Over the last year, I have given some thought and conclusions to what people call the deconstructing of their faith. We are in the midst of the great falling away. People are declaring on their social media 'why' they aren't following Jesus down the narrow path anymore after years of believing. Instead of shouting from the rooftops of the revealed light of God in darkness, they are shouting their truth and experience from a greater darkness than before.

After nightfall, go outside for 15 minutes tonight until your eyes are used to the dark. Then, come inside, where the lights are bright, for 5 minutes. Return to the night sky, and you will see how much darker it got after exposure to the light.

I thought deconstructing was terrible. But then God shared with me something else happening in the Church that was not as loud and boisterous as the deconstructing crowd. It is those who are silently quitting Jesus. They are doing the same deconstruction but doing so silently.

I love you with eternal love but hate your flesh. Those were the words I heard in my heart one-day last week. I was oblivious to what I did to provoke such a statement. What did I do that God hated? I did not know.

Fast forward to Friday, and I was found to be the parental guardian of my 3-year-old niece and 11-year-old nephew as my mother and sister headed for a weekend getaway. If you know me; I'm a healthy recluse and need a lot of alone time. I can't remember when I went two and a half days without separation from people. I leaned on the grace of God, and I got through, and this is my story.

My niece is at the age where she is Dora the Explorer, looking for the next adventure to give her five senses something to shout about. Anything that is closed gets opened—all doors, drawers, bags, and boxes.

My nephew is developing his way, his truth, and his life. His way is what he wants. His truth is that no one understands him and is against him. His life is whatever he feels like at the moment.

Last week, I sent a newsletter stating what I do in Ministry. I spent all week with another idea to write, but when I sat down to write, something else came from my heart. I didn't know God was setting me up for encouragement and correction.

I have grown weary, dissatisfied, and disillusioned about my life. I'm not tempted to return to Egypt or live on my terms. I am not tempted to quit what I am doing. God is my life, and His will matters more to me than my life. However, my heart spoke things that should not be said to a holy God. Thoughts that exalted itself over the written word of God but never left my lips. Over the past year, I have seen God's loving kindness and soft correction, but recently, I needed a shout—a solemn rebuke.

I am not new to the Ministry. I grew up in Ministry as a child. I didn't serve the Lord nor knew Him until I was 28, but I did know the inner workings of Ministry. I got saved on Labor Day 1999; four days later, I entered Ministry on the streets of Oklahoma City doing the work of an Evangelist. The group I joined took sack lunches to the homeless throughout the camps and hidden places downtown OKC.