Dear Pastor Dan

Dear Pastor Dan,

It's been years.  I hope you're doing well and I pray your family is thriving and healthy.

I'm writing you today because of something you said to me so many years ago and I'm wondering if you understand the long-term and deeply unhealthy effects those words have had on me and my family. 

There were two pastors at the mega-church where we both served who made sweeping changes that impacted and changed the spiritual landscape of my family forever.  Those changes centered around my involvement in the church as Director of Drama Ministries and were based SOLELY on misinformation, judgment, condemnation, and the gossip of a few.

You said to me then, "Liz, you're on a dangerous path.  God has put these men in authority over you and your family.  You need to submit to that authority."

I wonder.  Is that the advice you have given to your own daughters?  "I know your pastor has yielded to gossip and innuendo, but God demands that you submit to that authority."  Or would you counsel a daughter in a bad marriage in this way? "I know your husband has assaulted you physically, mentally and spiritually, but this is the man God chose for you.  You must submit to his authority." (My abusive ex-husband used that tactic.)

Let me be VERY clear.  The Bible and scripture did NOT give those pastors the authority to undermine my involvement and leadership or to throw a child with a learning disability out of church because he was "too hard".  They used scripture as their excuse.  YOU used scripture as their excuse.  It was their sin that caused them to act with such thoughtless short-sidedness.  It was their sin - plain and simple. 

I wanted to serve God and to follow Him fully with all my heart, soul, gifts and talents.  I yielded to the whim and will of the good-old-boy religious hierarchy because I wanted to be a good Christian woman, wife and mother.  I did not want to be on the "wrong" path and I took your words to heart.

But you were wrong!

Scripture does NOT give authority to use, abuse, condemn, or throw out one of God's kids.  Women have been kept down by The Church for too long!  Enough is enough!

If there is reason for confrontation, Jesus laid out the steps that lead to reconciliation and restoration.  Anything short of those steps is wrong.  We must call it what it is - EVIL.

I followed the above mentioned steps and was pushed away over and over again.  I've accepted that there will never be restoration for me and my family.

I forgive you.

I forgive those good-old-boys who chose one another over truth.

I choose to love as Jesus loved, go where Jesus goes, and to tell the truth!  

I choose to call out evil when I see it.  

And to all the Pastor Dans out there, may your eyes be opened and may the scales fall from your eyes.  

Sill searching,

Liz Stoeckel

It Wants Your Children

It’s Wild Ride Wednesday. Here’s another crazy excerpt from the journey that is our life.

I crawled into bed after another very long day. Tom was out of town and all three of the kids were home. Dallas had just turned 19, Drew was almost 17, and Giana was nearly 16.

We’d made it through Thanksgiving, but Christmas and New Year’s Day were just around the corner. I wanted only to get through the holidays with little drama.

Every day brought a new and terrible revelation. We knew Dallas was on drugs and we suspected Giana was using as well. When you’re dealing with drug addicted kids (and young adults) you have to be very careful.

Even though we believed they were using drugs, we couldn’t make accusations without real facts to back up what we knew in our hearts. You see if the drug addict thinks he or she is about to be found out, they will bury the secrets even deeper and tell better lies.

The addict’s deceitfulness must be challenged with real information that can supported with hard facts. Otherwise they will retreat further and could be lost forever.

Tom and I couldn’t relax for a moment. We had to keep our eyes and ears open all the time. I covertly listened in on one end of suspicious phone conversations, intercepted mail, sifted through pockets, had nonchalant conversations with chatty school friends, and frequently searched bedrooms and backpacks.

It was around midnight. The crisp pine scent from the large Christmas tree in the front room filled the house. Chilly air wafted in through my open bedroom window. I could smell smoke from the smoldering fireplaces in the neighborhood. I was just starting to dose off when something woke me.

I heard a clanging and clattering in the hallway.

I got out of bed, opened my bedroom door, and looked into the long narrow walkway leading to the front room. I saw a thick black smoke-like substance stretching the length of the hall and hugging the ceiling.

The thing seemed to actually have arms that were reaching over the top of each of the three closed doors and was slithering through the tiny cracks between the door and its frame. It wasn’t trying to get into my room—just the rooms of my children.

I’ve looked into the eyes of evil before, and even then I felt peace and calm. This was no different.

I shut the door to my bedroom and crawled back into bed. I pulled the covers up around my neck and I prayed.

“Dear God, what is that?”

I heard a voice. “It’s the spirit of sexual promiscuity, and it wants your children.”

I prayed more.

Less than a month later Dallas left and would essentially be homeless for months. He and his sister nearly died from their addictions.

God gave me peace in the midst of the storm and in the face of evil. He gave me wisdom so I would know how to pray for my kids.

Wild Ride Wednesdays

I’m starting a new feature today called, “Wild Ride Wednesdays”. Life’s journey is full of twists, turns, and topsy-turvy rides.

I’ve ridden the proverbial roller coaster of life up to the highest highs, and into the tunnels, crazy dips, and unexpected bends. Along the way I’ve also seen downright crazy stuff. So, I thought I’d tell you one whacky story every Wednesday. And the best part is—they’re all true. Enjoy the first installment of “Wild Ride Wednesdays”.


Cool Breeze of Peace

My little apartment was stuffy and the tiny cooling unit on the wall in the front room couldn’t cut through the oppressive heat. Summers in Fresno, California are ugly. If you don’t have a good air conditioner, you’d best get yourself to a mall, movie theatre, or swimming pool—and fast!

Dallas was six months old, and had been unhappy all day long. I felt sure it was the heat. I gave him a cool bath, filled a bottle with icy water, and put him to bed for the night. I walked past the second bedroom and I heard my then-husband mutter, “You’re in love with someone else”.

He wasn’t going to start something tonight, was he? Really? The heat was stifling both inside and outside the apartment. I just wanted to sit on the couch, watch a little television, and try to stay comfortable. He persisted. “I know you’re in love with someone else.”

I stood in the doorway of the bedroom. The man I’d been married to for 2 ½ years sat at a drawing desk—his back to me. We’d had happy times, and for a few months just after Dallas’s birth it seemed that my husband had been putting his demons behind him. He was waging a mostly losing battle with cocaine.

I’d been beaten down, sometimes physically, but the emotional abuse was the toughest to deal with.

“What are you talking about?” I asked the question, but I didn’t expect a rational answer.

A few months before, I would have been scared. But, becoming a mom had given me a newfound confidence and a burst of courage. “I’m not in love with anyone else”, I said. He wouldn’t turn and look at me, but he repeated the accusation—this time with more force. “You’re in love with someone else!”

“Fine”, I acquiesced, “I’m in love with somebody else. You tell me who.” I wanted this stupid conversation to be over. For the first time since he opened his mouth, he turned to look at me. My husband had beautiful blue eyes, but my heart leapt into my throat when I saw his face. His blue eyes were brown!

He opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn’t his voice. He spoke in a hushed, deep tone, and in slow, deliberate syllables. “I know who you love.”

I felt a calm wash over me like I’d never known before. I walked into my bedroom, lay down on the bed, and prayed. “God,” I said, “I wasn’t talking to a man in there. That was evil. I can’t fight whatever that was on my own. Please, take care of this for me.”

You see...I believe I was talking to an evil spirit, and the “someone else” I loved was God. A few short days later, my husband walked out of my apartment and I never saw him again.

God gives peace in times of storm. On that balmy summer night in 1985, God gave me a cool and comforting breeze.