The following is a rant. Not my best, but a rant, nonetheless.
My 72 year-old mother (with Alzheimer’s!) has been missing without a trace for FOURTEEN DAYS.
Last week, after the story ran on the local news, I emailed my Pastor, Rev. Dr. Alyn E. Waller. Along with introducing myself, I made a very simple, doable request….that he include my mother in the corporate prayer that following Sunday. It didn’t require any extra effort on his part, so I figured that he might actually follow through on helping me this time.
I went to church that Sunday. He was present–for a change. When the time came for corporate prayer, he made no mention of my mother. I stayed for the entire service, just to make sure, because he’s been known to interject announcements at any time during worship. Nothing. A wonderful, insightful sermon, but nothing about praying for my mother’s return.
Okay.
I know what you’re thinking, because I’ve already thought it:
- That’s what happens in organized religion!
- That’s what happens in a mega-church, when the pastor doesn’t even know your name!
- That’s how these big-time preachers are now!
- Just leave!
Yes, these thoughts have entered my mind, and then they promptly exited. I will not go to the dark side, renounce my faith, or curse God and die. Why? Because I know better than that.
Let me be clear about where I am: I love being a Christian, even though it’s not easy being one right now. I will never abandon my relationship with God, because I did that once before, and the process of getting that back was not fun. I’m tired of hopping from church to church, trying to find a place where I can worship freely. Thinking that Enon was that place, I promised God that I would not leave until He gave me a church to plant.
I am that rare breed that believes in keeping my promises, especially those I make to God.
My pastor is a good man, and God absolutely speaks through him when he’s preaching. As MY pastor, with all of the expectations that come with that, he has dropped the ball. For whatever reasons, he was not available to me when I needed a pastor. I was forced to tell people who have asked me, “what’s your church doing to help find your mother?” that I am still waiting—after two weeks—for my pastor to get back to me.
Not a good feeling.
Nevertheless, I’m good. I learned a long time ago to keep my eyes off people. Pastors are people, and people make mistakes. People let me down on a daily basis. God’s people have CONSISTENTLY let me down. I thought that it would be different this time, but it wasn’t.
None of that is God’s fault.
Despite my spiritual leader’s non-involvement, prayers for my mother go up every day, and it’s working. How do I know? Because I have a handful of prayer partners and intercessors who, when they say that they’ll pray, I KNOW that they will pray. Legions of officers are searching. Volunteers are searching AND circulating flyers. Social media is spreading the news like wildfire
And I am praying. Sometimes alone, sometimes with Jenise, but always I am praying. My prayers are just as good as my pastor’s.
Better.
Because she’s MY mother.
End of rant. I’m going to put in some more crocheting time.
