Mathew 17:20 “Because you’re not yet taking God seriously,” said Jesus. “The simple truth is that if you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you would tell this mountain, “Move!” and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn’t be able to tackle.” (The Message)
I grew up with a Baptist mother and a Methodist father. We sometimes went to church three times a week. I did not question the routine of sitting on a hard pew with my family. I somewhat liked having time to look at the beautiful sanctuary with a very long maroon velvet curtain behind a beautiful gold cross. I listened to the minister as he read, word for word, his sermon to our congregation. I often found myself starving and believed that it was the devil that was making my stomach hurt and growl fiercely.
I liked looking at the intricate carvings in the chancel and choir areas of the church. In the summer, I watched the clouds move in the sky and heard the rustle of limp maple leaves when the stained-glass windows were open on a miserable, hot, Ohio summer morning. It was during summers that the same itinerate minister would visit. I liked his white hair and the kind cadence in which he spoke. His portly body looked stout in his black robe with a satin green stole that hung around his neck. I clearly remember the sermon when he mentioned that as a teenager, God had called him often to get serious about Jesus. Each time he heard this summons, he said, “Not yet, God, let me have fun first.” I listened to that sermon and thought having a bit of fun was well within reason while I was young. Later, I, too, would be serious.
I graduated from high school in 1970 when the Vietnam War was raging. Kent State had happened and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s “Four Dead in Ohio” was ringing in my ears while I was moving into our dorm. Life seemed out of control. I did not even hear God say, “Becky, what about Jesus?” The Methodist Church seemed very far away.
My college years were wild and serious, full of questions and deep harm.
The summer before my senior year, after a darkly abusive violation by a professor I remembered the faint mustard seed faith of my childhood and ran to Jesus with abandon.
My life and friends changed in a blink of an eye.
A few years later I married a seminarian and signed up to be a minister’s wife with little worldly possessions and a serious heart to love and care for others. I was ready to live a simple and plain life. I was passionate about having children and my God-fearing husband said that would happen only after I memorized the Shorter Catechism and after we had saved enough money for a down payment for a home. I took his words seriously and studied and saved my tips from waitressing. I knew he was stalling out of terror and figured I could beat back his fear with a feat of memorization.
The pastorate gave way to two other degrees and a Ph. D. replaced his M. Div. and I trusted that God was calling Dan away from the pulpit to become a counselor. The good news, it paid a bit better than a minister. The bad news, he traveled a lot. And I missed him.
It was exactly thirty years ago in December that I had the opportunity to attend the first Recovery Week Dan led in Warsaw, Indiana. I had heard that a woman often begins to ponder her own story after marrying and having children. Andrew was ten months old and almost weaned. There were things stirring in my heart and being able to leave the house during the day for six days sounded attractive.
I loved and trusted the colleagues who were working alongside my husband in the area of sexual abuse. This new venture seemed to be an awesome opportunity to be with nine other women who had registered for teaching, group work, individual counseling and time to be with other women and reflect on our lives.
No one knows when life will change. It comes in a phone call, a passing encounter with a stranger, or attending a dream that rises in one man’s heart. How could I predict or arrange for a man I blessed to pursue his dream to create a process that would unearth the nightmares of my past abuse? How could I know this man that I married would move mountains of debris in both of our lives simply by letting a small seed grow in him?
Truly, those six days changed me for a lifetime. Hands down, it was the greatest gift that I have given to myself. There have been over 120 Recovery Weeks in the past thirty years and as glorious as they are, they are but a small, almost infinitesimal part of the glory God grows when anyone takes a risk to create goodness on behalf of others. Write your poem—it is a mustard seed gift. Start your business—it is going to move mountains. Go back to school, attend a recovery week, sing the song he wrote for you to offer the heavens—it is the seed that will feed many for generations to come.
Becky Allender lives on Bainbridge Island with her loving, wild husband of almost 40 years. A mother and grandmother, she is quite fond of sunshine, yoga, Hawaiian quilting and creating 17th Century reproduction samplers. A community of praying women, loving Jesus, and the art of gratitude fill her life with goodness. She wonders what she got herself into with Red Tent Living!
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Oh, Becky! Thank you for your faithfulness to follow and bless the dreams of the visionary you love…your risk and faith have brought hope and renewed life to so many! Much love to you and Dan. Christine
Dear Christine, thank you for YOUR faithfulness in a myriad ways: to your husband, children, parents, siblings, students, neighbors, and on and on. Your spirit is forever kind and one that blesses. Love back to you.
Becky, you encourage us to take those small, vulnerable, life changing steps that have potential to bless not only ourselves but so many others. Thank you for your encouragement and for sharing a part of your story with grace and beauty.
Barbara, thank you for thanking me and I thank you right back at you! You encourage me…and others so beautifully.
Becky, as I wrote in my post last week I am a recipient of food that came from the choices you and Dan made to water that seed dream. Happy 30th Anniversary of your first recovery week, there is much to be celebrated in those 30 years. So much darkness has been pushed back and the kingdom of God advanced because of you two and those who have joined you in the battle. I am profoundly grateful, and forever changed.
Tracy, I loved reading your valiant entry. I love that you encouraged me to remember the ten year old Becky…whom I have not thought of for a very long time. Thank you for what you do to push back the darkness and bring light to so many others.
Becky, thank you for your part in the very public ministry you and Dan have embraced. Your encouragement, wisdom and sound thinking have blessed and freed him to do what he does so well. Your words here are thought-provoking and life-altering each time you write. God bless you.
Becky, I appreciate your encouragement and thoughtfulness. Your compliment was stunning and I will hold it for quite awhile. God bless you.
I am thankful God protects seeds whether they are haphazardly or intentionally planted … He brings the harvest!!! I have not done a recovery week… but my time going through the lay counseling program was such an important part of my new launching in my 60… so thankful for that you and Dan have done and continue to do for others to find freedom!!!
Ro, you are so very welcome and yes…to all seeds that God plants. Thank you for what you do to be apart of that.
Ro, I am grateful for the seeds you plant along with God in your ministry of love and care and encouragement for others. WOW…I did not remember that you were 60. I am so grateful that the lay counseling program was a good experience.
Dear Becky,
I look forward with anticipation and joy
to your writings. I am forever grateful and honored for the place you and Dan have in my life. God’s faithfulness and the planting of seeds in deep, still and often tumultous waters are lovingly painted through your words.
I was 60 years old when I stepped over the threshold of the doorway to the Seattle School. My life forever changed and the seeds nurtured during that part of my journey are experiencing the light of redemption. My youngest daughter, now in her middle years, will be applying to the School in 2019. My heart leaps for joy!
Keep sharing your story Becky! My soul is fed.
Blessings,
Marie
Marie, I am forever grateful for the honored place that you have in MY life, Marie. Your words are a balm and how odd and brave and glorious you are to have come to the school and study at 60 years of age! You are a rock star. And…I can hardly wait to meet your youngest daughter. (I trust that she is a chip off the block and, therefore, we certainly be accepted!
That first line! Yes. I grew up with a Methodist preacher who had turned baptist…little different twist but so relatable. I felt so many things reading this: compassion for your hungry girl, horror for your college self, laughter as you described the memorization (seriously?!) and pride at your courage when you stepped into your story. Thank you for writing. Your book has journeyed with me in this fall of transition. Your last paragraph here calls to my deep spaces of knowing.
~Joanna
Joanna, you bless me. You spur ME on! I love what you have signed up to tackle. I love that your power and care for others will be able to spread even farther than ever with this next degree. And, yay….exactly!!!! That was a crazy feat of memorization. I still have the green leather journal with each question and answer. Sadly….I remember very little. But I am grateful that the heart never forgets. Bless you in your studies!!
“The chief end of Becky is to glorify God and enjoy him forever!” Thirty years. Thirty years! Some of the most precious days of my life embedded in those years; days for which I am forever indebted. Thank you for cultivating the small, daily, hidden seed so that it could explode with the life of Jesus. I am grateful.
Dear Jan, Yes!! I remember your passionate care for others as you facilitated Recovery Weeks. I am grateful that our paths crossed and we have each other woven in one another’s hearts. Thirty years!!! Crazy, right? Dan continues to say that it is the pinnacle of his ministry. Since my Recovery Week I attended, I’ve always called them “Turbo Holy Spirit”. So much happens each day and the healing just keeps coming. Love and hugs to you and Steve.
❤
Turbo is a good description. And each one with its own unique fingerprint. The most worshipful weeks of my year, each year.
“It was during summers that the same itinerate minister would visit. I liked his white hair and the kind cadence in which he spoke.” Amazing how people who, in the most obvious ways, aren’t a significant part of our life, and yet have such incredible impact in even brief moments like this. I love stories like that, probably because it is my experience as well. I relate as well to the longing to be a mother, and a husband who liked to argue all the “rational” reasons for sticking to the 5 year plan. I would have been sunk if it depended on memorizing catechism!
Like so many others, my life was completely changed by my Recovery Week experiences – and as incredible the insight and healing I experienced in my stories of harm with Dan’s kind pursuit, just as much etched in my memory are the moments I was able to sit with you as you so kindly and fiercely prayed over me. I am forever grateful for the ways you continue to say yes to Jesus and this holy work.
Janet, yes…life is amazing when sentences linger that direct us!! I am very grateful that you loved being at a Recovery Week. And…that is huge to say that it was “completely changed”! WOW.
Oh my, “rational five year plan”!! Seems our husbands are cut from the same cloth!!!! Love and hugs, to you and Chris.