Good morning. Yeah, that's kind of what I thought. Monday morning. I was trying to put myself in your seat and
imagine what I would want to hear, if anything, on a Monday morning, because probably you
stayed up too late last night. If you're a girl, there's a good chance you
started a new diet today, so you're already cranky. So I was trying to think. I went to seminary in London, England, and
I was trying to think, if somebody could have told me two things on a Monday, what would
I have wanted to hear? And I thought, maybe this: All exams have
been cancelled, because God just thinks you're A-plus, every one of you. And someone anonymously puts 10,000 dollars
in each of your checking accounts. We don't know who, but just, you know, God
bless! So thank you, and that's it, really. No, actually I thought, what I would have
wanted to hear was that everything that I hoped and dared to believe about God is even
greater than it is, than what I already believe. I gave my life to Christ when I was 11. I am now 57, so that is a lot of years of
walking with God and I have to tell you, I feel as if I'm only beginning to get a taste
of the breadth and the height and the length and the depth of God's ridiculous, overwhelming,
fiery love and grace. One of my favorite authors is A.W. Tozer, I don't know if there are any Tozer
fans in here. He made an interesting quote that has had
me thinking a lot recently. I'm sure you are familiar with the quote,
"What comes to your mind when you think about God is the most important thing about you." What comes to your mind when you think about
God is the most important thing about you. Now, depending on your background, your answer
will probably be different. If some of you had a very harsh childhood,
if you were raised by a father who was distant, or unloving, or even abusive, it's hard not
to project that onto God and think that God too is maybe disappointed in you, or maybe
a little distant or maybe just a little unconcerned about your life. But if you were brought up in a place where
you really felt like you ticked all the right boxes, you know, and you did what you're supposed
to do, you may be in the place where you think that every morning when you wake up, God thinks,
"Well great, at least we've got her. At least we've got him. Here's one that's going to get it right today,
no matter how many other people mess up." I grew up a little bit like that. I was born on the west coast of Scotland. Raised in a very small Baptist church that
my family had been in for generations. In fact, the communion table was made by my
great-great-grandfather. And I really thought I knew what faith looked
like, and then I went to seminary in London and there was students there from 32 different
countries around the world and it was very mixed, denominationally. And that was confusing for me at first because
I knew what faith looked like. But all the Anglicans drank and I'm like,
"Well, I know you're not going to lose your place in heaven, but you're definitely going
to get an obstructed view. There's no doubt about it." Then I left seminary and joined youth for
Christ and moved to Holland and worked in Holland and all the Dutch Youth for Christ
people smoked. I'm like, "Lord, are you aware of what is
happening on this planet that you've created?" And it, really, it set up in me a struggle
as to what really, actually matters. What is God really looking for in you and
in me? Because the truth is that we are all broken,
but some of us do a better job of hiding it. I love that verse at the end of the story
of Zacchaeus, you know that's the only Scottish person in the New Testament. A wee, wee man. You're welcome, thank you. But Luke 19:11 says this, "For the Son of
keep to seek and to save those who are lost." Now lost can mean all sorts of things in our
culture. You've lost your keys, you lost your dog. Here, that little Greek word, 'apolimi,' means
devastated, ruined, broken beyond repair. That reads a little differently. For the Son of man came to seek and to save
those who are devastated, ruined, broken beyond repair. Took me a long time in my Christian walk to
come to a place of understanding that that is not the bad news; that's actually the good
news. As Johnnie said, for the last 17 years, I've
worked with Women of Faith and we've had the privilege of welcoming 5 million women. But I'll never forget that phone call the
day that someone called and said, "We're starting this new conference for women, we would really
like you to come and be one of the speakers. The first event you'll speak at will be in
Hawaii." Yup, somebody's got to go. Those people need the Lord too, you know. "And you'll probably be speaking to about
10,000 women." And all I could think was, "Should I tell
them? Should I tell them?" I thought, "No. No, I'm not going to tell them. Because if I tell them, then I'm not going
to Hawaii." What they didn't know and what they did not
know for actually the first 2 years is that I had never spoken in public before in my
life. They assumed I had because my background is
television. I worked for 5 years with the BBC in London,
hosting a live gospel rock show. Then I worked for 5 years co-hosting the 700
Club with Dr. Pat Robertson. I was also a contemporary music artist. So sometimes if your face is familiar, people
think, "Well, she's a speaker." I had never spoken before in my life. I had no desire to speak. The only time I had done it was, once, and
I did it as a favor for a friend. Have you ever said to a friend you'll do something
because you're in that kind of a good mood? And then you actually have to do it and you're
like, "Why did I say I would do that?" Well that's what happened to me. I was doing my Master's in Theology at Fuller's
Seminary in Pasedena and I was going out of the door one day to class and my phone rang
and it was my best friend, Marlene. And she said, "What are you doing?" And I said, "Nothing, do you what me to do
something?" She said, "Well, actually Saturday, would
you be willing to drive to Palm Springs and speak at a private country club for women?" And I said, "No." And she said, "But I need you to." I said, "Marlene, it's not that I'm not willing
to. I don't know how to do that." I mean people who speak have "talks," that
it's something they've actually done before. You can't just show up at a country club and
just share your shopping list. So I said, "I'd love to, but I can't." And I said, "Let's face it, you already know
almost every Christian woman in America who speaks." And this is exactly what she said to me, "I've
called them all. You're the bottom of the barrel." Seriously. So I said, "Well because I love you, I will
do it. But please make it clear that this is the
best you could get." So I woke up that morning and I thought, "Why
did I say I would do this?" I was a student; most of my clothes were just
blue jeans and t-shirts. And Palm Springs is pretty ritzy. So I got in my little car, and I'm driving
the 2 hours from where I lived to Palm Springs, and I'm talking to the Lord, basically saying,
"I just want to apologize right now, because you are not going to look good today." So I got there, and it was worse than I thought. Manicured lawns, women driving up in their
chauffer-driven limousines, little Chanel suits, perfect makeup, faces, interestingly
enough that didn't move, but that's a whole other thing. Ask the girls. So I went inside, and it was this huge ballroom. A thousand women, crystal and china, and I
sat at the head table beside the most stunningly beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. Tall, willowy, blonde, perfect face. The kind of woman you look at and think, "Really,
Lord? Share the love a little. Hello." Well finally, they introduced me, and I stood
at the podium with nothing to say. And I had one of those, "Return now, Lord"
moments, but He seemed reluctant. So, I had one of those prayers where I was
just literally, "Lord, what do I do?" And I heard God say, "Just tell the truth." All right. So I said, "Um. Hello. My name is Sheila, and 8 weeks ago, I was
released from a psychiatric hospital." That's a great opening line if you ever want
to use it. But for me, it was absolutely the truth. I'd spend all my life running from that place. Brought up in Scotland by Christian parents,
which would not be unusual in America, but in Scotland, less than 2% of our population
even go to church. So to have a mom and dad who loved God was
quite a gift. But when I was 5 years old, my father had
a massive brain aneurysm and it turned his personality from being loving and kind to
being a frightening stranger. And when I was 5 years old, my father tried
to kill me. Tried to bring his cane down on my skull. But I pulled it, and knocked him off his balance,
and he was taken off to what was called our local asylum - horrible, old hospital on the
hill. He was 34 years old, and he was placed in
a maximum security ward because he'd become violent. And he escaped. My mom asked if he could be moved to a ward
with some younger men and they agreed, but it meant it was less secure. And on the first night, he was placed in that
ward, he escaped. And they looked for him all through the night,
and found him in the morning. He had taken his own life in the river. He was dead, caught in the salmon nets. And in Scotland in those days, you don't take
children to funerals. All I knew was that my mom came home in a
black dress and a black hat. Took all the photos of my father off the wall,
put them in a suitcase, put it under her bed, and we never talked about him again. I think she thought, "if Sheila wants to talk,
she will," but she had no idea of the conversation going on in my head. What did my father see in me that made him
hate me so much in the end? When you're 5 years old, you don't process
information very well. And I think it would be interesting to know
some of your stories, because every single one of you have a story. And some of you suffered a lot when you were
really little. When you have that kind of pain and you don't
know what to do with it. You find a way to cope. You find a way to go on. You find some kind of mask, a place to hide. Sometimes we do it through a career, or we
try to dress differently, or we try and we do it through all sorts of ways. I found the perfect place to hide: Christian
ministry. I mean, who's going to come up to you and
say, "Put that Bible down, or we're going to have an intervention." Probably not going to happen. But God is the only one who knows exactly
what's going on inside. And I determined I would become the perfect
Christian woman if it killed me. And it very nearly did. I went to seminary to train to be a missionary
in India because I couldn't think of anything I would hate more. I really thought that would make God happy. If I chose something that I clearly didn't
want to do, that would show God that I was giving my life to Him. I then came to America, I was signed to an
American recording label, and then I was invited to become Pat Robertson's co-host. But inside, nothing had changed. I was the same scared, little girl who wondered
what God saw, what my father saw, that made him turn to me and determine that God would
never see it and I would never allow anyone else to get close enough to me that they could
see it too. I was very well-known and very lonely. To everyone else, it seemed like I had all
my ducks in a row, but God knew the truth. And one of the things to me about the fiery,
outrageous, merciful love of God is that He is committed to pursuing us into a real relationship. Not just pretending, but that we'd be really
known. If I'd had my choice over how God redirected
my life, I would've had Him take my fear away, but instead, He decided to allow the very
thing I was afraid of to happen. To show me the truth of what Paul, when he
wrote to the church in Romans, said, "I am convinced that nothing can separate us from
the love of God in Christ." I went from one morning being on the 700 Club
and by that evening I was in the locked ward of a psychiatric hospital. I was 34 years old. Exactly the same age as my father. I remember on that first morning when I had
to meet with a psychiatrist and he asked me a question, he said, "Who are you?" And I could see my name on his pad, and I
wasn't in a good mood, because, here's a little piece of insight or information about psych
hospitals, which I hope you'll never need, but one never knows: In psych hospitals, they
only serve decaf coffee. If there's ever a moment in your life when
you need a decent cup of coffee, that would be it, but no. We don't want to get the loonies restless. So, I was already not in a great frame of
mind, so I just said, "Sheila. Sheila Walsh." And he said, "No, Sheila, I know your name,
who are you?" "Um, I'm the co-host of the 700 Club." He said, "No Sheila, I didn't ask you what
you do. Who are you?" I said, "I have absolutely no idea." And he said, "I know that, and that's why
you're here." I discovered that sometimes God will take
you to a prison to set you free. And some of God's most precious gifts come
in boxes that make your hands bleed when you open them, but inside is what you've been
longing for all your life. A relationship with God based on nothing you
bring to the table. I finished my little talk in Palm Springs,
and I suddenly thought, "I don't know how you finish a talk. I mean a song, comes to the end and you leave
the stage. A television show, they roll the credits." I thought, "How do you get off here?" So this is basically what I did, I mean I
just kind of said, "Ok, well, that's about it. I'm not in a big hurry, so if anybody wants
to talk, I'll be around. The end." Proud moment. Interestingly enough, the very first person
who came up to talk to me was the stunningly beautiful blonde who took off her gold cuffs
and showed me where she slit her wrists. And I thought, some of our masks are just
more expensive, but they serve the same purpose. So let me ask you a question. If when you walked in here this morning, instead
of the worship team or whatever on the big screen, what we had specially prepared for
you this morning was a movie of your life, everything you've ever said, everything you've
ever done. The things that you've never actually done,
so you don't consider them a sin because you just thought about them and never did it. But it's all up there on the screen for anyone
who wants to watch. How would you feel? Because the radical truth of the gospel is
that God has seen your movie and He loves you. There's absolutely nothing about you, the
darkest shadowy places, there's nothing that God does not already know, has not already
paid for, and wants to welcome you to come into the light and be known. To just tell the truth. My son is 17, and so starting to look at colleges. But when he was 10, we had just finished lunch
one day and I was washing up dishes, and Christian said to me, "Mom, would you make me a flask
of hot chocolate?" And I said, "Yeah, sure babe. Are you going outside?" It was kind of cold. And he said, "No, mom today I'm running away
from home." I said, "Well, that's huge news. Thank you so much for telling me." And I said, "Do you mind me asking, did I
do something? Or did dad do something?" And he said, "No, no mom it's nothing like
that. But think about it. There's you, there's dad, there's the dogs,
nothing happens here. If I don't leave now, I will never have stories
to tell." "Excellent point," I said, as I prepared his
hot chocolate. And I said, "You mind me asking where you're
going?" And he said, "North. I'm heading north." And I said, "What are you going to do for
money, babe?" He said, "Don't worry mom, I intend to return
home on weekends." Huge relief to me, as his mother. So I gave him his hot chocolate and he's packing
up his backpack with his soccer ball, the dog's blanket, his flask, everything. And heads out the back door, so I'm like,
well, "Stay in touch. Traveling mercies." And off he went. So ran upstairs and I'm watching in the balcony,
because I know I can kind of watch for a while. And he walks away around the lake and stops
by a tree where he and I like to fish and he sits down, gets out the blanket, has some
hot chocolate, and I think, now what do I do when he moves on? So I thought, well I'll get the dogs and I'll
take them for a walk. I'll try to stay far enough back and if he
sees me, I'll just say, "So sorry, I had no idea this was north. Directionally challenged." But after a while, I realized what he was
doing was he was actually coming home. So I ran back downstairs and I'm just tidying
up the kitchen. He walks through the back door and kind of
smiles at me, muttering under his breath, "Good times, good times." He's a strange child, he's very like his father. So that night, after he'd had his bath and
he was in bed and we'd said our prayers, I said to him, "Christian, tell me about today. Did you enjoy your adventure?" He said, "Yeah, I did, Mom. But I think I would've liked it better if
my bag wasn't so heavy." Made me think. Wouldn't it be sad to live this blood-bought
life, make it all the way home, and for God to say, "Did you enjoy the journey?" And us to have to say, "Well I did, but I
think I would've enjoyed it more if my bag wasn't so heavy." What would that look like if when you walked
through the doors this morning, all your stuff became visible. Not your backpack and your books, your stuff. The internal baggage that you carry through
every day: the disappointment, the shame, the fear. What would that look like? And if you had to drag it to your seat, some
of you would be surprised by how much you're carrying, perhaps disappointed by how long
you've been carrying it. But my question would be this. If you saw it, would you want to take it home? Would you want to take it back to your dormitory
room? Or would you want to take Christ up on that
ridiculous, glorious exchange: "Come unto me all you are weary and heavy laden and I
will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me because
my yoke is easy and my burden is light. I could stand here and, promise you I won't,
for a million years, and never begin to tough the depth of the love of God for you. Not for the guy beside you or the girl in
front of you. For you. To be able to go out into this world, whether
you end up being President of the United States, whether you end up making movies, whether
you end up being a teacher, whether you end up, whatever you do! If you learn to become a daughter of the King
of Kings, son of the King of Kings, who tells the truth, you have to be able first of all
to make peace with what is true. And that is that we are not the good news,
Jesus is. It's actually a bit of a relief. You don't have to get it all right, He has
made you all right. You just get to show up and be who you are. When Christian was 4, I had him backstage
with me at one of our events, and we'd had a birthday party for a cameraman and there
was a big chocolate cake. And once everyone had had some, Christian
said, "Mom, can I try an experiment?" And I and, "Sure." It was a short experiment, just based on him
putting his face in the frosting. And it was very successful, very successful
experiment. And I thought my mother-in-law had taken him
back to the hotel to get changed and into bed, but as I'm about to go on stage, and
I had on a cream suit, I will never forget it. I heard this little voice behind me saying,
"Mommy!" And I know he just wants one more hug before
he goes to bed and so knelt down and I opened up my arms and I hugged him. And I knew what was going to happen. I knew I would get frosting on my hair and
in my suit, but it was absolutely intentional. Because I wanted to say to my boy, "You don't
clean yourself up to come to your mother, because you don't clean yourself up to come
to your father. You come as you are." I just want to say thank you so much for the
privilege. I don't take this lightly. I want to also tell you that when I leave
here, I'm going to continue to pray for you because the power in this room to change the
world is amazing. But it starts with you getting it in the depth
of your soul that as you are right now, you are loved by God, you have never lived an
unloved moment in your l
