Have you challenged what you have been taught? Prophetess Claira Smith has grown in her grace by challenging the foundation that she grew up on. Operating in ministry for almost 10 years, it wasn’t until recently that she found her lane. Claira was affirmed as a prophet by taking the step and officially accepting the call to ministry in August 2018. Teaching biblical truth and helping women understand who God says they are instead of the narrative life forced on them has become a passion for Claira. Because of that passion, she launched the ministry of Crooked Tiaras. The goal is to deal with biblical teachings of purpose, worth, and Identity to teach the next generation to wear their crowns correctly.

While believers still meet Sunday after Sunday, many of our worship services no longer have the impact they once did. The body of Christ senses it, and society reflects it. If we are passionate about the things of God, there should be a concern about the health of the body of Christ. As with any illness, we have to find the source of the problem to diagnose and treat the issue properly. People, individually and collectively, make up the body of Christ. As such, the church must be willing to examine themselves to obtain a diagnosis. What are we adding positively or negatively to the church and body of Christ as a whole, and how does that affect the cause of Christ? What’s my definition of Chronically in Church? My definition is:

This definition was at the root of my understanding. So, I was dedicated to going to church. However, my biblically inaccurate understanding of what church was and what it was for was making me spiritually sick, in a sense. According to this Scripture, I was taught on the extreme: “God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another.” 1 Peter 4:10 NLT.

My training? Serving in the church was the next level of performance as a Christian. Serving in the church was the heart of God. Serving in church was how you got God’s attention. If you were not serving in the church, you barely had a relationship with God. My childhood was centered around sacrificing myself for everything and everyone else. That was what it took to be a Christian. That’s how I saw the matriarchs in my family life, so as far as I was concerned, it had to be right.

Picture this. I stood in the sanctuary, and she walked past me like I didn’t exist. If she could, she would have walked through me. I thought maybe it’s just me. I’m overthinking it. At the next service I made it my mission to make sure I spoke. I saw her, and with all the excitement I could muster, “Oh my gosh, Hey sis, you cute!” She momentarily stopped mid-step, gave a quick thank you, and sat on the other side of the sanctuary. But she told the pastor how rude I was and didn’t speak. Another Sunday: “Prophetess, I need you to open us up in prayer.” I mounted the pulpit and grabbed the stained microphone. I raised my hand to acknowledge the congregation, and she walked out. Her disdain towards me was apparent to the other members, which started more negative discourse. I asked the pastor if I should talk to her. “Well, Claira,” he said, “You do have a habit of…” going on to list everything I needed to work on to be a better minister and love people better. He described how I was never disrespectful, but I could be nicer. God said it was time to move on. I spoke with my leader, and he told me God didn’t tell him that, so that’s not right. In another instance, my then-pastor gave me his blessing, but other members later accused me of planning to sabotage the church. Me? I was simply doing my best to serve.

They used to say the walls have ears, so watch what you say because someone will always hear you. The thing about whispers is that they never stay a whisper. Unfortunately, in my case, it always got back to me. According to the whisperers, my attitude was nasty; she never heard from God; Claira was being shady when she complimented me; she thinks she is better than me, and there is nothing genuine about her. The days my character was tarnished because they felt they could do the title or position better than what I was doing currently. I never complained, confronted, or discussed it; I just showed up. Leaders openly applauded my dedication, and in true church fashion, the church publicly applauded and bullied me behind closed doors. It was a never-ending cycle.

One day after an overall great service, I sat in an empty sanctuary trying to take a moment for myself. A few people, including my leaders, came and joined me. We talked, shared our hearts, and I got some much-needed guidance. While I appreciated them allowing that intimate moment, I still was heavy. My chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it. I had a question, but I was hesitant to ask. I told myself I was reluctant because I knew they were tired. They just preached for 45 minutes and prayed for many others, not to mention we kept them after service just to talk. I was going to accept not sharing and keeping my struggles to myself. It was getting late, and everyone needed to get home anyway. But it was circulating in my thoughts, making my head hurt. They discerned the tension coming from me and told me to ask the question. If you know me, you know I stumbled my way through getting this question out, but eventually, I found my wording and asked, “At what point does long-suffering become accepting abuse?”.

Unintentionally, we, the people part of the church, have thwarted the purpose of the church. Because the heart behind our actions no longer reflects the cause of Christ, the church is suffering. As we dive into what’s wrong, I think it’s important to understand the original intent of the creation of the church.