a gorgeous, April morning. I began to read, and there it was, flashing right in my face, the date: February 18. It was the completion date of the rebuilding of God's Holy Temple in Jerusalem.

King Darius had issued a decree concerning the rebuilding of the temple, (Ezra-Chpt 6). Verses 13-15 in the living bible state, "Governor Tattenai, Shethar-bozenai, and their companions complied at once with the command of King Darius. So the Jewish leaders continued in their work, and they were greatly encouraged by the preaching of the prophets Haggai and Zechariah (son of Iddo). The temple was finally finished, as had been commanded by God and decreed by Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes, the kings of Persia. The completion date was February 18 in the sixth year of the reign of King Darius.

I was in awe, inspired, and hopeful! Compassion ran through me like a hot knife through butter. Finally, the significance of February 18. Thinking on the "Temple" I was lead to the book of Corinthians.

I Corinthians 3: 16,17 states: "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth within you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are." I knew God was speaking to me about my body, his temple; my life, the brokeness of it, and the necessity for healing. As I imagined the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, I began to think about the destructions of my life; all of the heart-ache, pain, sorrow, and grief. The realities of the brokeness of my existence was set on a platter before me, I could no longer deny these.

My hurt began to surface. I sought God with greater devotion, commitment, sincerity, and desire. There were more quiet times. If He was showing me my pain, I knew that He wanted it; but first, I had to go through it. Serenity enveloped me as I thought somemore on the completion of God's Temple. Finally, a chance at "wholeness". I was overwhelmed by God and his exactness. I didn't know for sure what was going to happen, all I knew is that I was crying more. I began to experience the places of Psalms 51: 17: "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." Feeling my pain was o.k., as long as it was in God's hands.

I continued to go to church, to fellowship, and to fast. I continued to read. This time, the experience was different than before...something was happening.

Greater sadness filled me as I had no choice now but to face head on, the greater truths of my life. I was sad, hurt, lonely, angry, and broken. I felt now more than ever, the death of my mother when I was six. The severe, merciless beating I took at the hands of my father, shortly after her death. I began to feel again the loneliness of separation from family...to the terror, torture, isolation, and pain, of the residential school. So much for a six year old to endure; followed, and punctuated by, my father's death when I was ten. I began to experience again the years of abondonment, hunger, and the cold. The enescapable yearning for my mother's loving touch. Sleeping under other people's houses, or the church next door, for fear of going home only to be beaten. Stealing food out of other people's porches so that I could feed my brother and myself; taking blankets from their clothe-lines so that we could stay warm in the night. So much heartache, so much pain...too much for one soul to carry.

This, although I didn't know it back then, would be a perfect, platter of sacrifice, to a loving, kind, generous, and compassionate God. I continue in my healing journey today. Gradually, I am becoming whole and my temple is being restored.

As for all of these "things" that I'd only used to deal with by drinking and drugging, I now had to find a more profitable way. Hospital visits, suicidal tendencies, and encounters with the police were signs enough to tell me that something was terribly wrong. Self-destructive behaviours, and at times self -mutilating behaviours...were strong indications that I needed help. The pain hurt so much; the natural course seemed to be to increase the pain.

I needed a place where I could sometimes swear, and be angry, even violently, and not be judged. I needed a place that I could sometimes shout, rant, and rave, and not be condemned for my actions. I needed a place to cry, sometimes uncontrollably, and not to feel shame. The church could not do this for me. Sad to say, in those more important years, it just compounded my pain. I walked away knowing that if God cared enough to send me the dates in my bibles, and speak to me about inner-healing, he cared enough to heal me regardless of where this healing would take place. In a church, or somewhere else. He would still be God and the one doing the healing. The cuts ran deep and the healing would not occur over night. It took years to accumulate, it may take years to unravel.

As to the question of attending church, I am glad that I made my way back. Church is a good place to be. For the time being, however, I think "I'll just be still and know that He is God." To make time to work on my manuscript I started three years ago; I have a story to share, and I believe someone out there needs to hear it.

Take-care, and may the Lord richly bless.

Sincerely, Godwin H. Barton
- posted by Free2write @ 5:18 PM