“It’s not going to be like this always, Avis. I do this for us. You know this. We have this huge home with luxury vehicles parked in all four of our garages because of my hard work. Our children don’t want for anything. Everybody has the latest gizmo—”
“But we don’t have you,” Avis said. “You and I don’t even go out anymore.”
“That’s not true.”
She looked at me like I had grown another head. “When was the last time you took me out?”
I thought for a few minutes. She gave me time.
“Okay,” she said. “If you don’t remember when, where did we go? And church doesn’t count.”
I admit she had me with that one, too. It had been so long, I couldn’t recall the last place she and I had gone anywhere together other than church. Not even on one of our past anniversaries, although I did give her beautiful diamonds each year and a car for one.
“I promise, Avis. I’m going to cut back. You can’t just do something like that all at once.”
“That’s what you keep saying, but you never do it. What’s the point of having a family if you’re not ever around to enjoy us?”
“I’m just trying to ensure our security, Avis. I want you and the children to have the best. I know it may be out-of-date thinking, but I’m supposed to provide for you.”
She walked up to me and grabbed my hand. “Money-wise, you provide plenty, Dr. Holden. Where we seem to be deficient is me having a husband around, and the children are desperately in need of a father. I don’t know, Xavier. There’s always a trade-off in whatever decisions we make. I just pray you don’t find yourself losing your family while in the pursuit of the almighty dollar that no one is forcing you to chase except you.”
When I came home yesterday from the office, my family was gone. There was a note from Avis.
Xavier,
When you decide you really want to be part of a family, let me know.
I love you,
Avis
I called Avis on her cell phone and promised her I would cut back starting first thing next week. She wasn’t hearing it anymore. If I was serious, I would have to prove it.
So today I went to church, albeit alone, seeking God’s guidance. And as Pastor Landris was preaching, he pointed out, once again, that strongholds aren’t always the obvious things we think of as strongholds.
“Strongholds aren’t always sins. Some people are people-pleasers,” Pastor Landris said. “That’s not a sin, but it can be a stronghold. Food. Various drugs. Some people might be habitual liars. It’s not one of the Ten Commandments, though it is addressed in the Bible. It’s a major character flaw, and can be a stronghold. Believe it or not, even things we think of as being good things can be strongholds. How many of you work so much you neglect to spend time with your family? As great and noble a virtue as honest, hard work is, if you’re not careful, work can be a stronghold. Being married to a person who beats on you—abusing you physically and mentally—and staying in that marriage because you vowed ‘until death do us part,’ which may very well happen sooner than you think, can be a stronghold. Anything with a hold on you, anything that controls you instead of you controlling it, is a stronghold.”
So today, I’ve made the decision I will take back my life. Satan has deceived me in the most clever of ways for long enough. I’m a workaholic. Today, I’m breaking my stronghold. I’m going into the enemy’s camp, and I’m getting my family back!
Arletha
This was my first visit to this church, Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center. When I saw that preacher stand up with that long hair, I started to get up right then and there and walk out. There are just certain things I believe and don’t believe in, seeing as I was practically raised in the church. If anybody should know…I should. One thing I know: women ain’t supposed to be wearing pants in church. I don’t care what folks say. And for sure, men ain’t got no business with hair that’s longer than mine, looking like some woman.
I’ve been running for Jesus a long time, and all these newfangled philosophies people are trying to introduce into the Lord’s house just ain’t gonna fly with me. I don’t believe you can be saved just by confessing your sins and believing on Jesus. Now don’t go get all confused about what I just said. I do believe on Jesus, Lord knows I believe in Jesus. But the notion that all you have to do to get into heaven is to just confess you’re a sinner, then accept Jesus as your savior and that’s it—you’re now guaranteed a place in heaven without proving you’re worthy—is a bunch of hogwash! Excuse my French. But frankly, I’m tired of people telling and buying into that lie.
The Bible clearly tells us we must work while it’s day because when night comes, no man can work. I joined the church sixty years ago, after I’d just turned six. It didn’t take me long to make the decision, like it seemed to have taken many of the others. I knew back then that God had a call on my life, and I’ve been working in His vineyard ever since. Why do I work, you ask? ’Cause I want to get into heaven. I only pray I will have done enough to make it in. I want to hear my Lord say to me on that great day, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant. Come on up a little higher.” For sure I don’t want to hear, “Depart from me; I know you not.”
That’s why I’m in church every time the door opens. Trying to be good enough to make it into heaven. Trying to ensure the Lord remembers me. I believe He’s keeping a record of our attendance, and everything we do and don’t do.
I attend Sunday school every Sunday. I’m secretary of the Missionary Society, a faithful doorkeeper, president of the senior usher board. In fact, I’m so diligent on my usher job, nary does a gum chewer get past Ms. Arletha Brown. I run the floors of the church with an iron fist.
“Ms. Arletha, do you ever smile?” one of those little fast teenagers, Sister Penny’s oldest daughter, asked me a few weeks back.
Who’s got time to be smiling? “I’ll have plenty of time to smile once I get to heaven,” I said. “Ain’t a thing to smile about down here. The devil is busy and he wants nothing more than for me to miss getting into heaven. I’m on my job, little girl, and I expect Jesus will smile when He sees me coming. Now, y’all go on somewhere and set down,” I said as I gave her and her little friends my best frown, “like I done told you to. And don’t be over there talking during service, ’cause I will escort you out if I have to.”
Them children started laughing like something was funny. Ain’t a thing funny about going to hell. A lot of folks are gonna miss heaven and bust hell wide open! Just watch and see. And them same folks who think I’m some kind of a religious fanatic gonna be the main ones begging me to dip my finger in water and cool their parching tongues. Well, they can forget about that. ’Cause I’m working too hard now, trying to make it into heaven myself while they’re laughing and carrying on like tomorrow is promised. If folks want to stroll past those pearly gates and walk on streets paved with gold, they best be trying to follow in my footsteps.
Six days a week, you’ll find me working the church door, manning the aisles, or sitting reverently on a pew with my Bible in tow every one of those days. On the seventh day, I rest, just like God did. I only hope I’ll have done enough to make it in.
Folks around here be treating their salvation like it’s a game or something. Well, my eternal life ain’t no plaything.
I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I ain’t never done or even tried to do drugs. In fact I’m so committed, I won’t even take aspirins for my headaches. I don’t cuss. I ain’t never gambled a day in my life. I don’t lie; I tell folks the truth and I don’t care whether it hurts their feelings or not. I don’t overeat. In fact, I do some type of fasting at least once a month. Most times I do a three-day, no food fast. But I have done the Daniel Fast (ten days in a row) where you eat fruits, vegetables, and nuts; no meat, sugar, or caffeine.
When I pray, I get down on both my knees, and I pray for at least an hour. My head does not hit the pillow until I have read my Bible a minimum of one h
our, every single night. I give money to the poor. I pay my tithes. I give offerings. Well, at least I did pay tithes and offerings up until a few weeks ago when I decided to leave where my church membership has been for the past forty-six years in search of a new church home.
I confess: I don’t agree with my soon to be ex-pastor and his decision to start allowing them young people to be doing that dancing and junk in the Lord’s house like all these other churches have begun to do here lately. I tried talking to Pastor Rainey and the deacons, but they seem bent on following the popular, worldly ways of late—trying to get more people to come to church and fill up some of those empty pews. Just selling out.
I figure if folks don’t want to come…too bad. We shouldn’t change the type of songs we sing just because the attendance has fallen off and folks are flocking to all these other churches. Contemporary gospel, hip-hop gospel, gospel rap, praise dancing: whoever heard of such nonsense! When will folks get it? Church is supposed to be dull and boring. I figure that’s how the Lord can tell who’s sincere and who’s not. People want to start changing everything, liven things up. Cutting out testimony service. Talking about folks holding too long just because they want to get out of church earlier. Wake up, people! These are the last days.
I contend if it was good enough for my mother, good enough for my father, then it’s good enough for me. The only person I can do anything about is me. And I’m just trying to make sure if nobody else does, I’m gonna make it to heaven. I ain’t got time for folks who don’t care about their own soul. Folks reading all kinds of filthy magazines and books, sleeping with any and everybody, smoking, doping, lying, cheating—sinning like there’s no tomorrow. You can’t hardly walk into a store these days without half-naked men and women jumping out at you off the covers of stuff. And the TV, Lord, you talk about an idle mind being the devil’s workshop. I have to protect my eye and ear gates.
Then I heard it. This Pastor Landris fellow said it, while the devil (I know it was him) tried—for a minute there anyway—to tell me this long-haired, ungodly man was talking to me.
“And some of you sitting here today are plagued by a stronghold of religion. You think you’re going to make it into heaven based on what you do here. You think you can live right enough and good enough to get in,” Pastor Landris said. “Well, let me tell you something. You cannot live good enough to make it into heaven. You don’t get into heaven based upon your works. Church, none of us are good enough. That’s why Jesus had to come. We are saved by grace. When you brag about what you’re doing that’s going to get you into heaven, it’s equivalent to saying: ‘What Jesus did on the cross, and God raising Him from the dead, was of no effect. I’m good enough to make it in on what I do and not what Jesus has already done.’ That just doesn’t line up with scripture.”
I watched Pastor Landris as he seemed, for one minute, almost to peer into my very soul. Then he said, “Break the stronghold of religion, legalism, and tradition. Just because you’ve always done something one way or believed in something all your life, doesn’t make you right. There’s a big difference in religious dogma and a relationship with Jesus the Christ. If religion has a stronghold on you, it’s highly likely you don’t truly know Jesus. And if you know about Jesus and don’t know Him—if you haven’t truthfully accepted Him as Lord and Savior—then you’re no better off than a sinner who has never accepted Jesus. Don’t deceive yourself. Ultimately, every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord.” He nodded his head several times.
“When you get to heaven, you won’t be asked: What’s your religion?” Pastor Landris continued. “Don’t be deceived. You don’t want to be standing there trying to say what you did in God’s name, and have Him tell you He never knew you merely because you failed to confess your sins, accept Jesus and all He did on the cross, and believe that God raised Him from the dead.” Pastor Landris’s voice began to wind down. He scanned the sanctuary. “Joining a ‘church’ is not equivalent to being saved. And that’s what some of you unknowingly did at the time—you joined a group, but not the body of Christ.”
Blasphemy! That’s what I thought of Pastor Landris and his sermon. Blasphemy! Oh yes, I rebuked that. And I fully intended, after I got out of this place, to never darken this church’s doors again. But then Pastor Landris said words I’ve heard myself say to so many people over the past years of my life.
“If you died today, do you know—with certainty—where you’ll spend eternity? Because you are going to die, if you’re not caught up during the rapture; and you will spend an eternity somewhere. If you died today, do you know—with assurance—where you’ll spend your eternity? Salvation is not based on works, lest any man or woman should boast. If you’ve been living under the strongholds of merely a religious disguise, don’t gamble with your eternal life. Come…sign up for Abundant Life Assurance and make sure you’re not just covered against fire, but that you receive all you’re entitled to: full life coverage that includes among its many benefits theft protection with complete and full restoration. People, this is too important.” He held out his arms. “Won’t you come now? If you’re not sure, you can change things today. Let’s pull down some strongholds today.”
Before I knew anything, I found myself standing with a crowd of people who I’m sure, have boo-coo problems. I then heard a voice deep inside of me whisper, “Get the plank out of your own eye, before you worry about removing the splinter from someone else’s.”
I can’t help but wonder: Who was that message for? God, who here do You want me to relay that message to? Who can it be? This has to be the reason I was drawn to come up here. It must be to help someone already up here.
Has to be.
Elaine
I didn’t want to come to church, but the woman I’ve been staying with is something of a church fanatic. In fact, one of the reasons I chose to move in with her as opposed to getting my own place was because I believed she’d be a great cover.
I’ve been sort of in hiding for the past four years, just laying low until people quit looking for me. The only reason I came with her today is because Arletha is upset with the church where she has been a member for about a half a century (boring!), and she didn’t want to visit this new church by herself.
“I hear it’s rather a large church,” she said with what I’m learning to be her signature whine as she stood in my rented room in her house. “They say white people go there, so you wouldn’t feel out of place.” I didn’t bother to tell her once again that although I look white, I’m not white. “I just don’t know,” she said. “You have to be careful with some of these so-called churches.”
If I could have put her off, I certainly wouldn’t be here. But I can’t afford to get on her wrong side and get kicked out of her home. Not yet anyway.
Just last month, someone came knocking on the door where I was staying in St. Louis. The person who answered the door managed to turn him away, but still. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why, at seventy years old, I’m still such a high priority for anyone to want to find so badly after all these years. Every time I think they’ve left me alone, there’s another knock on the door or ringing of the telephone. “Yes, I’m looking for Memory Elaine Patterson Robertson,” they always say, before using the name I may be using in that place at the time.
Of course, I don’t always use my real name when I move to a place. But somehow, this private detective or whatever he is, has a way of figuring out just where I am. I barely had time to get out of St. Louis a month ago. I decided to come down deeper south this go ’round. Who will think to look for me here in Alabama, especially with Ms. Super-religious Arletha Brown answering the door? For sure, if anybody’s going to get into heaven, it has to be this straight-and-narrow woman. She can be as mean and ornery as a rattlesnake, yet she forever brags about what all she’s doing for the Lord.
I figured out early, this woman doesn’t have a clue. And quite honestly, I think she needs to buy another vowel. H
er “I this…” and “I that…” has gotten on my last nerve, and I’ve only been with her for this short time. Somebody please give her a u or an o; anything else! But like I said, she is a great cover and her home is the perfect place for me to hide until I decide on my next move. Few people seem to want to be around her; that’s a plus for me. I don’t even think Jesus has come to her house in years, if he’s ever been here at all. There’s no room for Him, especially since she seems to believe she’s saving herself, all by herself, with all of her goodie-good works.
I am getting tired of running though. This moving around…being in constant hiding in more ways than I can say, takes a toll on you. I know Lena and Theresa are still upset with me about that Alexandrite necklace. No matter what I try to tell them, they’re not going to believe me. That’s the problem when you lie and deceive people (although I wouldn’t totally say I did either): people won’t believe anything you say after that.
To begin with, that necklace was mine. I don’t care how anybody might try to spin, dice, or explain it away. In my heart that necklace has always belonged to me. I asked Lena if she knew where the contents of that wooden box were a long time ago, and she said she didn’t, which, as it turns out, she obviously did. What else was there left for me to do other than what I was forced to?
Clearly, I couldn’t just walk up to Theresa’s door, ring the doorbell, and say, “Hi, my name is Memory Patterson. Theresa, I’m your grandmother, and Lena is my daughter. I’m not really here trying to get to know either one of you better. In fact, I really only came to get a necklace I am convinced Lena has in her possession. If one of you could go and get it and give it back to me, you could save all of us a lot of trouble and heartache, and I can be on my merry little way and out of your hair for good.”
Strongholds Page 4