The "More" Factor
My heart is failing me.
It's a bit of a confession time.
My faith has changed.
I think my faith started off narrowly as a little girl growing up in a sheltered Mennonite community, attending church every Sunday – morning and evening, prayer meetings on Wednesday, and then attended a private Mennonite school for six years which included a morning devotion every day. After graduation I went off to three years of Bible school – then married a man who wanted to be a minister – studied for three years at a Mennonite College and developed a career in Mennonite organizations.
Then after the murder of our daughter, my eyes were opened to all faiths. Because of my story on forgiveness, I found myself behind the pulpit of many denomination. I was in a bit of a culture shock as I learned to love them all. I loved the liturgy of some, the evangelical spirit of others, the expressive worship, and the prayers formal and informal. It was like I took a tour of houses, which all had the same essential components to cover the basic needs of a forgiving spiritual life, but were decorated very differently according to personalities, histories and interpretations. It was fascinating, I saw the commonalities rather than the differences. It was a rich tour.
But then I do remember swerving off the beaten track a bit.
It was about 15 years after Candace’s murder and we were normalizing. Our daughter, Odia, had fallen in love with Larry, and we were getting to know him. It was around this time that our new son-in-law started talking about a Mike Bickle in the states.
We didn’t pay much attention until around five years later, when Syras fell in love with Natasha, and the two couples started talking about Mike Bickle. It had gone from one to four.
I wasn’t sure about this Mike Bickle. I wondered if he was a cult - and I expressed my concerns to both couples. Then it seemed whenever we were travelling with either couple, we would have to listen to a tape on one of his teachings. He was a good teacher. I definitely have a weakness for good speakers. I can listen to a good talk anytime – for hours. He was good.
But it was hard to assess – him… very hard. I wasn't only hearing his teaching, I couldn't seem to see past the charismatic culture that surrounded him. Charismatics aren’t cults, but they tend to be a little illogical. In fact, they are sometimes deliberately illogical. They tend to see the drama in everything.
It brought back memories of a little church at the bottom of the hill in South Abbotsford with low windows. If we were visiting my aunt and uncle on a Sunday, we as cousins would go and watch their service. We called them “Holy Rollers.” I'm embarrassed to admit that we even played a Johnny knock knock joke on them. In any case, we watched wide-eyed as the tiny congregation worshipped - singing loudly, drums and guitars, waving their hands in the air, kneeling, falling and dancing up and down the aisles. Things that we would never do in our very straight-laced pious churches. I had preconceived Ideas.
Now, as I was half-listening to Bickle teachings - sitting in the back seat of the car – I heard him say that when he started his ministry, God had been told that he should base his life's work on the Songs of Solomon. Apparently, Bickle had been obedient and had started studying it, preaching it and writing it. This original thesis/ teaching was now available as a 26-hour-long lessons on the subject. He then went on to say said that he was glad he had started with the Songs because it was the most theologically sound book in the entire Bible.
Scandalous.
I had read the Songs of Solomon with my cousins, front row seats in our church when we were bored with the German sermons. The book offered an alternative titillating and tantalizing reading . But later on – when I was actually falling in love – I reread them and thought the book out dated – not at all in touch with real romance. It seemed like an anomaly in the Bible.
Now according to Bickle, I had missed something extremely important in these pages. This was the clue that I needed to assess his heart.
So on our next vacation, Cliff and I rented a little cabin – a tiny thing in a isolated prairie wilderness park - bought the tapes and listened to each one of them taking meticulous notes. I wanted to check Bicke out thoroughly. I wanted to keep my children safe - once a mother always a mother.
Then at the end of that week, having read and heard the essence of the Songs through Bickle’s eyes, we experienced a paradigm shift – a significant one. I realized that sometimes its our children that lead us.
Stunned, and still a little unsure, I took the tapes home and that next winter I gathered a group of about seven women and we listened to all the tapes again - together.
It took us deeper.... together.
The book held a hidden promise of “more.”
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be." --William Shakespeare
It's a bit of a confession time.
My faith has changed.
I think my faith started off narrowly as a little girl growing up in a sheltered Mennonite community, attending church every Sunday – morning and evening, prayer meetings on Wednesday, and then attended a private Mennonite school for six years which included a morning devotion every day. After graduation I went off to three years of Bible school – then married a man who wanted to be a minister – studied for three years at a Mennonite College and developed a career in Mennonite organizations.
Then after the murder of our daughter, my eyes were opened to all faiths. Because of my story on forgiveness, I found myself behind the pulpit of many denomination. I was in a bit of a culture shock as I learned to love them all. I loved the liturgy of some, the evangelical spirit of others, the expressive worship, and the prayers formal and informal. It was like I took a tour of houses, which all had the same essential components to cover the basic needs of a forgiving spiritual life, but were decorated very differently according to personalities, histories and interpretations. It was fascinating, I saw the commonalities rather than the differences. It was a rich tour.
But then I do remember swerving off the beaten track a bit.
It was about 15 years after Candace’s murder and we were normalizing. Our daughter, Odia, had fallen in love with Larry, and we were getting to know him. It was around this time that our new son-in-law started talking about a Mike Bickle in the states.
We didn’t pay much attention until around five years later, when Syras fell in love with Natasha, and the two couples started talking about Mike Bickle. It had gone from one to four.
I wasn’t sure about this Mike Bickle. I wondered if he was a cult - and I expressed my concerns to both couples. Then it seemed whenever we were travelling with either couple, we would have to listen to a tape on one of his teachings. He was a good teacher. I definitely have a weakness for good speakers. I can listen to a good talk anytime – for hours. He was good.
But it was hard to assess – him… very hard. I wasn't only hearing his teaching, I couldn't seem to see past the charismatic culture that surrounded him. Charismatics aren’t cults, but they tend to be a little illogical. In fact, they are sometimes deliberately illogical. They tend to see the drama in everything.
It brought back memories of a little church at the bottom of the hill in South Abbotsford with low windows. If we were visiting my aunt and uncle on a Sunday, we as cousins would go and watch their service. We called them “Holy Rollers.” I'm embarrassed to admit that we even played a Johnny knock knock joke on them. In any case, we watched wide-eyed as the tiny congregation worshipped - singing loudly, drums and guitars, waving their hands in the air, kneeling, falling and dancing up and down the aisles. Things that we would never do in our very straight-laced pious churches. I had preconceived Ideas.
Now, as I was half-listening to Bickle teachings - sitting in the back seat of the car – I heard him say that when he started his ministry, God had been told that he should base his life's work on the Songs of Solomon. Apparently, Bickle had been obedient and had started studying it, preaching it and writing it. This original thesis/ teaching was now available as a 26-hour-long lessons on the subject. He then went on to say said that he was glad he had started with the Songs because it was the most theologically sound book in the entire Bible.
Scandalous.
I had read the Songs of Solomon with my cousins, front row seats in our church when we were bored with the German sermons. The book offered an alternative titillating and tantalizing reading . But later on – when I was actually falling in love – I reread them and thought the book out dated – not at all in touch with real romance. It seemed like an anomaly in the Bible.
Now according to Bickle, I had missed something extremely important in these pages. This was the clue that I needed to assess his heart.
So on our next vacation, Cliff and I rented a little cabin – a tiny thing in a isolated prairie wilderness park - bought the tapes and listened to each one of them taking meticulous notes. I wanted to check Bicke out thoroughly. I wanted to keep my children safe - once a mother always a mother.
Then at the end of that week, having read and heard the essence of the Songs through Bickle’s eyes, we experienced a paradigm shift – a significant one. I realized that sometimes its our children that lead us.
Stunned, and still a little unsure, I took the tapes home and that next winter I gathered a group of about seven women and we listened to all the tapes again - together.
It took us deeper.... together.
The book held a hidden promise of “more.”
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be." --William Shakespeare
RSS Feed
