Strongholds. Vanessa Davis Griggs
aren’t always sins. Some people are people-pleasers,” Pastor Landris said. “That’s not a sin, but it can be a stronghold. Food. Various drugs. Some people might be habitual liars. It’s not one of the Ten Commandments, though it is addressed in the Bible. It’s a major character flaw, and can be a stronghold. Believe it or not, even things we think of as being good things can be strongholds. How many of you work so much you neglect to spend time with your family? As great and noble a virtue as honest, hard work is, if you’re not careful, work can be a stronghold. Being married to a person who beats on you—abusing you physically and mentally—and staying in that marriage because you vowed ‘until death do us part,’ which may very well happen sooner than you think, can be a stronghold. Anything with a hold on you, anything that controls you instead of you controlling it, is a stronghold.”
So today, I’ve made the decision I will take back my life. Satan has deceived me in the most clever of ways for long enough. I’m a workaholic. Today, I’m breaking my stronghold. I’m going into the enemy’s camp, and I’m getting my family back!
Arletha
This was my first visit to this church, Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center. When I saw that preacher stand up with that long hair, I started to get up right then and there and walk out. There are just certain things I believe and don’t believe in, seeing as I was practically raised in the church. If anybody should know…I should. One thing I know: women ain’t supposed to be wearing pants in church. I don’t care what folks say. And for sure, men ain’t got no business with hair that’s longer than mine, looking like some woman.
I’ve been running for Jesus a long time, and all these newfangled philosophies people are trying to introduce into the Lord’s house just ain’t gonna fly with me. I don’t believe you can be saved just by confessing your sins and believing on Jesus. Now don’t go get all confused about what I just said. I do believe on Jesus, Lord knows I believe in Jesus. But the notion that all you have to do to get into heaven is to just confess you’re a sinner, then accept Jesus as your savior and that’s it—you’re now guaranteed a place in heaven without proving you’re worthy—is a bunch of hogwash! Excuse my French. But frankly, I’m tired of people telling and buying into that lie.
The Bible clearly tells us we must work while it’s day because when night comes, no man can work. I joined the church sixty years ago, after I’d just turned six. It didn’t take me long to make the decision, like it seemed to have taken many of the others. I knew back then that God had a call on my life, and I’ve been working in His vineyard ever since. Why do I work, you ask? ’Cause I want to get into heaven. I only pray I will have done enough to make it in. I want to hear my Lord say to me on that great day, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant. Come on up a little higher.” For sure I don’t want to hear, “Depart from me; I know you not.”
That’s why I’m in church every time the door opens. Trying to be good enough to make it into heaven. Trying to ensure the Lord remembers me. I believe He’s keeping a record of our attendance, and everything we do and don’t do.
I attend Sunday school every Sunday. I’m secretary of the Missionary Society, a faithful doorkeeper, president of the senior usher board. In fact, I’m so diligent on my usher job, nary does a gum chewer get past Ms. Arletha Brown. I run the floors of the church with an iron fist.
“Ms. Arletha, do you ever smile?” one of those little fast teenagers, Sister Penny’s oldest daughter, asked me a few weeks back.
Who’s got time to be smiling? “I’ll have plenty of time to smile once I get to heaven,” I said. “Ain’t a thing to smile about down here. The devil is busy and he wants nothing more than for me to miss getting into heaven. I’m on my job, little girl, and I expect Jesus will smile when He sees me coming. Now, y’all go on somewhere and set down,” I said as I gave her and her little friends my best frown, “like I done told you to. And don’t be over there talking during service, ’cause I will escort you out if I have to.”
Them children started laughing like something was funny. Ain’t a thing funny about going to hell. A lot of folks are gonna miss heaven and bust hell wide open! Just watch and see. And them same folks who think I’m some kind of a religious fanatic gonna be the main ones begging me to dip my finger in water and cool their parching tongues. Well, they can forget about that. ’Cause I’m working too hard now, trying to make it into heaven myself while they’re laughing and carrying on like tomorrow is promised. If folks want to stroll past those pearly gates and walk on streets paved with gold, they best be trying to follow in my footsteps.
Six days a week, you’ll find me working the church door, manning the aisles, or sitting reverently on a pew with my Bible in tow every one of those days. On the seventh day, I rest, just like God did. I only hope I’ll have done enough to make it in.
Folks around here be treating their salvation like it’s a game or something. Well, my eternal life ain’t no plaything.
I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. I ain’t never done or even tried to do drugs. In fact I’m so committed, I won’t even take aspirins for my headaches. I don’t cuss. I ain’t never gambled a day in my life. I don’t lie; I tell folks the truth and I don’t care whether it hurts their feelings or not. I don’t overeat. In fact, I do some type of fasting at least once a month. Most times I do a three-day, no food fast. But I have done the Daniel Fast (ten days in a row) where you eat fruits, vegetables, and nuts; no meat, sugar, or caffeine.
When I pray, I get down on both my knees, and I pray for at least an hour. My head does not hit the pillow until I have read my Bible a minimum of one hour, every single night. I give money to the poor. I pay my tithes. I give offerings. Well, at least I did pay tithes and offerings up until a few weeks ago when I decided to leave where my church membership has been for the past forty-six years in search of a new church home.
I confess: I don’t agree with my soon to be ex-pastor and his decision to start allowing them young people to be doing that dancing and junk in the Lord’s house like all these other churches have begun to do here lately. I tried talking to Pastor Rainey and the deacons, but they seem bent on following the popular, worldly ways of late—trying to get more people to come to church and fill up some of those empty pews. Just selling out.
I figure if folks don’t want to come…too bad. We shouldn’t change the type of songs we sing just because the attendance has fallen off and folks are flocking to all these other churches. Contemporary gospel, hip-hop gospel, gospel rap, praise dancing: whoever heard of such nonsense! When will folks get it? Church is supposed to be dull and boring. I figure that’s how the Lord can tell who’s sincere and who’s not. People want to start changing everything, liven things up. Cutting out testimony service. Talking about folks holding too long just because they want to get out of church earlier. Wake up, people! These are the last days.
I contend if it was good enough for my mother, good enough for my father, then it’s good enough for me. The only person I can do anything about is me. And I’m just trying to make sure if nobody else does, I’m gonna make it to heaven. I ain’t got time for folks who don’t care about their own soul. Folks reading all kinds of filthy magazines and books, sleeping with any and everybody, smoking, doping, lying, cheating—sinning like there’s no tomorrow. You can’t hardly walk into a store these days without half-naked men and women jumping out at you off the covers of stuff. And the TV, Lord, you talk about an idle mind being the devil’s workshop. I have to protect my eye and ear gates.
Then I heard it. This Pastor Landris fellow said it, while the devil (I know it was him) tried—for a minute there anyway—to tell me this long-haired, ungodly man was talking to me.
“And some of you sitting here today are plagued by a stronghold of religion. You think you’re going to make it into heaven based on what you do here. You think you can live right enough and good enough to get in,” Pastor Landris said. “Well, let me tell you something. You cannot live good enough to make it into heaven. You don’t get into heaven based upon your works. Church, none of us are good enough. That’s why Jesus had to come. We are saved by grace. When you brag about what you’re doing that’s going to get you into heaven, it’s