Ground Zero: Church Quake

Ground Zero: Church Quake 1

Previous Chapter: Predators in the Pulpit

By: Susan Schiller

"This is your crucifixion. Just die," said my pastor, to me…

My body was seated at my cubbyhole in the outer church office but inwardly my spirit was lying on a bloody battlefield. My spiritual eyes were peering up through the smoky haze of bombs recently detonated. The sting of a thousand poisoned arrows burned through my muscles. I could not seem to get up.

"I did what you asked me to do. I completed my assignment on time. You said it was just what you wanted," I whispered, my soul shattered in disbelief at this betrayal.

"You know, Sue, I have benefits to consider here. My daughter's braces just got approved by the church board. I've got my salary and my family, to think of. Mr. and Mrs. ____ carry the clout here. They said if we didn't change direction there would be 60 people leaving the church along with them. Just their tithes alone carry half our budget. Someone has to take the Fall. That's you. It's your crucifixion."

The church vision stored in documents on my Toshiba laptop didn't mean very much to me at that moment. It had been months of intensive, prayerful labor… all down the drain. My pastor had guided me and supported me in that work, but it didn't matter anymore.

What mattered in that instant of time was getting up off the ground. I needed a hand, maybe a stretcher. My physical body quivered and shook, seated in my office swivel chair. But my spiritual body was seriously bleeding and it couldn't get up.

The pastor left me, closing the door behind him. My body mechanically closed my laptop and went to my beloved sanctuary… the church auditorium. It was the place I had cried out to God for so many months. With windows facing three directions, I could see hundreds of people driving by our church, situated on the busiest corner in the county. It seemed I could feel their tension, anxieties, and fears, and I wanted so very much to provide a safe haven.

Some days I was full of questions, in God's presence. Like, "What would You think of our church if You showed up in our foyer this Sunday?" "What kind of car would You drive?" "Would You be happy with our conversations?" "How would You dress?" And more… a lot more questions.

Other days I would just weep, wetting the carpet with tears, and I didn't even know what the tears were about.

My favorite place was praying in the sanctuary, before everyone arrived and after the last person had left. I loved praying for people. I loved the quiet and peace of just being in God's presence. I loved playing worship music over the sound system and dancing, just me and God.

My pastor had entrusted me with just about everything that year, it seemed. And it was all successful, I was told. Pastor said I had brought the church up to running on all eight cylinders. Church growth was at least 50% higher that year, and the offerings were the most lucrative we had ever seen.That was the main criteria how we measured success, in those days: attendence and offerings.

What I didn't know then, was that it was just business-as-usual. And God wasn't happy. He was on His way to visit us, and it was to be a turning point in my life.

Behind closed doors, Pastor B was usually upset with his congregation. I was the one he unloaded on, and his words still ring loudly in my ears. The K___ family, for example, were about to take in two foster children. They had already adopted two children.

Pastor B was livid! He had been adamant with this family, that he felt they should limit their household to no more than two children, three at the most. But they were disobedient and Pastor B was in a rage. He kept complaining that this had been one of our most productive families, and now they were going to be tied down with family concerns.

Next on his hit list was B's new bride. He was recently married and his new bride was in a difficult pregnancy. The doctor advised her to rest and do no lifting. She called me to request time off of the nursery worker rotation because she could not lift babies anymore. As a mom of three little ones, I automatically said, "Of course!" and Pastor B's anger was now directed at me, in full force. I was getting the scolding of a lifetime for taking it upon myself to excuse Sister R from nursery duty.

Irritated, Pastor B explained to me the intricacies of keeping everyone in order. He said it was equivalent to keeping a machine running on 8-cylinders instead of 4-cylinders. If I wasn't careful we'd all be back down to 4-cylinders.

I did my best to follow his instructions, but usually I just took on a lot of everyone else's loads and did their jobs, myself. I was working 60-80 hours a week at church.

I felt sorry for them. I tried to be the shock absorber, so no one would get in trouble. It takes a lot of volunteer labor to keep 8-cylinders running in a program-driven church.

My eyes were opening to the mess we had made of church, even though outwardly our "success" level was hitting the roof. I kept thinking, "Something is wrong, right in the core of how we do church, but I can't put my finger on it!"

But something did happen that day, and our church was about to be visited by someone that reminded me of why I was there in the first place. True religion is something that usually happens off-stage… it often goes unseen and unnoticed. With the arrival of this person, my first love was restored to me.

God stepped into the church foyer, for real. You can read that story by clicking here: "The Love Test". My life was never the same, once I saw HIM enter our church that one Sunday morning.

Have you ever had a "truth encounter" between traditional religion and true religion?

By the way, this is one chapter in my own life story – it's a true story. I welcome comments below… you can be anonymous, if you wish, but I'd love to hear what's happening in YOUR life story!

Further resources:

Why the Christian Abuser is the Worst Kind

With all my love,

Sue

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 pre-order a free copy of Susan’s upcoming book, “On the Way Home” by registering here.

Copyright 2014, Susan Schiller, http://TeamFamilyOnline.com.  For reprint permission for any private or commercial use, in any form of media, please contact Susan Schiller.

Tagged as: Choosing Love Today, Deborah White Dove, Getting Your Life Back, On the Way Home, Real People Real Stories, Rewriting the Future, True Religion Speaks, Unbuckle Your Christianity, Voice of the Bride, Writing a Life Story