The Learning Curve

I have learned a lot through this process of my marriage struggles. But nothing like in the last week or so. I had a very set idea of what a marriage should and should not be. That would have continued indefinitely if not for the interference of the Holy Spirit.

In my last post I talked about being a backslider. And I honestly thought I had come back. But it wasn’t until this last week that I actually broke. See, I had assumed that if I came back, that was enough. I had overlooked the need for breaking and repentance. I needed God to not just forgive me but to begin the process of changing me again. I had to, under survival necessity, accept the fact that I was more than wrong in some areas, I was damaged.

I’ve been crushed by what’s happened with my wife and looking back on my own actions and failures. I can’t explain the depths of despair that I’ve experienced. It was constant and crushing and completely selfish. See, I had been used to getting my own way for so long, it’s all that mattered. My life, my needs, my ministry ideas.

But then something changed. I realized that I didn’t have peace because my wife was absent and as a Christian, that should never be the case. My peace depends on Him, not another person. Somehow in my meandering, I had given up the seat on the throne of my heart to someone other than Christ. When I saw that, I began experiencing peace for the first time in what had seemed a very long time.

I wanted her back, badly, and yes, it hurt. I wanted her back. I wanted normalcy. I wanted lots of things. Not that wanting someone back is necessarily bad but as a Christian husband it should never be first, myself should never be first.

My first job is to love her as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. If she needs time and space, then I should practice self-sacrifice and give her that. I do not want to at all, believe me. Jesus didn’t especially want the cross either. I saw that this had not been true in me for a very long time and that hurts. As a leader its not about acquiescence it’s about laying your life down for others. I lost sight of that to be honest. I want in my flesh to have everything conform to my wants, needs and desires. A Godly relationship could not be more opposite. What does she need, how can I meet that need? Am I in intercession for her, selflessly? Am I doing the same for my children?

The other issue that I’ve seen is sanctifying love. Have I sanctified her by my example? Is she more like Christ because of who I am or less? I know I have failed here beyond all contestation. As a strong leader and compassionate husband and father, this should have been foremost in my mind as the Head of the family.

I’ve not seen any of these things. I’ve been very confused and lost to be honest. The fall was hard and severe. All that I can do now is serve, try and lead by example and pray.

Confessions of a Backslider

I have learned a lot over the last few years. I would have to say that most of what I learned was about myself and most of it was not good.

Especially over the last two months when everything truly began to fall apart in my life; things that were stable were no longer that way, everything that I knew as solid vanished. I found myself grasping at air as they sailed away, much like a kid trying desperately to reach the string on a balloon as it slips just out of reach of your too-short grasp.

One thing that I learned in a deeply permanent way is the thing that I want to share with whomever cares to read this. It was a hard won lesson that I probably could have explained previously as a self evident truth intellectually but I had never had the feeling of it seared so deeply or painfully into me as I do at this moment in time.

Apart from Christ, you will never be anything other than what you were before you met him.

I had walked with the Lord for over twenty years when I saw this as truth. I saw first-hand that as soon as I let go of the vine, I transformed into a man that I had believed to be long dead.

The progress and good things that the Lord had molded in me for all of those years simply vanished as if they had never been. The key revelations that had transformed my life and thinking no longer played a part in my thinking processes. The moral ground that I thought that I had gained for all of those years was simply not there any more. I was nothing more than an older version of the bully, drunk and thug that I had been all those years before.

Paul said that he knew that in him, that is, in his flesh, dwelt no good thing. And he was right, you can’t take the gains of Christ with you when you decide to walk away. They stay with the one who gave them to you- hopefully in safe keeping for your return but I don’t know if that’s promised or not.

There is a gaping chasm without Christ. It’s more than a hole that religion previously filled that you now stuff with sex or booze or money. You find yourself without a compass that you counted on, without a hope that kept you secure through the storms, without the peace that we so easily take for granted. You find yourself looking in the mirror and realizing that the person looking back at you is the REAL you. And you don’t know what to do with them. You don’t know how they feel or what they want or where they want to be. All you are sure of is your uncertainty and lack of balance. It’s not much to go with.

One thing that I am sure of is that the older me had far more that the enemy could destroy than the younger me did. Back then when I was first saved, I had a change of clothes and not much else. So the enemy tried to get me to give up the one thing that I did in fact possess- my life. When older me let go of the vine, there was much, much more to lose – such as the love of my best friend and partner for 18 years, the credibility that I had with my children, the honor that I once cherished. That’s not to mention the physical things that were up for grabs as well. I’m sure that the enemy knew that he couldn’t keep me away forever and so he moved quickly to tear up every single thing in my life that I held as precious.

By the time I looked up from feeling sorry for myself it was too late, the damage had been done. The destruction was far reaching, vast and utterly complete. Have you ever woken up from a dream to discover that you’re in a nightmare?

I was shocked when I finally came to my senses. I had mistook the gains that had been gained all those years as my own. Sure I could give lip service to God regarding his role in who I had become but the awful truth is that I really viewed them as my own. My talents, my calling, my anointing. I had become a much better person during the journey and I was quite proud of the juxtaposition between who I was and who I had become.

Believe me, when you take a skinhead, a punk that had begun leaving home at 12 and really never transitioned back- someone that was homeless and a gutterpunk, who some years spent more time in jail rather than out. A prolific seducer of girls that had no conscience about it. A drunk by 19 that was completely self absorbed and completely ruthless and totally selfish. If you can take that guy, who never had an active father to pattern himself after, if you can keep him from prison or suicide; that’s a feat. To transform him into anything resembling a loving husband or father is a miracle. To transform him into a minister? That’s just silly. But that’s precisely what God did with the raggedy life I presented to him all those years ago.

Until I let go of the vine.

It was only then, in the clear cold light of my moment of clarity that I saw the awful truth of it all. I am what I am only by the grace of God. Left to myself, I won’t help you, I will hurt you. I’m a brawler, a drunkard, violent, a liar, blasphemous, lustful, prideful, argumentative, selfish, a manipulator, a cheat and a fiend. I am not a good husband, a good provider, a good father. I’m not a friend unless I gain something from you. The list is almost literally endless. Here I thought that I was someone else, the reciprocal of all of those things. Yet here submitting itself to me was the unshakable conclusion that I tried to fight away with all of my being; Left to myself, I am the same garbage that I was before I knew Jesus.

I am filled with rage and hatred for the enemy, more so than at any point in my life, which is saying something. I am deeply ashamed of who I am without him and I stand in horror at what I am capable of when I let go. I hurt everything and everyone that God had given to me as a gift. I took something precious and handed it over to the enemy. I don’t know that I will ever recover, to be honest. At some points over the last year, I was deeply hurt by others and their actions. I still am if I meditate even briefly on what transpired. I realized something today though that altered my thinking regarding every wound that I received- all of the monsters that surround me are monsters that I created. How do you live with that?

I am finding that out now as I wander through the wreckage of my life with a stunned look on my face, the damage is complete and overwhelming. I feel like the victim of a tornado, drunk with emotion as I stumble around what used to be my home, occasionally stopping to pick up a fragment of a destroyed life that seems to have survived.

The difference that I clearly see between this moment that finds me attempting to salvage something from the most awful attack in my life and the hell that I’ve emerged from is simple and profound and unforgettable – I have come home. When I feel stress or guilt or anxiety, I no longer want a drink to dull it. Instead there is a quick search for a Holy Ghost that so quickly confirms his presence that it humbles me. This beautiful Spirit of God, this incredible being, he actually comforts ME. Me, The guy that defiled precious gifts that he blessed me with. The guy that drank himself into a stupor and cursed God for a liar. The one that hurt his beautiful wife over and over and over. Me. How could he continue to care?

At some point in our walk we must be in danger of conveying our testimony without remembering that feeling. The feeling that is best expressed by saying, “Jesus, how could you love me?”

I have found that place again. Broken, humbled, wounded beyond comprehension but I have found it. And waiting right there at the end of myself is this miracle called the Holy Spirit and this person named Jesus. My Jesus. The one who loved garbage at 19 and then did the unthinkable and still loved him over twenty years later.

You and I will never be anything other than what we were apart from Christ, my friends. So hold tightly to the vine, take no credit for any gain or any success or any power. None of it is you or I. We hold onto the hem of the Nazarene’s garment tightly and let him do what he does best- turn sow’s ears into silk purses.

Be blessed, my friends.

JC

The Corpse of God


“Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market place, and cried incessantly: “I am looking for God! I am looking for God!”

As many of those who did not believe in God were standing together there, he excited considerable laughter.

“Have you lost him, then?” said one. “Did he lose his way like a child?” said another. “Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? or emigrated?”

Thus they shouted and laughed. The madman sprang into their midst and pierced them with his glances. “Where has God gone?” he cried. “I shall tell you. We have killed him – you and I. We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon?

What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all suns?

Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space?

Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we not smell anything yet of God’s decomposition?

Gods too decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves?

It has been further related that on that same day the madman entered divers churches and there sang a requiem. Led out and quietened, he is said to have retorted each time: “What are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God?”

Friedrich Nietzsche

“Joyous Wisdom”

God is dead. What a frightening thought. To think that the universe spins out of control, perched delicately on an axis that He created, seconds or minutes or hours from the moment when the centrifugal force proves too much and the inevitable tumbling into oblivion takes place.

To think that he is gone, that our lives spent in loving service have been for nothing and no one except for a God who no longer exists.

We are faced every day with more proof that God is indeed dead. We watch the televisions here in America every night; see the massacres in Rwanda or the Genocide in Croatia. We see the young black men killing themselves in record numbers or hear stories of mothers tossing babies into dumpsters or selling them into child porn for a fix.

We as Christians insulate ourselves from the harshness of the world that we live in rather than deal with any of these things. We need more reality positioned about two inches from our face because that is the world we live in. Not the frilly interior designed pre-fab world that Christians surround themselves with.

Rather it is the dark dirt, the black-foaming sewer of real life that is right outside our doors.

It is the view of a world living in the reality of a dead god. And we have created that reality for them. We the Christians have killed god for all intents and purposes.

Like the movie from a few years ago called Weekend at Bernies. We show up for our Christian get-togethers lugging in tow a dead body that we try to present as alive. We kneel in church buildings when we should. We say all the right words. We have a spiritual excuse for every single wrong that happens.

Like a magician who specializes in luring the eye away from where it should be, we are common street hustlers and our hustle is religion.

We tell everyone that God is alive and well. We add to our repertoire several stories that we have heard that help to corroborate this fallacy. Then we sit back and perfect our inner spiritual journey while the world feeds on the filth of its own demise.

And we call it good.

We stand bloody-handed over the body that housed God. And then add insult to injury by painting the corpse up in some mock imitation of whatever representation we need at the moment. We carry that corpse up into whatever building we can afford and prop him up for all the world to see. Not to gaze at the awesome power of the creator, oh no. No, we instead prop him up so that everyone can tell that we have managed to tame him. We have him controlled by our dogma, our statement of faith, our by-laws and boards.

Its safe to come in with us, we cry, look how peaceful he is!

Shocking? Maybe. But it is also the truth. This world is dying everywhere around us while we compromise. The masses are herded over the cliffs of eternity while we posture. It is unbelievable to me. It is incomprehensible how some people can continue to choose to be asleep in the light while the world burns.

And yet here we are. Beyond all reason, here we are. We continue to worship the monument rather than the creator. We continue to make cheap excuses and formulas rather than dare to ask the questions. And so we have killed God.

We have killed him in the minds of the world that surrounds us. They see our blatant disregard for the tenets of the faith and stand in transfixed awe at our stupidity. We posture as if he is alive and blessing us but where is he?

When I see preachers in some churches driving overly expensive automobiles and being given sympathy cruises to the Bahamas, I hope that God is behind the blessing.

But I have gone out to the reservations to preach to the First Nation. I have worked with the homeless kids in downtowns across America. I have seen the preacher on the reservation that no one cares about, who works three jobs to provide not only for his family but for the church as well.

I have prayed with the preacher who has quietly endured a living hell so that the sheep are safe. I have hugged and loved the AIDS victim living out his last moments in a free hospice and been told that no church has ever come to see him because he is gay.

And I scream at the sheer audacity of these charlatan thieves. The world thinks God dead because we have settled for the lie. Rather than dare to live in the reality of God, we choose the safer path.

The disease of the church is systemic and real change can only come to it from outside of it. The church speaks to themselves for themselves and shine one another’s unused armor while the world burns and the graveyards fill with the bodies of those who have lived and died in a world where God was dead.

I know many of you recoil at me saying that God is dead over and over. But let me ask you, if he is not- could you tell me what he looks like?

Is God clean or dirty? Is he rich or poor? Is he beautiful or ugly? Is God a capitalist, placing money above the needs of the poor and degenerate among us? Is he a Republican or Democrat? Is he a socialist or communist, placing all power in the hands of the state and stripping people of their rights and identity? Is he middle class, upper class or lower class? What does he look like?

I used to think that God looked like a TV preacher or an ancient Greek God, high up on the mountain hurling lightning bolts.

But now I know the truth. God looks like the suffering, the broken and the wounded. God looks like the homeless man and the hopeless drunk. God looks like the one you would least expect because his heart is just not in the same place as ours is.

In the film Entertaining Angels, Dorothy Day, exhausted from a life of serving the outcast and the poor, runs to a church to pray. Looking up at a statue of Jesus, she breaks down and appeals to him in a raw, heart-wrenching way.

She says to God: “Where are you? Why don’t you answer me? I need you! These brothers and sisters of yours, the ones you want me to love, let me tell you something. They smell! They have lice and tuberculosis! Am I to find you in them?—Well, you’re ugly! You stink! You wet your pants! You vomit! How could anyone love you?”

But she did love them and by doing so, she loved Christ.

So, I have this to say, friends. God is not dead. We are. We have forgotten whose we are and whom we serve. We have been playing marbles with diamonds. And shame on us. Shame on us for what we have done.

But remember this one thing; Leonard Ravenhill said that revival is what happens when God gets so sick and tired of being misrepresented that he shows himself.

We need a revival of remembering, a revival of humility and meekness. We need a revival of the genuine selfless love of Christ. We need a revival of purity, power and hope.

We need a revival of true Christianity in an age of Laodicean compromise.

Because the world doesn’t need our churches or our programs, they need our Jesus and no one is talking about him anymore.

Eulogy for the American Preacher

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I am sorry. I am sad to report that preparations are underway for the funeral of someone who has been, up to this point, an American mainstay: the Preacher.

I regret to inform you all that in the event of his death, there will be no open casket or even a time of visitation, as most who would have mourned his passing in the past, today would no longer much care.

For those who are unfamiliar with the preacher, his story can be found in virtually every chapter of our American history. He is seen in the first colony that landed on Plymouth Rock and you could find him shaking the windows of Philadelphia and the rest of the 13 colonies during and after the American Revolution. It was the Preacher in those days that rallied the troops and caused the swelling of national pride as he rode far and wide in the Black Regiment.

The preacher was active on both sides of the War Between the States. D.L. Moody served as a missionary on the front, finding out if dying men were saved before they perished. And in the South, the preachers would hold impromptu baptism services whenever they could, sometimes even in the midst of battle and in full view of the enemy.

America has heard the voices of A.W. Tozer and Paris Reidhead preaching a true Prophetic call. We heard the voice of Edwards, Whitefield and Ironside, Roberts and Ravenhill tell us that God was terrifying, loving and infinitely just. They would level a room with their voices expressing the holiness of God and the depravity of man. And in their voice the depraved heard the soft and tender call of the grace of God.

And yet today in America the voice of the preacher has nearly fallen silent. And I am grieved to carry to your itching ears the somber news that the voice that we need to hear now more than ever, may never be heard from again.

The American preacher, that icon of modern religion, the last of a long and noble line, has been on an unpublished endangered species list for decades. And here at the turning of the tide, at that moment when it would seem that we need him the most, his absence leaves a hole that can be felt only by the discerning heart that longs after God.

For in these days of the soft Prophet, the buddy, the encourager and the snake-oil salesman, the voice that calls you to awaken from your hyper-grace induced slumber is not welcome. Who wants to hear someone yell in a service anyway? Who in their right mind wants a return to the days of fire and brimstone when men spoke for God and called the comfortable to repentance and the lukewarm to task? Why should I repent, change, convert, awaken, give, love, serve?

Why should I give anything back in exchange for the grace that I lavish on myself, like the murderer who desperately tries to cleanse his hands under an open tap from the blood that he has just shed?

Who would want a return to those days when the church sought those who were lost, called the prodigal home and the truth searched the hearts of the un-consecrated in the sheepfold? Many eagerly await the news, it seems, that the voice of the preacher has fallen silent for good. That the one who troubled us is gone and his like shall not be seen again anymore.

But the annals of history shall reveal the terrible truth: that should we choose to let the preacher die- we choose to let the hopes of revival and indeed, the salvation of our nation die as well.

And choose it is, have no doubt about that. We choose when we do not pray for those standing between the living and the dead, calling for reinforcements in the battle of the ages. We choose when we withhold support, we choose when we do not attend meetings and we choose when we do not invite them to our churches and communities.

We choose, all of us. And that choice is to leave this nation in the spiritual hands of the mealy-mouthed purveyors of the humanistic Gospel. It is to abandon the morals of our nation to the oversight of those who will not offend the masses- so long as they continue to give. We will give over the helm to those that would abandon absolutes for post-modern questions with no answers, leadership with no authority, eternity with no certainty and doctrine with no foundation, other than the bi-polar whims of the Adonijah that stands before you.

God help us but the church has been all but usurped by businessmen who equate spiritual success with physical numbers and money. And in order to achieve that, they say nothing that may offend. When the goal is numbers and money, why stand for truth?

Who speaks for God today, the High and Holy One that does not look at crowds but individual hearts? Do we remember that He is still the One that overturned the tables of the moneychangers in the temple as they merchandized worship? The one who desires obedience and not sacrifice? The one who rejected the mammon of this world for true riches and told us that a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his goods? Will we give over the reins of the Church to those who would attempt to crown Him with those very things that He rejected, as Tozer said?

The American Preacher is not extinct, not just yet. But he is rare enough that even spotting one deserves observance. Like the nature photographer who sees a Siberian Tiger feeding in the wild; it is not impossible but neither is it expected. And how we need him today.

God, raise up prophets once again, those who cry loud and spare not. Give us those who come to the pulpits and the streets fresh from an encounter with your Spirit in prayer. Send us those who carry in their hearts and upon their lips, hot coals from the altar of God. Give us those who are beautifully broken, who do not abuse in anger, but plead in earnestness. Give us those whose passion for you far outstrips their fear of man. Send us the Reformers, the Revivalists, the Repentant who cry for repentance, the Radicals who see no value in mere money but desire justice above all else. Send us our Whitefield and Wesley, our Edwards and Luther.

Deliver us from Adonijah and Absolom, God. And glorify yourself once again in us, in our churches, in our cities and in this land.

Final push to Cleveland

Hello friends.
We are almost ready for the big ministry push to Cleveland,  Slavic Village.

A lion’s share of the finances has come in but we find ourselves in a pinch for the last bit that will allow us to go.

We understand that this is not your backyard and we understand that you have obligations that are in your backyard.

But the Kingdom of God and the supremacy of Christ is a world issue, not just a backyard issue. Through 24 years of innovative ministry, we have seen God do wonderful things in unlikely places. We believe that Slavic Village is next on that list.

We are so certain of His calling to impact this area that we are moving our family there to start the work.

To do this, we are making this final push for the remaining $3000.00 by this coming Friday. If you can’t give all of it, we ask that you take a moment and ask God about giving a portion of it.

God bless and may the Lamb that was slain receive the reward of His suffering.

https://americanpentecost.wordpress.com/give/

Together we win,
James and Shana Smith

Outreach Center Needs

Hi friends.
I will keep this as thrifty as I can. As you know, we have been given a four bedroom property to use as a ministry base in the Slavic Village area of Cleveland. Our approach with this property will be different than anything that we have done before in ministry.

The area is in tremendous difficulties and a standard Gospel approach simply cannot work there.  With drugs, abuse, gangs and hopeless poverty shaping their daily lives, simply going to a church on Sunday and Wednesday will not fit the needs that they struggle with.

What we are being led to do is different.

The house will be used as a hub and as a prototype. It will be a hub in that Evangelists and Evangelists in training will be able to come and stay there. We will train them and use them in power (sign gift) street evangelism and outreaches. We will also hold nightly bible studies for the community and dispense food and help from the location.

It will be used as a prototype in that we are going to make it as off-the-grid, green and sustainable as possible. We want to show the poor exactly how to break the chokehold of the world system.

Remember this: we will never have DOMINION over the World System until we can be INDEPENDENT from it.

So our goal is to create a green prototype there using water catchment, solar cells, wood heat, passive solar and thermal mass materials. We are being led to then start buying up other properties, retrofitting them and giving them away to worthy families.

This is a big goal.

The first part has been completed and we need your help for the next push. Part of the money has come in to get us up and running but we are still a bit short. Most of what we need will be donated or repurposed but some things still need to be purchased or paid for.

So, we need your help today because some of this needs to be in place by this Friday.

This is a worthy Kingdom assignment,  friends. A successful chapter in Cleveland will open up the doors for Gary, Detroit and areas of New Jersey and the rust belt hit hardest by the housing market crash and subsequent rape by vultures.

This is a brand new idea and we are asking you to give today towards it, in any amount. We are believing for thousands but are happy to get tens and hundreds.

Write me at this email if you would like to be used by God in this-  you can send a check, use Wal-Mart for fast service (we are facing a deadline) or go to the blog at
https://americanpentecost.wordpress.com/give/?preview=true

Thank you and God bless!

Spirit Filled Evangelist

We are in transition as a ministry. It has been a long, strange trip and it feels like many pieces are finally falling into place. Today, one of the final pieces rolled into place as we felt the mandate to roll power gift evangelism back to the forefront of what we do.

There is an incredible lack of Spirit filled Evangelists in the church right now, they simply do not fit in with most Pastor’s personal agendas. It could be added however that most of those Pastors do not fit in with God’s agenda.

We need a return of men speaking to communities with more of the truth of the Word and a demonstration of the supremacy of Christ and less pandering to the whims of the world system with seeker sensitive church growth methods.

We have totally lost our way, my friends, and looking for yet another new church is not the answer. Those of us that feel this to be true must transition now away from a compromised system and into one based upon the manifest power of God and confrontational truth.

How badly we have swerved away from the truth is easily demonstrated. Awhile ago, I was given a gift for visiting a church on a Sunday morning. The church was an Assembly of God and they gave us June’s copy of “Today’s Pentecostal Evangel”. Inside was an article on “The Changing Face of Evangelism” and there was a picture of Billy Sunday and some hipster that I didn’t know.

Anyway, as I read, I became livid.

The first comment that caught my attention was the following, “Gone are the days when a camp meeting was a big event in town”. I thought to myself, “Okay, that’s just an opinion. It lacks foresight but I can agree to disagree with that.” Then I read further “An Evangelist supplements by providing a particular specialty that may not be the local Pastor’s strength, such as teaching on Spirit baptism.”

Um…what?

“The Evangelist complements by teaching the people from a second voice that confirms what the Pastor has been sharing with them.”

Are you kidding me? That is the job of the Evangelist in the church, to complement the local Pastor? And this was coming from the AG! I’m sorry but I don’t know what books they are handing out in Springfield for leaders to read but apparently it isn’t the Bible anymore.

The reason that we are at a .02 percent growth rate for new conversions is because the evangelist has gone as extinct as the Dodo bird. When the people who carry the anointing and calling of God that acts as the means of grace for God to save a soul are busy confirming what a Pastor is saying, no one will be getting saved. When our evangelists spend all of their time going inside churches and no time outside of it, we are in trouble. When they must “book dates” and raise money, they cannot focus on their calling because they have become businessmen instead of prophets.

How did we ever get here?

Here’s is the revelation that we must get right now: you are besieged, church. You are trapped behind the four walls of your church by the enemy outside and the only ministry that you know is to other besieged people. You are devouring one another and defining ministry gifts by what you can do while you are besieged, not by what God had intended for us as His church!

The job of an Evangelist is not to supplement a local Pastor. The job of an Evangelist is to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the world, in the world. But our Evangelists are not Evangelists anymore; they are travelling preachers with a career agenda and money on the brain. In fact, I don’t even think that I personally know an Evangelist other than Mario Murillo right now.

Let me lay this out for you- it is time and high time for a coup d’church; a radical overthrow of all of the things that we know are wrong in the system but do nothing about.

What is our current state, you ask? Well, let’s take the Moravian Church for instance, who at one time held a 24/7 prayer ministry for 100 years while sending out over 300 missionaries to areas unreached by the Gospel message. Today many of them doubt the infallibility of the very Word that scores of them gave their lives for in the past.

When those who should lead us have fallen into secularism and liberalism, it is time for a coup d’church.

Methodist women used to have “pray-in’s” where they all sat as a group in front of the doors of local taverns and prayed, refusing to move and refusing to allow anyone inside. Methodists used to hold camp meetings where God moved, people repented and were saved. They used to send circuit riders all over the country, covering rural areas with the good news. Today they are now mainstream and neither God nor the people move.

When the new wineskin becomes the old wineskin, unable to contain any new wine, its time for a coup d’church.

We could mention the Salvation Army or the Presbyterian Church and how far removed they are from the radical manifestations of revival in their past.

We could mention Pentecostals who now too dignified to have the gifts of the Spirit operate in public or the Word of Faith folks who took revelation from God and started commanding stones to become bread for their own use.

The list is too long and too painful for me because I love the church. But I cannot abide what a church does to people when it is based on lies, compromise and the world system.

The disease of the church is systemic and what change can come to it must come from outside of it, period.

We must take what we can from the past and never lose them while being sure to lose everything that came later as a result of the compromises of weak men. To be clear, I am calling for an outright revolt where it is deserved. I am calling for a coup in the church because they are simply not competent to lead us into the future.

Let us love them but get free. Let us wish them well but move on. Let us hold no malice but not compromise an instant longer. Let us harbor no bitterness but press forward.

The days of revival are coming, mark my words. But Saul’s armor does not fit and simply singing in the camp is not the battle that we were born for. There is no revival because the people that God has chosen to ignite it refuse to break free and seek him until he is found.

That is you.

You were born for better than this. You were placed on this planet for a time such as this, enginneered by God for the Hell you would see. But you have to be that person right now, throwing off all restraint and the chains of men. Because you are the change that you have been waiting for