In the winter of Hannah’s 5th grade year, a fellow PTA mom invited me to join a Bible study she attended. Our church did not have a women’s Bible study, and I knew my spiritual life was in rough shape. Plus, I felt ashamed to not go. It was once a week, yet it was one of the hardest commitments I had ever made. Each time I walked into that church, I felt such shame. It was as if I was walking through the hallway naked. I cannot think of another time in my life I have ever felt so uncomfortable. You would think I’d have recognized this as evidence of my sinful heart, but I was deeply deceived. I had fully given myself over to vain and selfish pursuits.

This was in 2001. We lived in small town on the New England seacoast. I loved living there, and our little family had a very nice life. Doug earned a generous salary that afforded me a very comfortable, stay-at-home life doing whatever pleased me. That included volunteering at our daughter’s school.

I was an ambitious volunteer, eager to make a place for myself amongst the PTA moms. By the end of Hannah’s 4th grade year, I had proven myself enough to be elected Co-President. I was delighted, because I loved running the show, being a big fish in that tiny, little pond. I cannot believe now how much value I placed on something so insignificant, but I did. It was all about me. I said it was all about the children—especially my own—but I was deceiving myself.

As I write this now, I can see how the Enemy had gotten a hold of my heart. I had such good and sincere motives when it all began, but I was investing my talents and energy into something that was corrupt at its core. Why was I expecting a secular organization, fueled by greed, to do what was right for the children? Why was I expecting them to have integrity? Why was I trying to make them see the injustice of their priorities? And, why was I giving endless hours of my time to help everyone else’s children, while time with my own daughter was often compromised by those “important” civic meetings?

Yet, despite the fact the Holy Spirit was so faithful to shine the light of truth on that situation, I just kept pressing on. “I’ll just write one more editorial.”  “I’ll just come up with an even better fund-raiser.”  “I’ll just ask for one more meeting.” It didn’t matter what we were trying to do. My motives were good, and there was just enough success from one month to the next to keep me thinking it was all worth it, but my heart was wicked.

Then, something happened. Something very unexpected, that took me totally by surprise.

It was April. I sat in a circle with the other nice ladies in that Bible study, Bibles and folders in our lap. The leader of the group asked a question that hadn’t been in our study notes. She asked us to just say the first thing that came to mind, without analyzing it. You know how we tend to do that sometimes?

Now, before I share her question, I want to ask you to do the same. Don’t analyze the question. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Her question was: “What would you do, if you knew for sure that Jesus Christ was coming (the Rapture of the church) in six months?”

The answer that came to my mind, before I could stop it, diffuse it, or edit it, shocked me to my core.

“I would support my husband’s ministry.”

What?! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing myself say, but I knew any other answer would be a bold face lie. Yet, didn’t I already support him? Hadn’t I encouraged him in everything he did for the Lord? After all, he wasn’t called to full-time ministry. He was just a church volunteer, playing his instrument, leading worship. How did I not support him?

Quick as a flash, my head played back the countless times in recent years that he’d given time to a PTA event, or stayed home with Hannah so I could go to a meeting. I thought of the many, many times he was the only father present at events, because I’d asked him to take a day off to help.

I honestly did not have to try to remember anything, because the flood of condemning memories just kept coming.

But, wasn’t he just very supportive? Wasn’t it good for him to help?

I hate to say this, but I just didn’t get it. I prayed a prayer of some description before the Bible study finished, committing myself, asking for help, blah, blah, blah. Then, I went home and went back to work. I talked myself right out of that Holy Spirit conviction.

June came. The Bible study had ended for the summer, and 5th grade was coming to an end, too. Hannah would soon be promoted to the junior high. PTA elections were held, and I was unanimously voted-in to continue my reign, and I made sure there would be no more co- in my title. I had been saddled with a dead weight co-president long enough. I wanted the title I deserved.

It’s true.

I was really that wicked, that puffed-up. I was shameless. I was good at my job, though. I got things done. Was any other mom willing to work as hard as I did? It was disgusting how much I worked, and disgusting how wicked I’d become, but I kept telling myself I was doing a good thing.

So, at the beginning of June my big production, the Volunteer Appreciation Banquet, was coming together beautifully. I’d done all the Teacher Appreciation Week gifts myself, and did the Volunteer Appreciation gifts myself, too. Food was arranged. Beautiful invitations had been designed by yours truly, and each was mailed in an envelope I’d addressed myself. The big event was just days away. I essentially had my crown on order for the coming year at the junior high. It had been the best year anyone could ever recall, and everyone told me so. The Superintendent and School Board respected me and consulted with me. Teachers appreciated me. Parents depended on me.

And, then it happened.

I woke up one lovely, warm, and sunny day and couldn’t speak. I could barely swallow. I had an extreme case of strep throat. I went to bed perfectly well, and woke-up sicker than I could ever remember being. I hadn’t been exposed to strep, and no one I knew could think of anyone they knew with strep—it’s not a common disease in June. Yet, I was sick, nonetheless. Stuck in bed. Speechless, powerless, and all alone.

I knew almost instantly that this was an act of God.

For almost two weeks, I sat in bed silent. I couldn’t even whisper. I had to turn everything over to my co-president. She’d call with questions, and I’d write the answers down for Doug to tell her for me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. And, I was not just speechless, I was sick. I had no strength, no will to get out of bed. The big event, the pièce de résistance I’d been planning for over a year, would go forward without me.

But, during that season of silence, God finally got me to stop and listen. And, He had one thing to tell me: “Come home.”

Within weeks, my husband’s was going to take a dramatic change. My purpose in his life was going to be turned upside down, and finally defined according biblical truth and not human tradition. I had no idea what was ahead of me, but God knew. And, He knew I was unprepared and ill-equipped. I had proudly and foolishly ignored His calls to repentance, awareness, and preparedness. I needed to be humbled, and I needed to come home in every way.

“Today, if you will hear His voice,
Do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion.” 
Hebrews 3:13-15 (NKJV)

God bless you all. ❤