The Church Needs Your Eyes and Ears

By Charles Moncrief

Jack Sheffield is a Priest. He and his wife Anna Marie formed Deep River Ministries (http:www.deepriverministries.org) which, according to their home page, “is an interdenominational healing ministry of Jesus Christ committed to healing individuals, the church, places and situations through the power of the Holy Spirit and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” Even though countless healings have occurred directly or indirectly through their ministry, but the vast majority are by human standards sub-newsworthy. (Let’s be honest, in the human economy reduced redness following prayer over a poison-ivy rash doesn’t get equal attention with snatching someone out of the jaws of death.) But my purpose in writing this article is not about spiritual healing, since healing is only incidental to the Sheffields’ overall ministry.

Rather, I want to write about a personal experience while attending their 2011 weekend in Dallas on April 1 & 2. Jack talked about several things on Friday evening, and I’ll describe three of them. But let me say up front, I’m writing something different from what they intended to teach.

The first was a quote from Psalm 24, which I’ll paraphrase as “Lift up your heads, O ye gates! Behold, the King of Glory is coming in!” Now hold that thought, as I’ll get back to it.

Jack told the story of a preacher who interviewed a witch on a TV program he hosted. As he faced the witch and asked several embarrassing questions, all with an accusatory tone, the witch remained silent. Finally, the preacher asked, “Why don’t you say anything?” The witch responded, “I’m not about to say anything, since that creature behind you is at least eight feet tall!”

Jack’s third story, beginning at from 2 Kings 7:4, is why I’m writing all of this on the Time’s Up! blog. The setting of the story is a city in Israel under siege by Syria’s army. Four lepers have reached such a point of hopelessness and despondency, that they leave the city and go to the army’s camp in order to get killed right away. To their surprise, the camp is empty! The passage says that God made the Syrian soldiers hear the noise of a large fighting force descending upon them, and they ran away in such terror that they left everything behind. And of course, the Syrians thought in human terms, attributing a divine miracle to some ridiculous earthly activity. To a modern Bible scholar, the Hittites and Egyptians wouldn’t align with Israel against Syria. But soldiers in ancient Syria didn’t have the benefit of twenty-five centuries to analyze their folly.

Here’s what screamed at me from the two stories. An army of soldiers who hated Israel could hear the thundering hosts from God, but the religious leaders of Israel couldn’t. And the witch could see a godly apparition, but the preacher couldn’t. Neither is there any record of the good folks in the city even asking “What’s that noise?” And neither is anything said by the preacher’s camera crew or stage hands.

My thoughts turn to domestic abuse and other forms of oppressive violence today. It’s disquieting to me that, with infinite supernatural power and support available to victims, is the Church missing this resource? Are abusers able to see the eight-foot-tall armored defenders, or do they hear the thundering hordes of God’s warriors, only to be unbothered by them because the modern-day Church is too “dignified” to notice (or worse, to tap into this power)? Why is it that when church leaders or prayer teams pray that God will give victims strength, support, healing, or even protection, the prayer always seems to contain the unspoken petition “But don’t really do it, because we’re conditioned not to expect miracles today”?

I’m even concerned with the prayer in the Cursillo renewal movement that begins with “Come, Holy Spirit,” because it honestly seems that the next thought is “but don’t embarrass us by really showing up and making us look like Charismatics!”

It’s time for the Church to be open to miracles, and to look forward to the day that miraculous supernatural intervention is the norm rather than the exception. For twenty centuries the Church leaders haven’t been very open to this idea, and a lot of the members have likewise been more comfortable with the status quo.

Now back to Psalm 24. If the King of Glory is going to work in the Church, if supernatural intervention is truly going to be something that victims can rely on, then the leaders of the Church need your help. The King of Glory doesn’t come through closed gates. So will you help the Church and its leaders to see what’s truly available? Will you also be the eyes and ears?

Grace and Peace,

Charles+

Out Of The Dark

By Susan Murphy Milano

Growing up in a home where violence is part of your daily existence does not only affect the victim and the abuser, but it wreaks havoc on children born into this toxic environment well into their adult life.


As an adult survivor of violence and homicide I hid from being labeled a “victim.” I did not want anyone to see me weak, hurt or distraught. I learned how to be in control of my entire world. This included my work with victims of stalking and violence. I created a strong image for the world to see that allowed me to assist those who lived and played in very dark sandboxes, the same box I would go and hide when no one was looking. As if I were playing a game of hide and seek with myself.


I would discover just how dark my sandbox was in the fall of 2009. If you happen to listen to my weekly show on blog talk radio it was evident that something was wrong with my throat and voice. It had a mind of its own. One minute I would be talking in my normal tone and after a few minutes it would raise up and go loud or very rough for no reason at all. My throat would get so bad I timed each of my telephone conversations. By the end of the day my voice was gone and all you could hear was a strained whisper. I attempted to make excuses telling friends and colleagues that I had a cold or a sinus infection. People expressed concern and I continued making excuses.


I had already known for quite some time that something was wrong. I made an appoinment with a doctor. He scheduled me for a biopsy and I waited for the results to come back. I told no one.




Readily, I accepted the diagnosis and did not give it a second thought when the doctors offered me little hope for a full recovery.




In true "Jane Wayne” I can do anything spirit, I was prepared and preparing for the end of my life’s journey. With my new book “Time’s Up” about to release and another book “Holding My Hand Through Hell” scheduled for 2011, I worked with the help of my colleague and close friend Delilah to complete the projects. I was out of gas so to speak with little to no energy, sadly I could no longer continue with the Justice Interrupted program. A show I created to bring awareness for victims of unsolved crimes. This world had shown only darkness and being diagnosed with a life threatening condition I had done what I never let victims of abuse or suvivors of homicide do, give up.


After the holidays my doctor arranged hospice care for when it was time. I decided to say goodbye one by one to friends and colleagues. I made arrangements to visit each person either by car or air bringing special gifts of love as I said my final goodbye.


I was more at peace with dying then I had ever been with living. In my sandbox the light never really warmed the sand.


But the light from my friends was too bright. One by one each rallied around to do what was necessary to keep me here. Their love for me and my work was my river of warmth, love and more importantly light. Almost daily I received books, cd’s and emails of prayers from total strangers. Churches I never heard of contacted me asking how they could help me. Doctor’s in the field offered to provide medical services without charge.


When my health went into a downward spiral a friend flew in to town, rented a car and took me home with her. I had never experienced anyone ever doing anything for me without expecting something back in return.


Several days later I responded to the medication and my health improved. My voice returned and the tumor that was blocking my airway is now gone. I would like to tell you that I had a medical miracle and expect a full recovery. But that is only a small part to my recovery. The miracle is really about God and how he placed all those loving, wonderful people on my path and in my life whom refused to allow me to give up. Words don't seem adequate in describing my deepest thanks, but they are why I am still here.






To my shinning angels, thank you Delilah, Jaemi, Jillian, Kathryn, David, Chris, Nancy, Lavinia, Denise, Neil, Michael, Jay, Christine, Lisa, Jason, Dirk, Cherry, Wanda, Deon, Jennifer, Nicole, Claudine, David, Anny, Mitchell, Patte, Amanda, Diane, Nancy, Paul, Dawn, Margaret, Ward and all the others who have surrounded me with their love and placed me in the light.