THE MESSAGE OF THE STICK

Rickie Moore

June 1995

There are times when God calls a person to take up a message, and there are times when God calls for such a message to be written down—to make it stick, I suppose.

In January of 1995 God gave me a message to carry. I now feel constrained to do what the prophet Habakkuk was told to do: "Write the vision; make it plain upon tablets, so he may run who reads it. For still the vision awaits its time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie" (Hab. 2:2-3, RSV).

It was the second week in January 1995—a week of historic events in Cleveland, Tennessee. The executive leadership of the Church of God held a Solemn Assembly observance here in which the leaders of the Church of God of Prophecy came together with the leaders of the Church of God in a step of reconciliation after over seventy years of estrangement (See the newspaper article, “Two local churches meet, look at reconciliation,” Cleveland Daily Banner, January 8, 1995).

Immediately following this two-day observance, the State Overseers In-Service J-Term convened at the School of Theology (now Pentecostal Theological Seminary), followed by a meeting which included all of the denomination's District Overseers from around the country.

There had been much anticipation leading up to these events. That was especially the case for me, and for at least two reasons. First, I had felt a burden for some time concerning the need for reconciliation between the Church of God and the Church of God of Prophecy. It was a burden that I had carried for several years with two of my closest friends, David Dehner and Philip Morris, both staff ministers at my local congregation, the Westmore Church of God. In fact, on one occasion about three years prior, the three of us were prompted during a time of prayer to get up and go to the chapel at the Church of God of Prophecy General Offices and offer a prayer of reconciliation in that place. It was my first time ever to step foot there. You can imagine the great expectancy that the three of us felt when we first learned in late November 1994 of the plans for a January Solemn Assembly gathering in which the leaders from our two denominations would come together in that very sanctuary.

A second reason that this time had approached with such expectancy for me was that I had been asked to prepare a paper for presentation to the State Overseers on Wednesday of that week. And as I had worked on that paper, I underwent a struggle which culminated in a decision to write a paper which disclosed some very deep spiritual experiences, which I had previously shared with only a few people. This paper, which now appears as the previous chapter of this book, was not easy for me to compose or to disclose. In that process I leaned heavily upon the prayers of my friends, David and Philip. And when the paper was ready, I asked and arranged for them to be there when I presented it at the Overseers meeting.

On the last Friday before this special week, David, Philip, and I decided to meet, along with a few others, in the School of Theology chapel for an all-night prayer meeting of preparation and intercession. Little did I know that this would be my last time with David Dehner. For on Monday morning, during the very hour that the Solemn Assembly was convening in the Church of God of Prophecy headquarter's chapel, only my second time to be in this place, David Dehner had his breakfast interrupted by a massive heart attack which quickly took his life.

(See the articles by Nancy Neal, “David Dehner was man of prayer,” Cleveland Daily Banner, February 24, 1995, and “Dehner’s life gave witness to gospel,” Cleveland Daily Banner, February 26, 1995.)

The word about David reached me during the following hour when the Assembly participants had gathered, with full press coverage, for their second session at the Old Assembly Tabernacle site, now a vacant lot, on Central Avenue in downtown Cleveland. From where I was standing, the timing was astounding—for David to die at the moment of the very gathering for which he had so fervently prayed and waited, was heavy with significance. It struck me that only God can make an assembly solemn, and He shows us how solemn, how serious he is by what he is willing to sacrifice. He is willing to sacrifice the very best.

The last Scripture that David had shared with me the previous Friday, when we were last together, was from Hosea 11 where God speaks concerning his agonizing desire for the restoration of his backslidden children. God declares, "My heart is turned within me!" (Hos. 11:8). God, for the sake of our restoration, had suffered a heart attack, and it had taken the form of David Dehner.

Two days later, on Wednesday afternoon, I stood before the denominational elders to present my paper. I began by acknowledging that I had just lost my closest elder.

I then delivered my burden—how that our perpetration and perpetuation of division had cost us countless numbers of our sons and daughters. And, in response, the burdens of many hearts were revealed. Testimony after testimony acknowledged personal grief over lost daughters and sons. The session extended well beyond its scheduled time, continuing right through a planned break. Several times there was a move to close the meeting, but it would be pried back open by another confession or impression about our need for further response. At one point, we all gathered around the Executive Committee Members, laying hands upon them and praying for them.

This solemn time seemed to reveal more than our many burdens. It seemed to reveal the burden of God's own heart over all of our lost and scattered children—the painful price of a broken home, a denominational divorce settlement, which we never dreamed would cost us so dearly.

What should be done? Some felt that we were being called to do more than pray for our children, that we needed to repent for ourselves, for the ways we had endorsed and sustained the division of the body. There were several personal confessions, then one brother suggested our need for corporate repentance, and he was asked to lead us in such a prayer. It was a difficult prayer. Did everyone feel this need? Or were we ourselves divided on the matter of our denominational division and our need to repent for it?

In the midst of our discomfort, another brother stood and read a passage of Scripture. Without any comment, he simply read 1 Corinthians 6:1-8,

If any of you has a dispute with another, dare he take it before the ungodly for judgment instead of before the saints? Do you not know that the saints will judge the world? And if you are to judge the world, are you not competent to judge trivial cases? Do you not know that we will judge angels? How much more the things of this life? Therefore, if you have disputes about such matters, appoint as judges even men of little account in the church! I say this to shame you. Is it possible that there is nobody among you wise enough to judge a dispute between believers? But instead, one brother goes to law against another--and this in front of unbelievers! The very fact that have lawsuits among you means you have been completely defeated already. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated? Instead, you yourselves cheat and do wrong, and you do this to your brothers (NIV).

When the brother finished and sat down, I do not remember any overt response in the room, but in my mind a single phrase from the book of Hosea started playing over and over, "We have sown the wind, and reaped the whirlwind" (Hos. 8:7). To me this pointed to the irony of how we had pressed the case of our denominational contention in a court of law, only to come now to the point where many legal cases are being pressed against our denomination. I struggled with whether this thought should be shared with those present, especially when the conversation seemed to go a different direction. But just before the meeting came to a close, I ventured to speak this thought to the body.

My struggle did not end after I shared. Nothing was said in response. I wondered whether I had spoken amiss. I left the meeting somewhat troubled, but I knew in my heart that I would have felt worse had I kept silent. Before going home, I found a quiet place, and as I reflected, I thought I should write down what I had shared near the end of the meeting. "We have sown the wind and reaped the whirlwind. We pressed one lawsuit, and now many lawsuits are pressed against us." But before my pen had finished these lines, other thoughts, which were completely new to me, began pouring out and onto the page as quickly as I could write them down. It went like this.

We pressed a lawsuit in order to gain our name. And now that is exactly what we have—our name. It is no longer God's name. We have become a nominal church—Church of God in name only. The name we won in the world's court we lost in God's court. God has proof of this. God told Hosea to name his child "Not-my-People"; He now reveals that the name of our children is "Not-Church-of-God"! Because we thought the name "Church of God" a thing to be grasped, we lost it. In its place God has given us a new name—"Church of God of Pragmatism". Pragmatism has killed prophesy. But if we will repent openly and publicly, then we can be a Church of God of prophecy, and then we will be the Church of God.

Here the message ended, but it was only the beginning of a burden. I could sense this from past experience. But for the time being, I could only fold the paper and tuck it away. Another matter was pressing. I had a funeral message to prepare for the following day.

The day of David Dehner's funeral was as full as his good life. To stand and speak in his honor was one of my greatest honors. I did not have to search hard for what to say, for David had given me the heart of his own eulogy on that last Friday night prayer time that we had shared together. So my message elaborated the last Scripture which David had shared with me, the passage on God's turning heart in Hosea 11. This showed the passion of God's heart that was revealed in David's heart—his longing for revival. Then at the graveside, I was asked to read some appropriate selection from the Bible. Again, I had little difficulty choosing the passage. I knew I should read the last Scripture which I had shared with David, the passage on the resurrection of the valley of dry bones in Ezekiel 37. It was only fitting, in the light of David Dehner's passion not just for his own resurrection but for the reviving of all the people of God.

When the funeral was over, my thoughts quickly returned to the message I had recorded the day before, and the same burden settled back down upon me. I got home just before the arrival of my brother-in-law, Steven McCullar, pastor of the Church of Godin Starkville, Mississippi, who was driving in for the District Overseers conference, scheduled to begin that night at the North Cleveland Church of God.

On the way to this meeting with Steve, I shared with him the message which I had, until then, kept to myself. It seemed at once to strike him with the same heaviness that it had registered in me. His response was firm. He exhorted me that it was a word from the Lord that must certainly be delivered. But I wondered, could it be like my previous experiences of having words that should be carried for some time before the point of disclosure? I was surprised by Steve's response to this thought. He told me that pastors and congregations like his stand in need of a word now, and they are directly affected by what happens and does not happen here in Cleveland. I was moved by Steve's burden. I knew that I must be open to delivering the message right away, but how that should happen I did not know.

The evening service came and went. After the dismissal prayer, I prayed in the altar. In addition to the grief of just having faced the burial of my spiritual elder, I carried the burden of the message I had just been given, a message which seemed to cry out for an elder who could receive it. I prayed that God would prompt some denominational official to come to me. But I finally made my way out of the quickly deserted auditorium, carrying my burden with me.

I was resigned to waiting until another day. I went home and was preparing to retire for the night. It was very late. As I prepared to rest, I only grew more restless. The burden seemed to swell within me. I felt like I was being pushed to deliver my message without any further delay. I sought God's direction, and within a few minutes I was dialing the number of one of my denominational officials. When he answered I identified myself and promptly told him that I was carrying a message from the Lord that I felt I should submit to him. When he learned that it was in the form of a short statement which I had written down, he asked me to read it to him over the phone. I did, and he responded by acknowledging the seriousness of the message. He asked me to provide him with a written copy, and he indicated that he might want to convey it to the entire Executive Committee at some point. He asked me what process of response I thought was appropriate. I told him that my purpose in giving the message to him was to submit it, and that I deferred to his decision. He also asked me if I had done special research in the history of our denominational split. I indicated that beyond my awareness of the standard treatment, I had pursued no specialized study on the subject. Then I added that what I was sharing was not coming from that direction. He thanked me, and I reiterated my intent to get a copy of the message to him the first thing the next morning.

After hanging up the phone, I put the written copy of my message in an envelope and sealed it. I arranged for my brother-in-law to hand deliver it the next morning. I turned in for the night, thinking that I had come to the end of the matter. But I was soon to learn that this was not at all the case.

At dawn I was abruptly awakened with another word, which I knew I must add to what had been sealed for delivery the night before. And so, on the outside of the closed envelope, I wrote down these words:

The process which is called for is prayer and submission. As far as research, the matter has been researched thoroughly. It has been researched by One who has studied records to which no human historian has access, for He has researched the hearts of men.

My brother-in-law left with the letter, and I proceeded to get dressed for the day. I felt a great stirring inside, and I knew I needed to see Philip Morris right away. The week had been so busy for each of us that we had scarcely had time since David's death to sit together and process the common loss we had suffered. I met Philip at the Westmore Church, and we began to update each other on what we had been experiencing. As I recalled how I had been led to read from Ezekiel 37 at David's graveside service, Philip and I opened our Bibles and we felt ourselves being carried beyond where I had stopped reading at the ceremony. Right after the resurrection of the dry bones, Ezekiel announces,

Again the word of the LORD came to me, saying, 'As for you, son of man, take a stick for yourself and write on it: "For Judah and for the children of Israel, his companions". Then take another stick and write on it, "For Joseph, the stick of Ephraim, and for all the house of Israel, his companions". Then join them one to another for yourself into one stick, and they will become one in your hand. And when the children of your people speak to you, saying, "Will you not show us what you mean by these?"--say to them, "Thus says the LORD God: "Surely I will take the stick of Joseph, which is in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of Israel, his companions; and I will join them with it, with the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, and they will be one in My hand." And the sticks on which you write will be in your hand before their eyes' (Ez. 37:15-20, NKJV).

Even as the word of the LORD had come "again" to the prophet Ezekiel, I knew in that moment that the word of the LORD was coming again to me. I told Philip that I needed to leave and meet him back at the church a short time later. I had to find some sticks.

What I found instead, was a single stick, specifically an axe handle. Just like the axe handle of 2 Kings 6:5, which the Church of God General Overseer had spoken about in his opening address to the Solemn Assembly on the previous Sunday night, it was missing its axe head. The General Overseer's message compared the church to an axe which had lost its cutting edge. But I knew that the axe handle that I had found was meant to carry a further message—one which called for the handle itself to be broken in two.

When I returned to Philip's office with the axe handle, I asked him to come with me, for I needed his help to break the stick. I was clear on where we should go. We drove to the vacant lot on Central Avenue, the Old Assembly Tabernacle site, where the leaders of the Church of God and the Church of God of Prophecy had assembled four days earlier. There Philip and I searched for a place and a way to break the stick. I soon found what I was looking for on the east edge of the empty lot. There among the few remaining foundation stones of what had been the Old Assembly Tabernacle stood the remains of a set of steps which obviously had once led into the building. Beside the bottom left hand corner of the steps, where they met the crumbling sidewalk, a thick rusty pipe, the remnant of a handrail, was rooted firmly in the concrete. I realized that this was the spot where the stick could be, and should be, broken. We could both grasp the top end of the axe handle and, while wedging the other end against the bottom step, pry it against the metal pole

Despite such solid leverage between rock and steel, the ash wood handle did not give way easily. But as we applied all of our strength, the timber finally began to creak and with a violent, air-splitting crack, it broke in two.

The very instant of the break brought with it two stunning impressions. First, what a tremendous amount of deliberate, strenuous effort it took to break the axe handle . . . and the church! And secondly, what an amazing number of splinters exploded from the break! They flared hideously from each broken piece like sprays of vicious daggers facing off. And yet how quickly and easily the little splinters could now be broken to pieces!

We took the two sticks back to the church. It was time to write on them. But what? We looked again to the passage in Ezekiel 37. There we noticed that God was the one who chose the names that were to be written on the pieces. Like the people in the story of the Tower of Babel, we are ever tempted to make names for ourselves (Gen. 11:4), but God finally reserves the right to name us. The denominations by which we establish and name ourselves can only wind up—like the people of that story—nameless. How utterly ironic that the very roots of our word "denomination" suggest the idea of "de-naming"!

Philip also noticed how that the names written on Ezekiel's two sticks included references to "the children". As we read and talked and prayed, we began to see what should be written on the two sticks before us: On one:

Church of God of Prophecy Tomlinson and all his children

On the other:

Church of God of Pragmatism Lee and all his children

I went and bought a wood burner to burn these words into the wooden pieces of the broken axe handle. It took me a long time. I went home to complete the work by myself. I had plenty of time to think. I wondered what should happen to these two sticks. Perhaps they should be sent to the leaders of the respective denominations.

I thought about the names, Tomlinson and Lee. For us these are, first of all, the names of institutions, two denominational colleges. We care a great deal about our institutions, but God cares more about people—not for institutions named "Lee" and "Tomlinson" as much as for the actual persons and their offspring, indeed all the children who have come after them.

I thought about the significance of the epithet "of Pragmatism". It is clearly an indictment. "Pragmatism" is not a biblical word, and so it yields no Bible name. And yet its meaning can be found in the Bible. It appears in other terms, such as the phrase in the book of Judges which describes the people of Israel: "They did what was right in their own eyes" (Judges 21:25).

The epithet "of Prophecy" at first does not appear to convey any indictment. But, as a suffix on the name "Church of God", it makes Prophecy more ultimate than God! That is always the danger when God gives one of us an authentic prophetic word or a genuine prophetic calling or anointing. The temptation is for us to grasp that prophecy as our own, especially in that inevitable moment when someone else arises to challenge our place and contest our calling. But the prophecy which establishes us is not a thing to be grasped. To grasp it is to transform it from a gracious bestowal to a self-serving possession, from something genuinely "of God" to something "of us". Jesus never grabbed his mantle when eager hands reached out to take it from him. This is why he never lost it. True, he lost it in the world's legal proceedings, but he never lost it in God's court.

I thought about what happens instead when mantles are grasped and pulled in two different directions. Of course, the mantle tears in two. Then the separate pieces will not adequately cover anyone. And what happens to those who justify the tearing of the mantle from another's shoulders? Surely we know the answer to this question. The mantle fragment is torn and torn again into ever smaller pieces until everyone stands uncovered. What else could be expected where mantle-tearing has been justified?

What would it be like for us to feel clothed once again in the confirming mantles of holy sanction instead of the contested rags of popular performance? To know the authority that is spiritual and not just political? To be clothed with power from on high and not just endorsements and votes from below? Where did we lose our covering? Is there a way to recover it?

What happened next was very painful. I had finished writing the names on the two sticks, the night had fallen, and I was wondering what I should now do with the sticks. I started to phone a dear friend—someone I consider to be my spiritual mother. I wanted to ask her to pray for me, but I unintentionally dialed the wrong number. I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. "Wrong number," I said, hoping that my voice would not be recognized. But when I hung up the phone, the Spirit spoke clearly to me and let me know that I had not dialed the wrong number. For I had dialed the number of an estranged brother. I went to the floor in conviction. It did not take me long to see what the Lord was requiring of me. I had to go to my brother and repent to him for things that I had been harboring in my heart against him. What I had justified was now exposed. And before God and my brother I now had to come. It took me only a few minutes to drive to his house, but it was a very long journey . . . and a most painful one. Repentance always is. It is a kind of death.

Weak but clean, I returned home some hours later, and it was very late. I picked up the two sticks which I had left on my kitchen table, and I went to find my brother-in-law, Steven, and Philip Morris. I knew that I needed my brothers to help me find the next step. And as we came together the next step became very clear. The three of us returned to the vacant lot on Central Avenue close to midnight, and in front of the steps where the axe handle had been broken, we reunited the pieces at the point of the break and bound them tightly with a cord.

There was no uncertainty now about what I should do. My assignment was to carry this stick in my hand before the eyes of the people. And when they would ask me what it means, I was to tell them this:

God is going to take from the two pieces and make one people. And they will have one leader. And when God does this, all of the children, who have been scattered among the heathen, will come home.

This is the message of the stick. And for eight weeks I carried it. It took purpose and strength beyond my own to do it. The Lord's blessing outweighed His burden. It is a good thing, because mockery is not easy to bear. One person asked me, "Is that a security blanket you're carrying?" I was able to assure him that what I carried held no security for me . . . or for him either!

I learned many things during this assignment. Like the time I was invited to share the message of the stick to a group of small children. I asked them, "Who hurts most when there is a divorce?" One little boy immediately blurted out the answer—a response much more profound than the one I was expecting, "God does!" "How right you are! And who hurts next most?" The same little boy was ready with the answer. "Us," he said.

I learned that grace is needed both to lay hold of a word from God and to let it go. When the time came, the Lord directed me very clearly in placing the stick into the hands of the executive leadership of the denomination. Like the original recorded message, the stick was given to me for submission to my elders.

I learned finally that there are three vital steps in the process of reconciliation. The first step is Getting Together. This is the easiest step—so easy that we even want the press to come and cover it. The second step is Being Gotten Together by God. This is the killer, for it requires nothing short of the crucifixion of our efforts at self-justification. It is death to the image of ourselves which we have erected on the fault line of division. It is the loss of the name which we have made for ourselves. It is the end of presuming, like Jacob once did, that we can face God without having to face our brother or sister.

The third and final step is Begetting Together. This is the most wonderful step of reconciliation. It is the restoration of fruitfulness, the end of our barrenness, having children once again. It is the glorious blessing born from the burden . . . borne in the message of the stick.