Whitney Houston; God rest her soul.

So, Whitney Houston’s gone. You coulda bought me for a penny when I heard the news. It’s been almost a week and I still say at least once a day, “I can’t believe Whitney’s gone”. No, I didn’t know her and no, I wasn’t her number 1 fan. I loved most of her music and I fully acknowledge that hers was the greatest voice of our time. Regardless of whether you liked her music or not, there is no denying that she had an absolutely AMAZING voice. It’s not likely that we will ever hear a voice as wonderful as hers. As a music lover, I am saddened by the loss of such a fantastic set of pipes. That’s still not the reason her death has me stunned.

The reason is this; Whitney Houston kept me on my knees for a long, long time. She is responsible for a large part of my spiritual growth.

Let me explain. I remember when the first album came out (I had it on cassette and used to play it on my little pink radio…I know, I just dated myself). I can’t sing a lick, but I would belt out Saving All My Love For You, You Give Good Love and All at Once (that was my favorite) like I was a true “sangah”. There was always a Whitney Houston song on my top ten list, no matter what. Then, Whitney hooked up with Bobby Brown and gone was that “good girl” image. Their public “antics” made me angry and I became Whitney’s biggest critic and man, was I critical. That’s something about which The Lord still deals with me.

I ragged on Whitney and Bobby on a regular basis. It was so bad that a co-worker would leave pictures of them in my inbox just to get me going. Then, as I grew in my relationship with The Lord, I saw the error of that and He turned my heart. I repented of the nasty, negative things I’d said about the two of them and began to pray for them, especially Whitney. I prayed for her every day. Every time I got on my knees, or bowed my head; her name crossed my lips or ran through my mind…for YEARS.

In the new millennium, I was taking a class at my former church. The instructor (my mentor) asked us to bring pictures of people for whom we were praying, people we loved, people for whose salvation we were believing God. People had pictures of their parents, children, spouses, siblings, family and friends. The ONLY picture I put on the altar was one of Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown. Not a single person in my class thought that strange. They sincerely prayed with me for the two of them every day for two straight weeks. Later on, when things became publicly volatile between Whitney and Bobby, I continued to pray; and I was relieved when I learned their marriage was ending, because it seemed that was the best thing for HER and for their daughter. Still, I continued to pray.

Whitney started to make her “comeback” and I saw my prayers being answered. My mentor and the instructor of the aforementioned class said to me; “Engla, your prayers have been answered”. From that point, my prayers changed from prayers of petition to prayers of thanksgiving.

Over the past two years, my prayers for Whitney Houston slacked off. I’d still pray for her when I saw her on the news, but the every day burden seemed to have lifted. So, imagine my shock when on last Saturday night, February 11, 2012, in the middle of a 16th Birthday Party for a young lady who wasn’t expected to live past her 2nd birthday, I read that Whitney Houston was dead.

I checked Facebook on my BlackBerry and read that Whitney Houston had died. I didn’t believe it. I did a Google search and saw that The Associated Press had reported her death. I started making and receiving phone calls. The calls I made were to people who knew how long and how hard I had prayed for her. The calls that I received were from some of those same people, and from others who know my love for music and were devastated to learn that “The Voice” was no longer with us.

When I called my mentor, she said she thought I’d be the first person to call her and she reassured me that my prayers had been answered. She reminded me of the things that had gone “right” in Whitney Houston’s life. I shared the news with some of the older folks at the party and then tipped my lemonade to her memory (I do that every time someone passes). I went home and fell asleep on my family room floor, with The Bodyguard watching me on my flat screen television.

When I got up the next morning, I got ready for church as usual and on my way there, I heard her rendition of “I Love The Lord” on the radio; that's when I lost it. I sobbed in my car like I had lost my best friend. I cried loud and I cried hard. I pulled up in the church parking lot and called one of my friends and prayer partners. I could barely get the words out when she answered. I asked her if she remembered my prayers for Whitney and I said; “What if I stopped praying for her too soon?” My dear friend talked me through that moment and assured me that if the prayer burden lifted, I had done what I was supposed to do. She reminded me that prayers aren’t always answered in the way we’d like or even expect.

After we talked, I got myself together enough to go inside and go to the altar in the Sanctuary. I got on my knees and cried out to The Lord for the souls of the lost. I repented for the arrogance of The Church in our neglecting to pray for souls instead of fighting and praying for our own selfish gain. I repented for the way in which we neglect to carry out the Great Commission as outlined in Matthew 28: 18-20 (KJV) “And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”

I prayed and I cried and I cried and I prayed and I searched Scripture and I cried and prayed some more.

In the days since, I have listened primarily to Whitney’s music and changed the background on my PC to a new picture of her every day, which I'll continue to do until her funeral service (that’s something else I always do when someone passes). I have also felt in my spirit that I did not stop praying too soon and that my prayers were indeed answered.

I fully believe that sometimes, in His Infinite Wisdom, The Lord calls home those who have accepted Him, but lack the strength to continue to battle their personal demons. He grants them the only kind of deliverance that will last; He takes them from this earth so that they will not fully self-destruct.

I don’t claim to know the state of Whitney Houston’s soul; only God does. I do believe that she believed in Jesus, and I believe that He called her Home to give her a peace she was never going to find in this world.

With that in mind, if I could say anything to her, it would be this;

“You impacted my life in a much bigger way than just being a fantastic singer. God used your life to stretch me spiritually and draw me closer to Him, and He used your death to remind me of my responsibility as someone who claims The Name of Jesus. Rest in Peace, Whitney Houston. Never having met you, I loved you dearly. Thank you.”