Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
General Christian
Home and Religion
Father Knows Best

Father Knows Best

Last updated on: August 20, 2023 at 6:16 pm by Artisha T. Bolding

0 Comments

Father Knows Best 2023-08-20T18:16:51-04:00 Artisha T. Bolding

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

Bishop Pressley

Giants aren’t just from New York. They don’t just live up the beanstalk. In fact one of the greatest of all time, at least in my opinion, is right up the street in Beech Island, South Carolina and he’s been here all of his life. I’m talking about my Spiritual Father Hezekiah Pressley, Jr. He’s the founder and Bishop of New Beginning Ministries. I decided to do this piece because I honestly feel like I owe him my life.

What I know to be true is if I had continued on the path I was on a few years ago, I would have been dead, in jail or in a mental hospital today. Even as I type this I feel such an overwhelming amount of gratitude for God carving out a path for me that led me to my Dad. He has been vital in my life, my walk as a Christian, the growth of my faith and the building of my ministry. And I laugh because he will probably never read this and that’s okay. I’m writing it for me, and you.

So many opportunities have come across my desk in the last few months, it’s astounding. I’ve found myself having to write several different types of biographies that tell pieces of my origin story in terms of business, ministry and relationship. The interesting thing is, my Dad always comes up which further lets me know he was what I needed when I had no idea what I needed.

Church service black and white

I was a pew baby. That’s what I call folks like myself who’ve been in church all of our lives. I was born into the Methodist church that my grandfather helped build and went there every Sunday until I was 11 years old. When my mom moved us to DC we began to worship at a Baptist church that was very charismatic and weird for me at first. I didn’t understand why service was so long; I didn’t understand why the singing was so loud; and I definitely didn’t understand why people jumped up, fell out and had to be covered with a sheet. But pretty soon I got with the program and was excited to hang out with these weirdos every week. Tee hee.

I became very interested in not only the service but the scriptures themselves. I wanted to build my own relationship with God. I believed He loved me. I believed that He spoke to me. The sermons and the lessons and even my own reading of the Bible became so intriguing to me. All things church became a major part of my life at an early age. And yes I mean all things church. Sunday school, Bible study, choir rehearsal, dinners, banquets and even Hallelujah night (instead of Halloween).

Vacation bible school

But it wasn’t until I met Hezekiah that I really took the time to dive into my purpose. It was only after listening to him and watching him that I was willing to take the time to ask God what was it that He wanted from me. I was convinced it had to be more than 10% of my check and showing up every Sunday.

So spiritually I had to humble myself, approach this with a beginner’s mind, open the door of my little girl heart and allow God inside in a new way. And I should tell you that before this very moment I have not been able to express that idea nor that process in such a way. Sharing with you has become therapeutic in real time which I had not previously considered. For that I am grateful.

Pastor with First Lady and Daughter

That’s what it’s all about- being present, listening, growing and transforming. Dad taught me that. Listening to him talk about fighting racism in the South as a boy, then discrimination on his job as a man kindled a fire in me. Seeing the compassion he has for everyone, even in our community that rejected him so harshly, added wood to the embers. Being a recipient of his fatherly love and selfless guidance poured gasoline on the flames of my heart to forge a brand new woman made of pure gold. Experiencing my Dad’s servant heart gave me one.

It took about 15 years but I finally jumped in with both feet. My sister, who is one of the most beautiful and graceful women I’ve ever known, brought me to the ministry. She gave me a priceless gift in introducing me to my Dad. I was slow-going, but I got there. I was (and am) a part of the mission of “Help for the hurting“. The mission and vision that is the foundation God set up through my Dad once scared me, now I wear it as a badge of honor.

Church service color

I just made the shift. I was better and I wanted the world better- the entire world. And if I had to beat them over the head or shove it down their throats then sobeit. You see I had more learning to do. I was still going by my Mom’s and Auntie’s examples of hostile assistance. You know that kind that you almost wish you hadn’t asked for. Come to think of it, you may not have asked for it.

But you were gonna get it whether you liked it or not. It was their way or the highway. I took that attitude to witnessing, to work, and to marriage and boy was I wrong on every hand. I just needed that loving correction, that firm tenderness to say, “Girl, get it together!” Eventually I got my act together. Only this isn’t an act- I’ve begun to turn into my Dad. I’m an old softie now. I forgive people. I love them. I take my time with them. I don’t even recognize myself sometimes. Going through a near-death experience will do that to you.

I told you last time that about five years ago I was diagnosed with a chronic illness. What I didn’t tell you is that I’m a congestive heart failure survivor. I was in the ICU multiple times and flatlined multiple times. But I’m still here and it’s by God’s grace, which brings me right back to my Dad. One Sunday morning I was sitting in the back of the church hooked to an oxygen tank and so depressed. I honestly didn’t want to be there. Then, in the middle of his preaching, Dad told me that if I wanted to live I had to fight. Right there from the pulpit in front of everyone he called me out.

Girl with nasal canula

In that moment I honestly didn’t know if I had the strength to fight. But he told me that my church family would fight with me and that is what did it for me. That made me okay. Those words hold me to this day. I realize that I am not alone. I’m surrounded by a cloud of witnesses. I’m surrounded by a group of cheerleaders. I’m surrounded by a support system of doctors and midwives who won’t let me abort my mission. That’s what a father is supposed to build for you. It takes a giant of a man to do it and many aren’t up to the task. I’m incredibly blessed that I found my Dad; he does it for me every time.

Family, Parenting and Religion

Uncategorized

Previous Post

August 13, 2023

Who's Riding In Your Car?

Next Post

August 30, 2023 Reflections With My Sisters

True or False: Animals that chew the cud but do not have split hooves are considered clean to eat.

Select your answer to see how you score.

TRUE FALSE

Books by This Author Books by Live Full, Die Empty

See All Titles »