Chronicles Of A Stay At Home Mom life: I'm a Pentecostal my faith what I believe in
by Mommy Hobbies
In my napsack stash
This may quite possibly be the most important post I will ever write on my blog.
It’s a profession of my faith.
I’m a one God, Apostolic, tongue talking Pentecostal. I believe in the doctrine of the Apostles and I believe in speaking in tongues just like on the day of Pentecost.
Translation: I’m a baptized, in the name of Jesus, Pentecostal.
Translation: I sound like I’m crazy.
I suppose a lot of things sound crazy if they are not understood. My whole life I’ve lived this *crazy* life and it’s in my blood. But most recently, I’ve begun to cleave this truth into my heart. It’s been a rough 4 years out here, away from my security blanket of friends and family. My walk with God has grown immensely and I no longer depend on others to defend my faith. I can do it myself.
There will come a day, I truly believe, that I will be persecuted for this faith of mine. Scary. But I know it’s coming.
Basically, the way I believe is that in order to get to heaven I MUST be baptized in Jesus’ name :: Acts 10:44-48
Filled with His spirit. And part of knowing that God’s spirit is living inside me is the fact I speak in other tongues :: Acts 2:1-21 & Acts 2: 36-38
I believe there is only one God and father and Jesus is His name :: Matthew 28:18-20 (what’s His name?) —> Matthew 1:21,
With all that said, here is the kicker, some people might not believe me. What? You say? Let me explain.
I was raised with a beautiful heritage in Pentecost. I went to an amazing church on the West coast that was known for its leadership, music, talented young people, and our standards. Our dress code set us apart from other people in our faith. We wore our sleeves below our elbows, our skirts below our knees (even when sitting down our knees had to be hidden), our necklines no lower than three fingers below the collar bone, jewelery (including wedding rings) wasn’t worn, no make up, and our hair was to never be cut. It’s not as bad as it sounds It was how I was raised and I didn’t think twice. I grew up in a wholesome, Godly church atmosphere, some of the most elegant women and distinguished looking men sat on those pews. We weren’t a drab, ugly people because of our standards, we shone. Truly.
But after moving here, to the East coast, my standards changed…took them a while, but I started to realize why people wore shorter sleeves: the climate. Humidity and long sleeves are unbearable. Well, I suppose I could wear huge, puffy, long sleeves like the Amish women, but even they wear shorter sleeves when the weather gets bad. So, now, my elbows show and for people back home, in my old church, this is a sign that I’m no longer living Godly, that I’m on the path to destruction, because the first thing to go are your standards, then it’s the doctrine. They doubt your belief system is the same as theirs and slowly you become one of the people on their prayer list. These are facts. This isn’t a bash session. This is the truth.
So, now, I’m in trouble of being on that prayer list. It’s ok It’s a little offensive because it’s as though they’re saying I am not as holy as I need to be. Which, if all the churches here on the East coast and a lot of the church in the south were to line up, majority of them would have their elbows showing in mid summer. Truth. I’m sure you catch my drift.
I firmly believe I need to set myself apart in my dress. Absolutely. But I do not believe that I will go to hell if my elbows show. I stand by this statement. However, if you do attend a church where the standards are that your elbows must be covered, obedience is paramount. Obey the preferences of your pastor and the church culture…
All in all, I love Jesus but my elbows show. And for the record. I love my home church. It’s is my *HOME* church. For ever and always.
Most importantly, have you received the Holy Ghost since you believed??
Acts 19: 1-5
Please, take a moment, if you’re curious, and click the links to the scriptures, God’s word will speak for itself. It doesn’t need my help at all.