Whatever Happened to Those Seeds You Planted?

How the birds brought about a surprising plot twist...

This week a curious thing happened. I got a notification that my university campus ministry leader from way back in the day (we’re talking 1980s) started following me here on Substack. I don’t really know how Dave found my blog because I haven’t used my previous married name in years, nor been in touch with anyone from that life era.

Seeing Dave’s name brought about a walk down memory lane for me. He was not only my college ministry leader; he also officiated the wedding of my first marriage in 1985. What I remember about him was that he was a seemingly genuine, kind, fun-loving, and gentle-mannered man who tirelessly poured out his life for spiritually hungry college students. He has faithfully remained dedicated to college campus ministry for more than four decades. Back then (and I’m sure also now), he was all in—in the Christian sense—making disciples and disciple-makers, just as a good steward of the Great Commission should be doing. He is actually one of the few spiritual leaders from my past that earned my unwavering respect and admiration for his pure-intentioned, steady devotion to the mission through service to others. At least, that’s how I always perceived him.

When I saw Dave’s name in my inbox, I’ll admit that a little part of me felt a moment of “religious shame.” Not because I’m doing anything wrong, or because I should feel shame. But because there is the tiny remnant of my old religious programming that reminds me of how a Christian leader I once looked up to would see me now. I wonder what impressions or reactions someone like Dave would have toward me now if he were to read any one of my posts here, or my book, Raising Hell.  I can still feel the old Christian certainties and, therefore, judgments.

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I imagine he would immediately call to mind the parable of the farmer scattering seeds. Dave would think, “This is where I planted seeds, but apparently, they fell on hard soil and the birds came and ate them. What a tragedy!”

Other thoughts Dave might have:

·      This is what happens when a Christian gets out of fellowship. We know the enemy prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.

·      This is also what happens when a woman does not submit to the headship of a godly man, or to the authority and guidance of the inerrant Bible and her pastor.

·      The thief was already here to kill, steal, and destroy.

·      Narrow is the gate that leads to life and only a few find it. This former student has succumbed to the wide gate that leads to destruction.

Most of us know quite well all the “dangers” of getting off the prescribed Christian path. The list above is the condensed version. Even just writing down those verses and “Christianisms” causes me to wince at the absolute wrong use of power and mind control. The way I now see the “Christian cancel culture,” it’s upside down from what Jesus taught and intended for his fellow brothers and sisters.

Where did those seeds land anyhow?
I remember in college when Dave conducted personality tests on the ministry discipleship leadership team. When I met with him for my results, he told me that my personality type was one out of which many writers often emerged. This excited me because even back in my first college experience, I wanted to be a writer. Actually, I knew I would be a writer. Still though, any encouragement was more than welcome! In my view, this was the most important seed that Dave planted in my heart and mind.

In my early thirties, through some unexpected synchronous events—namely a random, unsolicited flyer in my mailbox—I attended a large Christian writer’s conference. This was the single event that launched my writing career. Through that experience, I began mixing in the company of editors of major Christian media and publishing houses, finding myself on track to launch into the big leagues of Christian publishing. In the first five years, I had begun teaching at the same writer’s conference, and had earned my own position writing editorial blogs on CBN.com and Crosswalk.com, producing content on any spiritual growth topic I desired (even in those days I thought Pat Robertson was totally cray, but I wasn’t going to miss such an opportunity over it). I also wrote regularly for major Christian magazines and landed a lucrative writing contract with Thomas Nelson Publishers working on devotional materials for teen girls.

All of those opportunities, through a series of even more radical synchronicities, led me to India in 2007 where I met with M.A. Thomas (“Papa”),  the founder of a Christian orphan relief ministry operating throughout India and Haiti, and the “Papa” to thousands of orphans by that time. This came about through Cheryl, a contact I met through CBN.com, who asked if I’d be willing to do some pro-bono promotional writing for an orphan ministry she was representing as a media marketing agent. I was intrigued enough to get involved. I was already going to India in 2007 to teach at a writer’s conference, organized by one of the faculty of the other writer’s conference I was now teaching at yearly. At the last minute, that writer’s conference fell through but I already had my ticket. What to do? I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to travel to India.

I then remembered my marketing friend, Cheryl, and the ministry for which I had started doing the promo writing, Hopegivers International; it just so happened to be located in the same part of India I was already scheduled to travel to. I called her to ask what would be the possibilities of visiting the orphan ministry for myself—for three weeks! She was thrilled and immediately arranged for me to go to Kota, India, to meet Papa and get extensive tours of the ministry and interviews with many of the orphans for more writing content.

Papa and me in 2008

Papa and I immediately felt an inexplicable connection and I early discovered another curious synchronicity. The exact start date of his ministry in India coincided with my birth date. He shared his lifelong vision with me, to raise up one million orphaned and abandoned children to start one million churches in the parts of India that did not know about Jesus, and then asked me to bring his vision for orphans to American families. I accomplished this huge undertaking with my second book, One Million Arrows: Raising Your Children to Change the World, which included dozens of interviews with both international orphans and American families. This book received attention and endorsements from Evangelical Christian leaders such as Josh McDowell, Dennis Rainey, Franklin Graham, Ron Luce, Thelma Wells, and others.

Papa, the most Jesus-like person I’ve ever met, impacted my life profoundly. To this day, I can still hear his voice and feel his love that tangibly radiated to everyone around him. Even his religious “enemies” in India often stopped short of harming or persecuting him because his love softened their hearts.

After we became close friends and established some history together, he asked me to be the one to write his biography, as he was in his 70s and wanted his life events to be recorded in an inspirational book before his death. He told me he had been praying for many years for God to send “the right person” (a writer) to him, and he believed I was the answer to his prayer. I was so honored, but such a feat would require me traveling to India on a dedicated mission to obtain interviews.

In the fall of 2008, I felt an urgency to get to Papa for those interviews, though I didn’t have a solid reason why. He was often under persecution which included death threats, but that had been going on for decades. My husband sensed the importance too, so we dropped everything to fly to northwest India for three weeks. It was a most wonderful gift, spending every day talking to Papa about his life and faith journey—one that was filled with an abundance of profound miracles from the moment of his birth when he was stillborn and left for dead.

Six weeks after returning from my interview trip to India, Papa came to the U.S. for his annual Christmas fund raising tour for orphans, where he traveled around speaking to and visiting with his support churches and ministries. While in the U.S., he was hospitalized for a life-threatening antibiotic-resistant pneumonia, and later suffered a massive stroke while still in the hospital. I went to Georgia where he was in a nursing rehab facility to help care for him for a couple weeks in February of 2009, but Papa never spoke again after his stroke until he died two years later in India. In the year after my trip to India, I finished his beautiful biography, Hands that Hold the World.

Sadly, due to the events that I describe shortly, virtually no one accepted or read Papa’s biography.😢

There are so many inspiring stories about Papa, but there’s a personal one I want to share. My own mother was in late stages of cancer in December of 2008, the same time Papa was recovering in a hospital in Georgia after his stroke. She and I were at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, for the Christmas holidays while she underwent treatments for her rare form of cancer. Throughout her six-year battle with cancer, Mom frequently expressed fear of death, and often suffered from anxiety and fear of the unknown.

While we were in Rochester, she had a lucid dream one afternoon during a nap. Papa came to her on her bed wearing a distinctively styled long white shirt, and sat with her, holding her hand. She said he didn’t speak a word to her (noteworthy in light of his stroke) and, though they had never met, she recognized him. As they sat holding hands in silence, she felt completely loved and at peace for the first time since her cancer diagnosis. She woke up with an absolute radiance and even joy on her face. Something shifted in her from that moment on, and all of her fears of death evaporated permanently. Mom died five months later on the same date that Papa’s wife, Ammini, had died fourteen years earlier.

Shortly after mom and I returned home from Rochester was the time period when I went to Georgia to help take care of Papa for a couple of weeks (February 2009). While I was there, I took pictures of him one day when a friend and I took him on an outing, and emailed them to my mom. Mom called me right away. “That’s the exact shirt Papa was wearing in my dream!” Papa’s shirt was a uniquely styled hand-tailored shirt that he had brought with him from India.

A couple years ago, shortly after thinking about Papa on the date of his death (December 4^th), I received a “love note” from him. I don’t remember how or where this photo showed up (see below), but it was a total synchronicity in the way it came to me because one of his favorite stories from his childhood involved a “cat named Thomas” that he would blame for eating the banana tree flowers in his yard when his mother asked what happened to them (Papa was the cat).

Thomas the Cat After Eating a Banana Flower?

The Crossroads of Discovery
It was exactly this trip, visiting Papa in Georgia, when I encountered my first challenges about the doctrine of hell. A friend at that time (Darcy) whom I refer to in my book, Raising Hell, emailed me a couple websites and some verses that she had happened upon that challenged the concept of hell. She told me to look at them when I had time. I told her to stop studying until I got home, lest we get ourselves into “trouble.” But at the same time, I was very curious about her findings because she and I both felt, while reading certain Scriptures, that we were having a “Damascus Road” experience. It was as if scales were falling off and we suddenly saw the Bible with new eyes.

I’ll admit, like any good, obedient Christian, I was scared of challenging the modern, orthodox interpretation of the Bible. Plus, I had a sister who had been lured away from reason and family for eleven years by a religious cult, so I knew that no one was immune from deception. But the initial evidence was so compelling, and I am so curious by nature, I could not help the boldness I felt to question and be open to new perspectives.

The very day that Darcy sent me the website and verses that challenged hell, I asked God for clarity, guidance, and spiritual protection. Coincidentally, I opened my One Year Bible to that day’s reading, February 11, 2009, to Exodus 33:12-22. Moses is asking for a deeper revelation of the character of Yahweh, and to be personally guided on his quest for the Promised Land. Yahweh promises that he will indeed personally guide him, even holding his hand throughout this special quest for liberation on the way to the Promise.

At that time in my spiritual journey, it was as if God was directly speaking to me—reassuring me—about my upcoming journey out of the Egypt of organized religion. It felt necessary and right to question a lifetime of religious indoctrination, believing that God would keep me safely on the right path. My husband, who had grown up as a missionary kid in Lebanon, simultaneously had also been having his own doubts about hell, which felt encouraging. For many of you, you know the rest of the story, which led me into the last fifteen years of religious deconstruction, and the slow, liminal journey of spiritual reconstruction. Which brings us up to this day, and my newfound liberation and empowerment from which I write.

The Real Cost of Following Jesus
Back to my writing trajectory and the “seeds” Dave had planted. As a successful up and coming Christian writer, I had realized many of my writing dreams. But what happened to the impending fame and fortune? While putting the finishing touches on One Million Arrows, a fly nose-dived into the ointment. The little inconvenience of Pandora’s Box opened when I dis-covered my first major translation error in the Bible along with dozens of verses I had never noticed before that seemed to declare that all people for all time are included in the “saved” family of God.

“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” John 12:32

“And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.’” Luke 2:10

“For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in his own order.” 1 Corinthians 15:22-23

“Who are the all?” one day I asked. “The all in Adam are the same all in Christ. Otherwise, how can the good news actually be good news for all people if most people who have ever lived will not benefit from it?”

The house of cards surrounding the doctrine of hell collapsed, and along with it probably every major Church doctrine in the years since.

Man, that turned everything in my life upside down. Essentially overnight, I had to give up all my “successful” Christian connections and writing gigs. As for Papa’s biography, there was a bit of a conflict of interests between my new realization of the wideness of God’s love and a national orphan ministry that hinged upon saving souls from eternal damnation. I knew if Papa had been able to speak and interact with me, we would have likely been able to sort it all out together. But he couldn’t, and so the concurrent leader of the ministry pushed me out, along with the two books I had poured out two years of my life writing, editing, publishing, and marketing—all on my own dime.

I did call Papa a few months before his death. He was able to take phone calls by then, and though he couldn’t speak, he could listen. I just knew that Papa would “get it” when I told him my discoveries about hell, the Hebrew perspectives (he loved them, too), the many important Bible mistranslations I had identified, and the discovery of the truly unfailing love of God for all people. I knew Papa would get it because he had demonstrated that he did not always cling to orthodoxy himself when he made his own discoveries that challenged his long-held beliefs. We had had lengthy, open-minded talks the times I went to India about our common discoveries outside of orthodoxy and how we followed our hearts rather than tradition. Plus, Papa understood the love and character of God more than anyone I’d ever met.

When I called him in 2009 telling him over the phone what I had discovered, he listened very quietly and intently for nearly forty-five minutes until I finished speaking and then he got very animated and excited, speaking rapid gibberish into the phone. I was unable to decipher his reaction, but to this day I trust that Papa died with a peace in his heart about all of his orphans and India countrymen.

After deconstructing hell, I actually experienced the meaning of a cross, or a crossroads, better than most Christians ever will. I had to choose between being true to the incredible revelation of the Spirit that I was being given that countered the teachings of nearly an entire world religion, or to stay with what was comfortable, easy, and didn’t involve loss of an entire subculture, alienation from friends, being labeled as a heretic, and disowned even by family. For the first time I understood why Moses lived outside the camp, and why Jesus was crucified alone.

Unable to keep the true Good News to myself, I lost my closest church friends whom I once thought loved me unconditionally. The normally nice, composed youth pastor at the small Baptist church I attended, with whom I was working as a youth leader, sought me out at a community event and sneered at me about how delusional I was. No love, no discussion, no questions about what led me to my newfound discoveries. Scoffing and sneering was all I got. I had never seen that side to him before, but it was confirming to me that I was on the right track. Fortunately, I am a strong woman of determination mingled with intellectual integrity, and could not ignore or rebury the treasure I’d uncovered in the field.

Since those days with Papa and my faith discoveries, I’ve had a huge overhaul of my perception of truth, God, Jesus, life, purpose, and even of good and evil. It’s so fascinating to me now how good AND evil can be a judgement made about a same person or situation at the same time, depending on the vantage point of the one judging. I have seen it many times in myself, making a judgment about something as either good or evil, only later to realize my perspective was distorted or flipped by contributing factors. Good and evil are two sides of the same coin, and difficult to objectively determine in many cases. One man’s hero/heroine is another man’s devil/Jezebel.  

Dave, if you are reading now, I would like to say something important to you.

Thank you for your love, your dedication to students, your seeming pure-intentioned desire to bring heaven closer to earth for so many. You and I both, regardless of the path we take to get there, are being guided into all truth. That is our heavenly promise.

Don’t worry about me. I’m solid in my relationship with Jesus. I’m doing a stellar job of spreading the love of God on earth, where I trust that all roads lead home. My perspective of Jesus may differ than yours now—my Jesus is much more inclusive and successful in his salvation message for humanity than yours—but that does not make my perspective any less valid than yours.

To you, my way might feel reckless, dangerous, and threatening for my soul and the souls of those I am influencing. For me, it feels like your way is too limiting, small, non-inclusive, and equally threatening in the way it maligns the character of God.

Time will tell us all we need to know. In the meantime, perfect Love casts out ALL fear. I no longer fear God. I no longer fear getting lost. I am always safe, believing that any God worth serving would never allow any of His and Her children to suffer ultimate loss or lostness.

We are each living behind the veil of illusion and mystery, moving along exactly where we are supposed to be on this great learning continuum of life. I’m sure you would agree that Jesus would want us, above all else, to love each other. Jesus would want us to focus on how to communicate and live out that purpose toward the love and liberation of all humans. Can we focus on our common goals?

The seeds you planted that you thought were lost forever to the birds? The birds picked up the seeds and flew beyond the cognitive dissonances and untruths from the old traditions of men. The birds have now scattered the living, fertile seeds even further around the world than you imagined possible. What you thought to be lost to the birds, have been multiplied and scattered.

I am the seed. You are also the seed. We all are the seeds. And, partly thanks to you, I have been thoroughly and generously planted throughout this world. I’d say your work has been a success.