Category Archives: Testimonies

The Demoralizing Effect of Social Welfare

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Transport boats taking cruisers to Belize.

Transport boats taking cruisers to Belize.

I looked over the balcony to watch people boarding transport boats to Belize. A large barrier reef prevented the cruise ship from docking at the pier. My husband and I donned our exercise clothes and sprayed each other with bug repellent in preparation for a bicycle ride through the jungle.

Getting to the Bacab tourist resort was a journey. We boarded the transport boat for a high speed ride to the pier. At the pier, we caught a bus for a 40 minute drive to the resort. During the ride,  a tourist guide told us about the country and answered questions. I learned that Belize was predominately Catholic, but the Jehovah Witness has surpassed them in adherents. I saw a Protestant church, but apparently their numbers were too small to include in the conversation.

More memorable than the prowess of the Jehovah Witness was the reaction on the bus when we learned about the welfare system in Belize. “Belize has no welfare. If you don’t work you don’t eat. If you don’t have a job, you make a job,” said the tour guide. Then she smiled and asked if we wanted her to run for President of the United States. The bus erupted in cheers and applause.

I had witnessed the bitterness communist ideas of equality, the kind being forced on America today, create while checking out at the grocery store before we left on vacation. A well-dressed woman with cell phone in front of me had paid with food stamps. As the cashier scanned my items she mumbled, “I should quit work and go on welfare. She dresses better than I do.” But I was surprised by the strong reaction on a bus in a foreign country. I doubt anyone is against helping the poor if they are truly poor and unable to work. Unfortunately, there are people who take advantage of the system. People who work resent having their hard earned money taken to support those who refuse to work because welfare is easier.

My husband bicycling through the jungle.

My husband bicycling through the jungle.

The bike ride through the jungle was harder than anticipated. I read in one of the shore excursion reviews the bicycle path was worn and easy to travel. To the contrary, the path was filled with rocks and tree roots. To make matters worse, it had rained the day before we arrived making the path slick with mud. The woman in front of me wiped out on a tree root and was greeted with a mud bath. I smiled as I rode by, “You’d pay a lot of money for that mud bath in the ships spa.” She laughed in agreement.

We returned to the ranch for a lunch of beans, chicken, and I think fried banana. I bought a coke when the waitress assured me it was made locally with brown sugar. The coke was exceptionally sweet. We retreated to the pool for a short snooze in a hammock, and then went to the butterfly house.

The ants arrived the day before we did and decimated all the butterflies except the brown and not so beautiful Owl butterflies. The curator, adorned in a Saints shirt, held the wings open to show us the owl face on the wings, and talked about his plans for the house. He was a student of entomology at a college in New Orleans.

Later that evening, we decided to try a different restaurant on the cruise ship for dinner. The waitress seated us next to a young couple from Oklahoma. We chatted while waiting for our entrees to arrive. He had a good job at a factory, but his wife’s college bill was straining their finances. She aspired to be a teacher, but the pay was low and there were no jobs to be found compounding the financial difficulties. After a moment of silence, he husband said, “We never should have gotten married.” I held my breath for a marriage spat, but she nodded in agreement. They were bitter that their unmarried friends, who made less money, were getting free rides through college. They did not qualify for assistance because he had a decent paying job.

The social welfare programs in America may help some people, but they are also creating a disgruntled middle class that resent the unfair advantages given to others. Instead of teaching people to earn what they need, it encourages them to reduce their income so they can have the same advantages others are receiving.

I leave you with God’s method of helping the poor.

Leviticus 19:15

15 “‘Do not pervert justice; do not show partiality to the poor or favoritism to the great, but judge your neighbor fairly. NIV

Leviticus 23:22

22 “‘When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and the alien. NIV

Leviticus 25:35-38

35 “‘If one of your countrymen becomes poor and is unable to support himself among you, help him as you would an alien or a temporary resident, so he can continue to live among you. 36 Do not take interest of any kind from him, but fear your God, so that your countryman may continue to live among you. 37 You must not lend him money at interest or sell him food at a profit. NIV

Deuteronomy 15:7-8

7 If there is a poor man among your brothers in any of the towns of the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not be hardhearted or tightfisted toward your poor brother. 8 Rather be openhanded and freely lend him whatever he needs. NIV

Deuteronomy 24:14-15

Do not take advantage of a hired man who is poor and needy, whether he is a brother Israelite or an alien living in one of your towns. 15 Pay him his wages each day before sunset, because he is poor and is counting on it. Otherwise he may cry to the Lord against you, and you will be guilty of sin. NIV

A God Send

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??????????????????????????Before I left for vacation, I had an unfortunate exchange with a minister. He had a need to find something wrong with me that he could heal. His first attempt resulted in an acknowledgement that he was wrong about me, but he could not leave his quest to “heal me” alone. During this time, I encountered four people from four different churches, who unloaded their frustration with the condescending way they are addressed by ministers and the marginal way they are treated. Cleary, I was not alone.

This minister continued to pick at my life until I had enough. He was not the first minister I’ve encountered who thought God had appointed him to heal me. Those ministers shipwrecked their ministry. Rather than cut him off without explanation, as is the practice among many in ministry, I like to lay everything on the table to guarantee I understood his or her true intentions.

I sent an email explaining how I felt about his quest that also addressed the frustrations of the other Christians. I pointed out that this is not an isolated problem between me and him, but a problem in Christianity. His condescending response left me one option. Remove him from my circle of close friends.

Many years ago, a friend told me the painful truth about my personality. I prayed for the truth. God confirmed the truth by surfacing a multitude of memories that proved my friend was right. Therefore, it’s not my habit to dismiss the assessment of others about me simply because it’s negative. Once again, I asked God for the truth. This time memories failed to surface. Instead, I received a complimentary copy of Charisma Magazine, which I tossed in my suitcase for reading material while lying on the deck of the cruise ship.

Our son brought us to the cruise terminal. We unloaded our luggage and almost didn’t make it on the ship. My husband did not note the difference between “and” and “or”. He marked that he had a fever and a runny nose. The agent quickly dismissed herself with the promise she would be back shortly. I glanced down at the paper. “You don’t have a fever.”

“I have a runny nose.”

“From allergies, there is a difference between “fever and” and “fever or”. By this time, the agent had returned with her supervisor, whom we convinced my husband had misread the question. “No fever, just allergies.” She waved us through.

We ate, explored the ship and found a place in the atrium behind four ladies from Wyoming to watch the Super Bowl on the big screen. An elderly couple from Tennessee sat next to us and bemoaned the $200 they paid to park their car – one of the perks of sailing on Super Bowl Sunday from the host city. A young man from Florida asked if the seats next to us were empty. They were. An inebriated woman from the Wyoming party offered him free beer if he promised to explain the football game. He was reluctant to accept the expensive gift, $8 per beer. “Don’t worry I got lots of money,” slurred the woman. Cruising is so much fun.

Half way through the game my husband and I left for the ships theater, and the “Welcome Aboard” show. We sat behind a couple who had been married 73 years. They won several gifts for being the oldest cruisers. When the master of ceremonies asked the couple how they stayed married that long, he said, “Find a good one.” His wife said, “Have fun.” After the show, the mini burgers, chips, hotdogs and chicken wings we ate during the Super Bowl game negated a reason for dinner.  We retired to our room to watch the last 10 minutes of the Super Bowl, and I picked up my magazine to read.

The February 2013 issue of Charisma was a God send that addressed my recent prayer. The title of The Strang Report, written by the magazine’s founder, caught my attention: The Real Church Crisis: As more believers grow disillusioned with church in America, our leaders must wake up to the real issues.

In the article, Mr. Strang addresses the “leadership situation” within the Charismatic community. His first point: “Anointing is more important than academics.” The minister I removed from my close circle of friends was obsessed with academics. Strang addressed sloppy theology and the marginalization of successful people with strong personalities. He concluded church leaders need accountability and true relationship, which produces a spirit of humility and servant hood rather than an “I’m the bishop, serve me” mentality.

I am not the only one who sees a problem in the church. There are many ministers in the church who are unapproachable and uncorrectable. They think they have all the answers and God has appointed them to heal the rest of us. They are the ones creating the “Real Church Crisis”.

“I don’t believe that you are not offended or hurt. You ran for sympathy to people who agree with you, but you will be back,” was the last thing the minister I severed relationship with said to me.

I hope he doesn’t wait too long. I won’t be back.

A Nice Place to Retire

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Island of Roatan

Island of Roatan

Exhausted from a long day in the sun, bicycling through the jungle and too much to eat for dinner, I retired to my cabin to read. The title of this book had arrested my attention – Accidental Pharisees: Avoiding Pride, Exclusivity, and The Other Dangers by Larry Osborne. All my Christian life, I’ve watched ministers destroy their ministries, sometimes themselves as they pursued their calling. Instead of producing respect for the body of Christ, they cloaked us with shame.

Accidental Pharisees are good people who get lost in the sense of privilege that comes from the adulation of immature Christians. Their pride and exclusivity stunts the growth of the church and inhibits the gifts of others. Instead of hurling accusations and condemnation at his peers, Osborne dealt with the sensitive subject with such wisdom I found myself wishing, I could move to California and attend his church.

My husband and I fell asleep discussing the possibility of relocating and the unbreakable chain binding me to New Orleans – my children and friends. The fact that a minister of that caliber found roots in the most liberal California gave me hope the spiritual climate of my city could change too. If not California might be a nice place to retire.

When we awoke the cruise ship was sailing along the coast of Roatan, the largest of Honduras’ Bay Islands. As we sailed along the coast, Rod and I had the same thought: Wouldn’t it be nice to be a missionary on an island. We had not purchased a shore excursion, so we sat on the balcony listening to the native music welcoming the cruisers pouring from the ship for a day of exploration as we discussed how to spend the day.

Caribbean Band welcoming tourist.

Caribbean Band welcoming tourist.

We decided on shopping and sampling the local cuisine. We walked past the dancers and Caribbean Band entering the tourist to the small two story outdoor mall anchored by Chico’s Restaurant. A man standing behind 4 foot fence called us over. Independent Tours was etched on his shirt. A photo ID hung from his neck. “They won’t let us in,” he said, “but if you exit the gate at the end of the Mall I will give you a tour of the island $25 each, and you don’t have to pay me until I bring you back.”

Warning thoughts flashed. Why are you fenced out? You could bring us to the other side of the island and take all of our money without bringing us back. Using the ships shore excursions is more expensive but it makes the cruise line responsible for your experience and they won’t leave until you return. I looked at my trusting husband, leaning toward accepting the offer, and shook my head no.

We wandered through all of the first floor ships and then meandered upstairs where I found Santa’s home away from home. Santa’s Caribbean Workshop hooked my curiosity and pulled me into the T-shirt shop with a smattering of Christmas decorations. The t-shirts were priced more reasonably than the last shop. As I searched for adult small, it dawned on me that I was listening to Christian music. I elbowed my husband, “Listen to that.” Happy to prosper fellow Christians we purchased several items.

Our journey to the end of the Mall ended at Chico’s Restaurant. The friendly waiter deposited a basket of chips and cup of guacamole to satisfy the rumbling of our stomachs until the entree arrived. We surveyed the large platter of meat, mountain of rice and bowl of beans and said in unison, “We should have bought one and split it.” I picked up my camera to capture the feast for future generations and got more than I bargained for when the waiter jumped into the picture.

Friendly waiter at Chico's restaurant.

Friendly waiter at Chico’s restaurant.

Sufficiently stuffed we descended the stairs for one last stop before returning to the ship. We entered a small trailer, the home of Guajiros Art – Fashion. As we studied the paintings, it suddenly dawned on me that I was listening to Christian music again.  “This the second shop we’ve been in playing Christian music,” I said to the owner.

“I’m a Christian, and we need to stand up for what we believe,” she replied.

Our conversation revealed that the island 47 miles long and 8 miles wide was already inundated with Christianity – every denomination from Catholic to Pentecostal had saturated the island with the gospel. Apparently, my husband and I were not the only ones who thought it would be nice to be a missionary on an island. I doubt Roatan needs another minister, but it might be a nice place to retire if California doesn’t work out.

The Fruit of Prayer

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Fritz Brown

Fritz Brown

I met Fritz Brown when he contacted me about an event he was coordinating. Christians United For Israel (CUFI) and Jesse Duplantis Ministries (JDM) were hosting a Pastor’s Luncheon and Middle East Briefing at the Marriott Convention Center in New Orleans. Fritz wanted me to write an article. I was happy to oblige. Later, Fritz returned the favor by meeting me at a restaurant to tell me his story.

Fritz was raised Catholic until his mother was born again and received the gift of tongues at a Catholic Charismatic meeting. His father, a former Baptist who no longer attended church would not have understood her practice of speaking in tongues. His mother often retreated to the bathroom and turned on the faucet to pray. Her prayers were soon answered when his father returned to Christ and was also filled with the Spirit. His parents joined The Christian Teaching Center, an independent Word of Faith church in Lafayette. Their spiritual lives flourished, but their children were slow to follow in their steps.

Fritz remembers going to the altar at The Christian Teaching Center and experiencing the power of God in such strength he could not stand, but God wasn’t real to him. He resented having to stay at the church, sometimes until midnight, while the congregation prayed. Fritz turned his back on God by the time he was thirteen. He stole money from the offering basket. While parents prayed, he enticed the other teenagers to go outside and shared his drugs with them. He quit school to spend the day smoking dope with his brother. His friends were racists, drug dealers, thieves, brawlers, prostitutes and pimps. One friend went to prison for rape, another one was involved in a murder and another committed suicide.

Fritz paused to reflect on his praying mother before he told me how he accepted Christ. “A couple of years ago, before my mother passed away, I felt I needed to tell her something. I went to her home, sat next to her, grabbed her by the hand and said, “Mom, I owe my soul to you. If not for your prayers, I would not be here today. At some point, you will pass away, but I want you to know that I owe my soul to you.”

When Fritz was seventeen years old, he was taking a shower when his mother walked into the bathroom. Shocked by the intrusion, Fritz peeked around the shower curtain. His mother grabbed his socks and shook them. A bag of weed fell on the floor. “Boy,” she said, “God told me to come in here and check your clothes.” His mother picked up the bag and walked out.

Fritz finished his shower, dressed, and walked to his parent’s bedroom to confront his father. “You got something that belongs to me.”

“Son,” replied his father, “tonight is a defining moment in your life. You have a decision to make. You can choose the right path or you can continue living the lifestyle you are living.”

Fritz extended his hand palm up, “You have something that belongs to me, and I want it now.” Tears streamed down his father’s face as he placed the bag of weed in his rebellious son’s hand. Fritz closed his fingers around the prized possession and turned his back to his father’s sorrow. His feet were heavy as he walked out of the bedroom. When he stepped into the kitchen, he looked at the bag of weed in his hand. His father’s words tugged at his heart. Fritz threw the bag on the floor and walked out of the house.

“I don’t remember if I quit that night or if it was the beginning. Not long after that, on Christmas Day 1982, I took my brother’s Bible and drove to a cave I knew about in north Louisiana.  I wanted to be alone and seek God. The weather was bad, and the rain coming down in torrents. I didn’t feel like it was working. I told God forget it, put my stuff back in the car and went home. I was watching a secular TV program with my girlfriend when I broke the silence with an unusual declaration, ‘Come Sunday I will be a totally different person.’ I had not said anything about the Bible or God. She looked at me with the devil in her eyes and said, ‘You’re not going to get religious on me are you?’ I think we both knew change was coming.”

Rev. Jesse Duplantis

Rev. Jesse Duplantis

Fritz’s life changed when his mother invited him to a meeting with Evangelist Jesse Duplantis. He was touched by Rev. Duplantis’ testimony and could not wait till the end of the service so he could receive God. Fritz walked to the altar as he had years earlier, this time with different results. He yielded his life to God and collapsed on the floor in the overwhelming presence of God’s love. After his conversion, he attended all of Rev. Duplantis’ meetings that were in driving distance from his home. He willingly made himself available to assist the evangelist, and they developed a relationship.

Five months later, he attended an ordination service at the Louisiana Assemblies of God’s annual business meeting. His heart was stirred to pursue ministry. He contacted several Christian colleges and was praying for direction when he felt compelled to attend a service Rev. Duplantis was holding in Moss Bluff, Louisiana.  After the service, Rev. Duplantis invited Fritz to the pastor’s office to talk.

“Fritz,” said Rev. Duplantis, “I want you to pray about something. I’m not going to tell you what it is. I want you to say, ‘Lord, I am praying for whatever Jesse told me to pray about’” Fritz walked out of the office knowing he would work for Rev. Duplantis one day.

At this point in my conversation with Fritz, he stopped telling me his story and prayed. From the moment, we sat down there was excessive noise making it difficult to talk. Two women had arrived with their children in tow. There were a lot of tables and other area’s the children could have played. They choose to play at our feet. Slight exaggeration, but you get the point. They were making a lot of noise.  Instead of addressing the women oblivious to the problem their children were creating for us, Fritz bound the devil’s interference. He was barely praying above a whisper. There is no way the women could have heard him. Fritz concluded his prayer. Immediately, the women gathered up their children and left. A scripture came to my mind, “…we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places (Ephesians 6:12, NKJV).

Fritz continued to seek God for direction and added praying according to Rev. Duplantis’ instructions. The following year, Fritz drove a friend to Buras. On his way home, his car broke down. He was near the office of Jesse Duplantis Ministries, so he called his friend for help. Rev. Duplantis sent his brother to bring Fritz to the auto parts store. On the way to the parts store, they stopped at Duplantis’ office.  While they were there, Rev. Duplantis invited Fritz to fill out an employment application. He did.

The next meeting Fritz attended, Rev. Duplantis introduced him as JDM’s new employee, even though he had not been officially started working yet. His first official duties as a JDM employee were at a church in Alexandria not far from the cave where Fritz sought God and assumed nothing had worked.

Fritz is still employed by Jesse Duplantis Ministries, and he is an ordained minister. He never made it to Bible College, but he is well educated through is devotion to studying God’s word and having received on the job training from one of the most successful evangelist of our day.

Testing the Waters

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Deanna Ceasaar

Deanna Ceasar

My office is wherever I can find an empty table. When I met with Deanna Ceasar, my office was the food court in the Mall. Deanna works with Chi Alpha New Orleans, a missionary outreach of the Assemblies of God established to evangelize college students.  She sat down in my “office” to tell me how Jesus had always been a part of her life, and how she became a Chi Alpha missionary.

Deanna’s devout Christian mother raised her in an independent holiness church. In general, holiness groups believe in regeneration by grace through faith with the Holy Spirit bearing witness of one’s salvation. They also believed holiness is attained by abstaining from certain behaviors. Drinking alcohol, gambling, dancing, watching movies, and women wearing pants are frowned upon.

“I was in church several times a week,” said Deanna, “but I don’t think I understood what Jesus sacrifice means to us and that our relationship with him is not about following rules, until I went to college. That’s where I learned that holiness came from our faith in Jesus and that God’s love transforms us.”

While living in Lake Charles with her family church attendance and striving to obey God were performed without question as a way of life. Relocating to Baton Rouge to attend Louisiana State University (LSU) separated Deanna from her family and put her in a position to choose. She could abandon a familiar way of life for new and forbidden experiences or follow Jesus.

When Deanna chose to follow Jesus, God drew her into a deeper relationship and a better understanding of whom he is. Her journey began when she joined a Church of God church while in college. The Deeper Life Class at the church introduced her to E. W. Kenyon’s What Happened from the Cross to the Throne. The book explained Jesus sacrifice in depth and compared the old blood covenant to the new blood covenant. As Deanna studied Kenyon’s book, she understood that Jesus’ death on the cross meant new life through the Spirit of God for her and everyone else who believed. Jesus made it possible to enter the Deanna Kenyon Cross Thronepresence of God who loved us and was interested in every facet of our lives.

During her sophomore year, Deanna’s relationship with God grew after a fellow student at LSU invited her to attend The Gathering. Students at The Gathering encouraged her to join a Life Group where she made lasting friendship and found a way to have fun without compromising her commitment to God. God used her new friends in Chi Alpha to show her a better picture of the love he had for her, and the caring relationship he wanted with her daily.

Being involved in Chi Alpha taught Deanna that Jesus is more than a personal Lord and Savior. He had also called her to share her faith. As she fellowshipped with her Christian friends and studied the Bible a desire to help others grow in their relationship with God developed. She took her first step to help others during her junior year, when she became a Life Group Leader and hosted a Bible Study with a group of friends.

Deanna had entered college to study business administration confident the skills would land her a good job, and she could live comfortably. As she grew in her relationship with God, her career goal faded. She reached a turning point when she attended The World Missions Summit with Chi Alpha.

Missionaries from all over the world spoke about spreading the gospel. She learned that God had “committed to us the message of reconciliation” and Christians had a responsibility to share that message as “Christ Ambassadors” (2 Corinthians 5:19). The desire to spread the gospel took root. At the conclusion of the conference, she committed to giving one year to missions and to pray about a lifetime of service.

“By the time I left the convention I was leaning toward a lifetime of service. The business classes were boring. I could make money, but it wasn’t a passion. I wanted to do something I loved. Something I would wake up in the morning and want to do.”

Deanna returned to college and changed her major to communications studies, which focused on interpersonal communication, rhetoric and public speaking. She questioned if she was called to ministry and shared her heart with a campus pastor. The pastor encouraged Deanna to pursue what she felt the Lord leading her to do.

Later that year, Deanna attended Fall Breakaway, another conference sponsored by Chi Alpha. During the conference, she felt the tug of God’s spirit to apply for an internship. After much prayer, she decided to pursue campus ministry.

“I felt like the Holy Spirit led me to attend the World Missions summit and make a commitment to give a year and then gave me more guidance during the Fall Breakaway to apply for the internship. I started the internship at the University of Louisiana in Lafayette committed serving for one year and to pray about a life time of service.”

As the internship drew to a close, she considered options to continue in the ministry. Some of the interns were praying about starting new ministries and others were talking to leaders of established ministries. Deanna noted that most of the people in Chi Alpha were white. Her heart was drawn to help the African American community. She knew Louisiana had four historically black colleges: Grambling, Dillard, Xavier and Southern in New Orleans and Shreveport. None of them had Chi Alpha, so she prayed for God’s direction.

Deanna did not have peace about pioneering a ministry alone. Her campus pastor told her about Chi Alpha in New Orleans lead by Matt and Jen Degier. The Degier’s had been in New Orleans for six years and made inroads at Tulane, UNO, Loyola and hoped to expand to Xavier. The opportunity to work with a team was confirmation that God wanted her in New Orleans. Deanna was a perfect fit for their team and excited to work in a city that had two historically black colleges.

“I have committed to serving Chi Alpha in New Orleans for five years,” said Deanna. “If doors open the way I feel they will and praying they will, I may be here longer as the Lord leads. One thing is certain. I believe I am called to minister the gospel and help others come to know God through Jesus Christ. Maybe not in Chi Alpha forever, but right now I love being on one of the most strategic missions fields of the world sharing Christ with the future leaders of the world – college students.”

An Interview With Troy Jackson

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Troy Jackson, Author

Troy Jackson, Author

1) Tell us about yourself – what do you like to write? How long have you written? What prompted you to start writing?

My name is Troy Jackson, and I have been interested in writing ever since I was a child.  As a child of the 80′s and 90′s I tended to gravitate towards all-things fantasy and action-oriented.  My writing follows this closely.  However, professionally I would say I have only written for the past couple of years when I finally decided to put some of the crazy ideas in my head onto paper.

2) What types of books do you like to read?

I love novels of all kinds, except maybe Westerns and Romance.  Those just aren’t my thing…

3) Do you have another author that you model yourself after?

Writing-style wise I wouldn’t say I do, but one thing I have always followed in both reading and writing – my attention span is short and so I enjoy short chapters, a la James Patterson and Dan Brown.

4) What inspires you to write?

Ideas for great stories have swirled around in my brain for decades, ranging from futuristic tales to “what if” stories.  All it takes is for a great piece of music, or a movie, or a novel I have read to get the juices going.

5) When a story idea pops into your head, how long does it typically take to write it (from start to finish)?

Depends, of course, on what it is.  A short story might pop into my head and I might write it in a few hours, or an entire novel may take me years to finish.

6) What did you find to be the most difficult part of the writing process? Easiest?

Most difficult is definitely the editing part.  I loathe editing.  Easiest would be plotting out the idea.  It’s when I get to be the most creative and splash it all onto paper.

7) Tell us about your book and why you incorporated Confucian beliefs.

Print My novel, The Elementals, is a tale of good versus evil where I take actual events that occurred in ancient China, some 2200 years ago, and add my own supernatural twist to it.  Back then, the teachings of Confucius were just beginning to take hold, and were quickly growing popular.  What I find fascinating is that many of the beliefs in Confucianism are steadfastly held by Christians, such as strength within the family, loyalty, and respecting your elders.  What many do not realize is that Confucius believed in what we know of today as ‘The Golden Rule’ (as he said, “Do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself”).  During the time period that I write about, during the reign of the First Emperor of China, Confucianism was alive and flourishing.  However, it promoted free-thinking, and the Emperor began to suppress it, believing that it was a direct threat to his strict authority. 

 8) Where can readers find Elementals? Do you have plans for a second book?

 From the very beginning I knew that The Elementals would be a trilogy.  So I am in the process (albeit slowly) of writing the second book, which I hope to have completed by the end of 2013, and book three done by the end of 2014 or early 2015.

The Elementals can be found online at most retailers, such as Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc. The easiest way to look it up is by author name.  Here are a few links:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Elementals-ebook/dp/B009TD48BQ/ref=sr_1_34?ie=UTF8&qid=1350846296&sr=8-34&keywords=troy+jackson

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-elementals-troy-jackson/1113515798?ean=9781621371496

http://www.virtualbookworm.com/mm5/merchant.mvc?Store_Code=bookstore&Screen=PROD&Product_Code=The_Elementals

It is available in hardcover, paperback, and ebook (Kindle, Nook, i-Books, etc.).

 9) Do you have a website? Blog?

 Website & Blog: http://www.tempestworks.com

Twitter: @TroyJackson12

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/troy.jackson.7127

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6566144.Troy_Jackson

 

A Lesson in Submission

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Pastor Peggy Ratliff

Click on Testimonies in the category list for Part 1 of Peggy Ratliff’s story “Without Holiness”. In Part 1 God used a Eunice to teach Peggy the importance of living a holy life. In Part 2 Peggy learns submission.

After Peggy learned the importance of living a holy life, her friend and mentor, James Millsap, started an independent church. By this time, Peggy had remarried, so she asked her husband if he wanted to follow James into the new work. Her husband concurred. Peggy found a place of ministry, but her husband’s spiritual growth stalled.

When her husband stopped going to church, their relationship became strained. Peggy found herself in an odd predicament. As she worked to build the house of God, her own house slowly fell apart. She knew the situation was serious when her husband left and didn’t return.

As Peggy prayed and searched for a solution to her marital problems she heard God say, “Read all the scriptures that apply to a wife.” Peggy searched her Bible for every scripture that referenced being a wife. Her study led her to Ephesians 5:24 “Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything,” NIV.  Having lived as a single mother and business woman for many years before she remarried, she wasn’t accustomed to submitting. She realized she had taken that attitude into her marriage and usurped her husband’s God given place in their union.

“When I realized what the problem was, I promised God I would submit to my husband if he would bring him home again. Three months later, my husband walked through the door. Before he could say anything, I apologized and asked him for a second chance.”

Peggy’s resolve was tested the first time she wanted to visit a girlfriend who lived an hour away. She called her husband to inquire if he was agreeable. He hesitated. Peggy wondered if he would deny her request and tears filled her eyes. Did God really expect her to act like a child who needed permission?

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know; an hour or two,” said Peggy.

“OK, I just don’t want you on the road at night by yourself.”

The brief conversation broke the barrier Peggy had against submission. She realized the intent of submission is not to control but to protect. Peggy now felt safe relinquishing control to her husband’s leadership. She also knew her husband was not flourishing in ministry as she was and asked him where he wanted to attend church. He said, “The Church of God in Christ.”

Peggy smiled. “The Church of God in Christ allows women to be missionaries, but it’s on a different order than what I was accustomed. At that point, it wasn’t about me in ministry. It was about obedience. If I never preached again, I was OK with that even though it would be sad.”

The first church they visited left Peggy in tears. She was shunned for her red hair and makeup. After the service, she said to her husband, “I told God I would follow you, but if you take me here I will die.”

“We don’t have to go here,” replied her husband.

Then Peggy remembered that Eunice attended a Church of God in Christ. She also knew God would be where ever Eunice was. “Can we attend Eunice’s church?”

The following Sunday, Peggy and her husband sat next to Eunice and listened to her pastor deliver a message filled with the love of God. They stayed, and her husband studied to become a minister. On Thursday nights, congregation members were allowed to share a message, so Peggy submitted her name as a speaker.  She was thrilled and called all her friends when she received permission to speak.

Peggy’s face glowed as she recalled the experience to me. “The Lord showed up in such a profound way. My message “Let’s Go Higher” followed Moses from the back side of the desert where he was hiding his face from God to the time he was on Sinai saying ‘I want to see you face’. I challenged the congregation to move from being afraid of God to an intimate relationship with God. By the time, the message ended there was an explosion in the spirit with tongues going forth and the cries of people as God released them from bondage.”

The evidence of God’s call on Peggy’s life prompted the Church of God in Christ to ordain her as a missionary and as the district evangelist, a title usually carried by men. A year later, Peggy received a prophecy that it was time for her to build a house for God. Peggy and her husband left the Church of God in Christ and started a Bible Study in their home. The study grew into Holy Trinity Outreach Ministries. Having been trained in holiness and the value of submission, Peggy is well equipped to shepherd God’s people.

Holy Trinity Outreach Ministries is located at 1001 Central Ave, Metairie, Louisiana 70001. Services are Sundays 10:00 am and Wednesday 7:00 pm. For more information call (504) 309-2677.

Without Holiness

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Pastor Peggy Ratliff

I’ve had Pastor Peggy Ratliff’s story in my laptop for a long time. So long, I met her at a grocery store a few months ago and didn’t remember her. To jar my memory, she said I had interviewed her. My mind went to job interview, and I wondered what she was talking about. Needless to say, I stopped interviewing people until I have written all of the stories awaiting transcription in my computer.

Peggy lived an hour’s drive west of New Orleans in Paulina, Louisiana. One of a string of small communities that dot the Mississippi River like push pins on a cork board. Peggy’s care fell to her strict Baptist grandmother when Peggy was three months old. As she grew into a toddler the awareness of her surroundings included the consciousness of God’s presence. Deeply devoted to God, her grandmother had one radio in her home reserved for Sunday use when she listened to gospel music while she dressed for church. She taught Peggy reverence for God and his house.

Every summer her church held a revival designed for teenagers. During the revival, the teenagers were not allowed to do anything but pray and attend church. The summer Peggy turned sixteen; she had an unusual experience on the heels of the summer revival. Her church was near her home, and she often walked to Sunday school. In between her grandmother’s house and church, she encountered a light more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. A man and woman standing in the light spoke to her. Peggy told the elders of the church about the vision. They saw a difference in her countenance and discerned Peggy’s experience was genuine. “Even though I’ve always loved God and the church,” said Peggy, “my salvation experience began at sixteen when I was baptized in water.

As teenagers are wont to do, Peggy drifted from her childhood zeal. Peer pressure became a stumbling block that prevented Peggy from fully devoting her life to God. The majority of the girls in her graduating class already had babies. Desiring to be accepted, Peggy made up a baby and a wild life. Fantasy became reality when she became pregnant.

“At that time, my life was all out of whack,” said Peggy. “I never stopped going to church, but my heart did. I think I changed with my church, which had switched from holiness to pursuing prosperity and healing. There was still a part of me yearning for God, but I was comfortable with the lack of conviction. It’s easy to conform when attending church becomes routine, but I knew that I wasn’t living the life.”

By the time she was twenty-seven, Peggy was in the middle of a divorce and worked as a hair stylist. One Saturday morning, a young girl in a long jean skirt and bobby socks walked into her salon. Eunice had just come from a church service held in a garage. She had insight into Peggy’s life and told her things no one else knew. Eunice became more than a regular customer. She became a friend willing to speak the truth in love.

“Peggy,” said Eunice, “you are perishing. If you don’t change the way you’re living. You will go to Hell.”

“I’m not going to Hell. I attend church every Sunday, and I’m in ministry. I’m on the prayer team, and work with the youth,” retorted a perturbed Peggy.

“You have to do more than attend church. Without holiness, no man will see God.”

“If God thought we would never sin again once we got saved, there was no need for Jesus to die. He died because he knew that once we got saved we would not live right but sin again.” Peggy knew Eunice was right. All the excuses she could think of could not quench the conviction that seized her heart. Peggy recalled the dream her grandmother had before she died. She dreamed that Peggy was dressed in white and told her “You were beautifully dressed, beautifully adorned.”

“I’m going to fast and pray for you, and believe God for your salvation,” said Eunice. Moved by the love and power in her words, Peggy accepted an invitation to attend Eunice’s church.

Peggy found a seat among the small congregation. The sermon about the sins of the parents falling on the children down to the fourth and fifth generation made her reflect on her own life. “I was a thirty year old divorcee with two children. For the first time, I understood that my lifestyle would affect my children. In that moment, my heart changed. I wanted to live right before God, because I loved my kids more than life. If anyone tried to harm my children, I would kill for them, yet I was the one causing the greatest damage to their lives. That day, I began asking God to help me.”

The small church had little to offer children and Peggy’s children were not happy. She returned to her traditional church that had a children’s ministry, but her life was never the same. The prosperity gospel her church had embraced did not satisfy. For five years, she yearned to return to the little church in the garage.

When her children were old enough to make their own choices, Peggy returned to the holiness church. They welcomed her with love, but Peggy did not fit in. The women were not allowed to wear pants. They also frowned on make-up and a woman cutting her hair. Peggy stayed long enough to learn that the “letter of the law kills but the spirit gives life.” The word of truth she had heard there took root and slowly shaped who she became, but the abundance of rules made it difficult for her to grow. She stayed for a short time and then returned to her traditional church for a lesson in submission.

NEXT WEEK: A LESSON IN SUBMISSION 2/2

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Dark Time

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Dr. Kathy Baker

by Kathy Baker and Teena Myers

Our strong willed seventeen year old son had moved out a month before Christmas. He wanted to live his life his way. His disregard for our choice to live in a manner that honored God left us one option – tough love. We set him free to do things his way, but he could not do them in our home anymore. He packed his things and left with two friends that he valued above his family.

Christmas Eve my husband, Jerry, left with our daughter for last minute shopping. I spent the morning enjoying our Christmas decorations, contemplating the joy of opening long awaited presents. Thoughts of family reminded me of our son’s struggle. I turned on my television. “The Greatest Story Ever Told” distracted my thoughts for the next three hours.

The movie of Jesus life and sufferings concluded, and I walked into the kitchen pondering Thornton Wilder’s The Eighth Day. Wilder challenged the reader to understand their lives as a great landscape that extends far beyond what the eye of our experience can see. Who knows how one experience so singularly horrible, can set in motion a chain of events that will bless future generations? Tragedy may appear to be random, but that does not mean it is. It may fit into a scheme that surpasses even what our imaginations dare to think.

While searching for my favorite coffee cup, I heard a low cry coming from the kitchen door. I opened the door. To my horror a bloody young man whose head was grotesquely enlarged and covered with contusions fell onto the floor. His left eye was swollen shut; patches of hair and scalp were missing. I didn’t recognize the face. I recognized the clothes. My son had come home.

As he gasped for breath, I heard, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Mom. I love your more than you know.”

Tears streaming down my face, I fell to the floor and pulled my son into my arms. “Lord, take my life in place of my sons.”

“Kathy, I have already taken your life. I want your son’s,” whispered the gentle voice of the Holy Spirit.

My arms tightened around my son hanging by a thread between life and death. “Son, fight for your life. Call on Jesus, and you will live.” I gently laid him on the kitchen floor. “I’m going to call 911 and your Dad, I’ll be right back.”

Within moments, we were in the hospital emergency room, our son whisked behind closed doors. We waited and prayed. Jerry’s sister and her husband arrived. We walked the corridors praying, waiting, praying and waiting. Hours elapsed. Then a breakthrough, our son responded to treatment.

A complete recovery was eclipsed by a greater miracle the morning my son was discharged from the hospital. I awoke to rays of the sun barely breaking the horizon. “This is the day you have prayed and waited for,” resounded in my heart. Recognizing the Lord’s voice, I bolted out of bed, jolting my husband from a sound sleep.

“Where are you going?”

“To the hospital,” I replied.

I sat by my son’s bedside full of emotion. “Be quiet” echoed in my mind withholding a torrent of words.

My son opened his eyes. “You’re here early.”

Be quiet. I drew my lips tightly together lest the wrong word shatter a holy moment in time.

He rubbed his eye and looked at me deep in thought. “Mama, I am ready to live – I mean really live. Please help me.” For the first time in his life, my son released his purpose and times to the direction of the Holy Spirit.

All of us experience dark times in our life that inexplicably grow darker. Take courage. Jesus always shines through.  That Christmas Eve was a dark time for me, but God gave me more than I could image when he turned tragedy into good.

Dr. Kathy Baker is a certified Christian Marriage and Family Therapist and a licensed Belief Therapist. She holds a Bachelor, Masters, and a Doctorate in Restorative Justice. She is a co-founder of Church of the Crossroads in Laredo, Texas and has ministered from London to Peru, from Guatemala to Hawaii and across the United States, before God called her and her husband to New Orleans. She is the founder of Interfaith Counseling Services and co-pastors Metro Christian Fellowship 8121 Airline Hwy, Metairie with her husband Rev. Jerry Baker. Her interfaith Women Wanting Wisdom Bible Study has chapters in Louisiana and Texas. Contact Kathy at kathylbaker@yahoo.com

You Really Did Help Me

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Pastor Jeff Oettle reading his copy of Finding Faith in the City Care Forgot

I knew something Pastor Jeff didn’t know when he met me at Starbucks. He really did help me, but not in his way, in God’s.  More than ten years earlier, Jeff had been hired to be the worship leader at my church. Before he arrived to assume his new position, my husband and I had left the church. The coming and going was all in God’s perfect timing, but I didn’t know that. I didn’t want to leave the church, and at the same time felt our departure was long overdue. Attendance there had become a love hate relationship. I loved the people and teaching my Sunday school class but hated the war zone the church had become.

With lots of time and not much to do, I slipped into depression. I had started writing while teaching Sunday school. In a quest to dig my way out of darkness, I began writing again. I didn’t want to write. Writing kept me sane. My choice was clear. Write or sit in a mental ward banging my head on a wall. I ended up published, but not by intent. At every turn, I found reason to cast the manuscript on a shelf convinced I had come to the end of the publishing road.

Three years later, Jeff was elected as the new pastor, and the church my husband and I attended had permanently closed its doors. With no place to go and a new pastor at the helm, I pushed my husband to return. We were not in agreement. I loved teaching my Sunday school class and thought I could pick up where I left off. My husband relented to my desire when he saw that, unlike the previous pastor, Jeff was supportive.

The church had been reduced to a stump, and the Sunday school department closed by the time we returned. I requested to start a Women’s Ministry. Pastor Jeff encouraged me in word and in deed. We started strong with twenty ladies at the first meeting. Even though things were going well, I knew in the depths of my heart, later confirmed by a series of events, that this was not God’s place for me. Another woman felt I had laid a foundation she could build on and I resigned.

I started a drama team. A friend who writes plays helped me write the skits for the team to perform. Unwittingly, I had returned to the very thing I did not want to do. Write. I was ecstatic when Pastor Jeff announced the church was implementing Sunday school again. My joy was but for a moment. Before he finished making the announcement, I knew Sunday school was not my place, and God would give me no part in it. Instead, my return to writing led to the revelation that I had a book published. Jeff offered to help me.

I sat in his office with prepared notes, so I did not ramble. He listened patiently as I explained how I had started writing and the events that led to a published book.I then detailed ways the church could help me with self-publishing. Jeff believed in my talent and offered to bring the matter before the board as a ministry worthy of financial backing.

After the meeting, I called a friend and prayer partner. We prayed God’s will “would be done, as it is in heaven”. I specifically prayed that God would shut the door, if he did not want the church financing a book. When Jeff called with the results of the meeting, he said, “Teena, the door is shut.” He offered an alternate way for me to obtain finances from the church as a missionary. I declined the generous offer. Jeff’s statement confirmed that God had heard my petition, and I didn’t want to kick open a door that God had shut.

It appeared Jeff’s quest to help me had failed, but it didn’t. I had resisted writing for many years when I met with Jeff about his offer to help me. I had returned to a church where I no longer belonged, unwilling to accept that teaching was over. I had walked into his office a reluctant writer. During the conversation, I accepted writing as my lot in life. I exited his office with clarity and purpose. Jeff really did help me, but he didn’t know that until he met me at Starbucks. I owed him a copy of my book because his story, “God’s Family”, is in Finding Faith in the City Care Forgot.