Carole Mayhall - Come Walk with Me: A Womans Personal Guide to Knowing God and Mentoring Others

This book is dedicated to
Sonja,
dearest friend,
a woman with a heart for God
and a heart for His people.

1.

P ART O NE : B ECOMING A G ODLY W OMAN

6.

P ART T WO : B ECOMING A T ITUS W OMAN

13.

P ART T HREE : P ASSING I T O N

Where does one start when so many people have been involved in this project? But a few have helped more than they know.

Dan Rich of WaterBrook Presswho encouraged, believed in, and got behind this book. Thank you, Dan!

Liz Heaneynot just a good editor but a great one who helped shape, hone, and organize this book. She worked hard and made me work hard, too, which made this book more readable.

My daughter, Lynn, my niece, Melody, and my friend, Sonja, who added examples from living with their children that helped me a great deal.

And for those who have allowed me to be a part of their livesthey helped me much more than I helped them!

AndI saved the best for lastmy husband, Jack, who has spent hours brainstorming, listening, looking up references, and giving me massages when my back was aching from sitting at the computer all day. Thanks isnt adequateI simply couldnt have done it without him!

E xcited! That word described Jack as he returned from a trip to Long Beach, California, to look over a new ministry opportunity. Like a kid telling about attending his first big league game, his eyes lit up as he described what he had discovered about the job. Wed be moving into a large old home already furnished and occupied by four men, one woman, a couple in an apartment out back, and oh, yes, a dachshund. The people currently in charge couldnt take the dog with them to Okinawa, so they were leaving him with us. And (he threw it in quickly, hoping I wouldnt notice) the dog wasnt quite housebroken.

Jack and I would be responsible for helping men and women grow in spiritual maturity, ministry skills, and life skills; ministering to servicemen coming through a servicemens center; raising a budget that was several thousand dollars in the hole; opening our home for hospitality As Jack rambled on and on, my eyes glazed over and my mind went numb. He had no idea the effect all this was having on me, of course. But the longer he talked, the more the task looked as impossible as crawling around the world without legs!

When Jack finished telling me about this glorious opportunity we were going to have in Long Beach, I went upstairs to our bedroom, got down on my knees, and prayed, Father! Youve just heard it all. And You know I cant do it!

You also know that of all the things I dont want to do, the number one item is to fail Jack in something You have called him to doand it seems You are calling him to do this. But obviously Im going to fail both him and You in this.

So , I paused before committing myself to what I was about to ask. I think Youd better take me home to Yourself right now. Then Jack can marry someone who will be able to help him with this task.

With tremor of heart, I waited. In expectation, I waited fully anticipating that God would strike me dead on the spot. But no bolt of lightning came from the sky. No heart attack or blood clot to the brain. After ten minutes or so, I concluded that God was going to leave me among the living.

Perplexed, I prayed, All right then, Father, if You arent going to take me home, then Youll have to help me grow into to become somehow the person You need in this situation.

And God began to answer that prayer through a godly woman who taught me, trained me, and in a real way, titused me (see Titus 2:3-5).

Shortly after we moved to that big old white house on Willow Avenue in Long Beach, I began driving the frenzied freeways up to Pasadena each week. Every Wednesday morning Id put our three-year-old daughter, Lynn, in the car, and off wed go. Id only learned to drive about six months before, and the heavy traffic scared me to death. But I was desperate for helpand determinedso I would grit my teeth and head into the fray.

An hour or so later Id pull into the driveway of an even bigger old house in Pasadena where Marion lived. Marion, the wife of Jacks supervisor, was only about five years older than I was but light years more mature spirituallyand she had agreed to disciple me. She and I would closet ourselves in her spacious bedroom for a couple of hours, made possible with help from a girl working in Marions home who watched Lynn and Marions son, Ricky.

I said to Marion, Pretend Im not even a Christian. Lead me to Christ, and then teach me everything I need to know in order to grow. And please teach me in such a way that I will be able to pass on to others what I learn.

And for one year Marion did just that. She taught me everything from how to share the gospel and dig into Scripture and pray, to how to cook for twenty people. I needed to learn everything! Marion walked beside me and imprinted my life with marks of the Savior.

As I have grown spiritually, God has given me the privilege of walking beside a number of women from different backgrounds and situations: women raised in Christian homes and ones who have come to know Christ as adults; women from uncomplicated backgrounds and ones from dysfunctional families; happily married women and others in hurting relationships. Many floundered because they hadnt been helped to find practical, shoe-leather ways to live joyfully.

I remember the young single teacher who had been violated as a child by a relative, leaving her unable to know both Gods joy and a husbands love.

Then there was Norma, who tried to take her own life by overdosing on sleeping pills. God had never become real in her life.

I think of the young widow with six children who tearfully told me that God had given her the gift of introducing people to Christeven over the phonebut she didnt know how to help them move forward in their Christian walk.

I reflect on the wives and single women who longed to know God intimately but didnt know how.

In their individual ways, each of these women said to me, God promises joy, but I dont have it. Whats wrong?

Let me tell you about one woman in particular.

Sonja stood on my doorstep five inches below me, her laughing blue eyes level with mine. A breeze ruffled her blonde wedge and, noting the lithe body in blue-and-wine sweats, I guessed she was on the shy side of thirty. Curious to find out the reason shed asked to see me, I invited her in.

After settling on the couch, she took a deep breath and plunged in. Her first question came out of the blue, and I blinked.

Are you for real? she asked.

What do you mean?

Well, I heard you speak a couple of weeks ago, and I couldnt quite believe what I heard.

I raised questioning eyebrows, and she continued. Im the wife of a full-time Christian worker. I teach the Bible, and the people in my group think Ive got it all together. But , She pulled at a strand of hair, paused, and looked away. Then, making a conscious and determined decision to be open with mea strangershe continued. They dont know menot the real inside me. Its all a facade.

She produced a superficial grin as though to cover up the intensity of her feelings and blurted, You said the kind of peace and joy Im looking for are found by dwelling deeply in the Word of God. Ive never experienced real peace and joy. I had to come to ask you if what you said is really true.