SPIRIT OVER MIND, NOT MIND OVER SPIRIT

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It was the summer of 1994 and the spiritual atmosphere was electric. We had just launched the Full Gospel Baptist Church Fellowship (FGBCF), and held our first annual conference at the Louisiana Superdome with twenty-five thousand people in attendance. God had spoken clearly and definitively: This sovereign move of His Spirit was for such a time as this.

Not long after, things started to change.

We built a dynamic team of ministers who contributed greatly to the success of this new endeavor. As time passed, however, differences of theological opinion arose in our council meetings. By and large, we were working through them and coming to an agreement; but some members couldn't get past certain church traditions. I had to stand firm because I knew what God had called me to do. God's assignment for the FGBCF was to change forward, not to retreat back into what we had always known.

About two years after starting the movement, God shook the ranks of leadership. Some of my close associates left our fellowship. I started doing damage control to avoid losing other colleagues when I realized that leaving people in key roles who I knew didn't fully support the cause would ultimately result in more problems.

I realized the issue was that I didn't immediately see God's process. He had put certain people in place for a period of time to validate the movement and help get it started. It was never God's plan for everyone who was there in the beginning to remain.

Changing forward challenges our thinking. It requires a process of putting the truth of the Spirit over what might seem right at the time. This might be difficult, but it is a biblical concept—a spiritual mindset. In one of my favorite sermons, called "So That," I explain this. The premise comes from Matthew 16:25: "For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it."

Years ago I ran across a poem that flows perfectly within this premise. God gave me a strong utterance whenever I communicated it to others. Somewhat paraphrased, it says:

I asked God for strength, that I might achieve. I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey. I asked for health, that I might do greater things. I was given infirmity, that I might do better things. I asked for riches, that I might be happy. I was given poverty, that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the praise of men. I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given life that I might enjoy all things.

God adds a "so that" to our process. God permits certain things to happen in our lives "so that" we may gain insight and change forward. By the time I founded FGBCF, I had learned this well. It was time to change forward. I'm so glad that I did.

You really can't see what God wants you to see until you go through His "so that" process. Romans 8:28 clearly says: "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose" (KJV). Nothing in this life takes place by accident. God knows everything that's going to happen before it happens. He works out the "so thats" in our lives for His purpose and for our good.

Through the years, God has worked His process in me "so that" I would be prepared to step into and maximize every destiny assignment. I am humbled when I think back to where God has brought me and I can see now how God has worked all things together for my greater good.

Now, let's walk through my story. As we go, I pray God gives you clarity and victory in your own "so that" process.

I continuously give thanks to God for the blessing of my three children. Jasmine, my oldest daughter, really loves the Lord and became one of the greatest church administrators a senior pastor could have. She was always focused and had finesse in dealing with people and handling the business of church. My only son, P. J., is a gifted musician and singer and has an uncanny drive for perfection. Christiann, my younger daughter, is so special to me. Her creative mind and technical use of graphics has positioned her for greatness in several areas. Each of them has continuously been a blessing to our family.

Jasmine is married to Elvin Ross, a musical producer for many of the Tyler Perry plays and films. They have two sons, Elvin Jr. and London Paul, and evidence is clear that I love them more than words can say. P. J. is married to Kortni and they have two sons, JaKai and Paul Morton III. Christy is unmarried but would probably tie the knot immediately, if she didn't know that her allowance would be discontinued. I think she's almost ready but I still consider her my "spoiled baby."

We have a solid and stable fun-loving family and because of the combination of my seriousness about things and my wife's humor, the family has balance. Much of that family stability and balance were shaken in March, 2003, after my Wednesday Night Bible Study in New Orleans. I received a call from Jasmine and Elvin, who were residing in Atlanta with my precious granddaughter, Kai. At eighteen months old, she was my only grandchild. She was just beginning to talk. When they would visit New Orleans or we went to Atlanta, she would always jump up in my arms, calling me, "Papa" and calling my wife, "GiGi." She was my heart. She made herself at home in our house and knowing where our bedroom was located, she would push the door open without knocking. With her, we were on top of the world and we always had the expectation of getting a call from them at night, telling us about what she had done that day.

The call that night from Jasmine was alarmingly different. We were already in bed and I could tell something was wrong from her voice. Her words are imprinted even now in my mind: "Dad, Dad, pray! I'm in my car, taking Kai to the hospital. She's not responding. Daddy, her lips are turning blue. Pray, Daddy, pray!" Her frantic pleas for my prayers and my desire for God to intervene literally collided. With them at the Atlanta hospital emergency room, my wife and I walked and prayed and prayed and walked, determined to remove the effects of what we would have rather believed to have been a bad dream. It wasn't a bad dream.

It was too late to catch a commercial flight to Atlanta, so we chartered a plane. I was praying, "Lord, if I could just get to my grandbaby and hold her and pray for her in my arms." It was too late. Jasmine called as we were getting ready to fly and told me the three hardest words that I could ever hear: "Daddy, she's gone." Kai had died from a virus that could not have been prevented from its path of destruction in her body.

I had experienced the intense emotional pain of losing a father, mother, and sister, but there was no replicate pain like this in my history. I asked God to help me through the moment, not just for me, but for my family. Though my children were grown, they were still at the level of believing that "Daddy can get us out of anything!" I had been the "strong daddy," but at this point I felt weak and helpless. This was more than grief and bereavement. These feelings exacted great remorse and inner conflict.

Through my ministry gifts, I had comforted thousands of people, but this one was extremely hard on me. My wife and I cried many days together in what seemed our weakest moments, but we realized we had to be just as strong together. Our pain was perhaps compounded and seemed almost unbearable because of its effect on Jasmine and Elvin. The knowledge of their pain was even more difficult.

How It All Began

I was born in Windsor, Ontario, Canada, to Clarence and Matilda Morton. At the time of my birth, my father was fifty-three years old—twenty-three years older than my mother. We lived right across the river from Detroit, Michigan. These two cities were near to each other geographically, but they were very different culturally. There were about two hundred thousand people living in Windsor, with only 1 percent of the population being African Canadian. In contrast, the City of Detroit had a population of more than 1.5 million and was predominantly African American, Thousands of African Americans had migrated there from the South to find jobs in the automotive plants, which resulted in the proliferation of great African American churches and pastors, as well as the R&B (that is, Motown) music industry.

I was the seventh of nine Morton siblings. I had three brothers: Clarence Jr., George, and James; and five sisters: Ruby, Nancy, Gwendolyn, Jacqueline, and Jeanetta. (We're all still trying to figure out how our parents made it with that many children in the house at the same time.) My brothers and sisters thought I was "spoiled" because they say I got away with so much. They viewed me as his "baby boy," since I was the youngest son. I think this was probably more their imagination than fact.

Our father was an anointed preacher, an effective leader, and a prophet. I was told that after I was born, he held me up before his congregation and told them he was giving me the name "Paul" because I would be a "great preacher." He had prophesied the preaching anointing on all of his sons. Our father wanted each one of us to preach, but I received the gift of the prophetic office.

There was balance in the Morton household. Our mother had a very strong temperament, a firm hand, and was the primary disciplinarian. She didn't play around. It seemed Proverbs 13:24 was our parents' motto: "He who spares his rod hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines him promptly." They never failed to activate this verse when our behavior warranted it.

Low self-esteem was forbidden. We could never use the excuse with our parents that someone "didn't like us" or was "smarter than us." They insisted that we were Mortons and to conduct ourselves accordingly. Now, don't get me wrong. We didn't use our family name as an excuse to defy authority; nor did we see ourselves as being better than others. We did, however, develop a deep sense of family pride. Our parents instilled many strong values in us and demonstrated to us daily how we should live our lives with excellence.

An Abiding Spiritual Legacy

Our father was a recognized visionary. Born in the 1800s, he was denied a formal education but was given a miraculous gift of reading. The Lord called him to preach at age sixteen. Since he couldn't read, our father fasted and prayed for days with his face in the Bible, and when he raised his head he could read. He went to his mother, read aloud to her, and asked whether he had read the text correctly. With astonishment, she replied, "Yes!"

From the day he was called to preach, our father would teach and preach to anyone he met. Ultimately, he memorized the majority of the Bible.

Miracles like the one God performed for my father are seldom understood, but they can't be disputed. God will equip and use whomever He chooses. He sovereignly gives His chosen vessels whatever they may lack to ensure His work is accomplished. God gave my father what he could not have obtained otherwise at the time He surrendered to preach. Now, that's a powerful "so that" testimony! God is able to take people others dismiss as being without value and make them prominent.

When God calls you and activates His anointing in your life, you don't get to choose whether or not you're able to carry out His assignment. Moses was a perfect example of this. At first, he tried to tell God he couldn't deliver the Israelites out of Egypt. God didn't take no for an answer. He sovereignly gave Moses what he needed to get the job done. (Read Exodus 3:1–4:17.) God did the same thing for my father, and He'll do it for you and me.

By the Lord's mighty hand, my father became the pastor of "one church in two locations," actually, in two countries, Canada and America. Eventually, he planted more than thirteen churches (in both countries) during his lifetime.

All of the Morton children learned to respect the "man of God"—the preacher. When other preachers came to town, our parents invited them to stay in our home. Because of this, we interacted with some of the greatest church leaders who had ever lived.

Bishop C. H. Mason, founder of the Church of God in Christ (which became one of the largest Pentecostal movements in history) was a frequent visitor in our home. Our parents would always call upon him to lead us in prayer at the dining table before meals. Bishop Mason prayed long prayers. Some of them were so long that my mother had to reheat the food before we could eat it. Yet, we learned to sit silently until he concluded prayer.

Being a preacher's kid (PK) definitely has its challenges. People expected more of us, and we were compelled to rise to the expectations of others. Baseball games and movies weren't part of our upbringing. He feared that if we were good at sports, we might become professional athletes and miss our calling as ministers.

You could say the Morton siblings had a unique childhood "so that" we could ultimately carry on our father's work. That was his dream and vision. Eventually, his heart's desire came to pass.

CHOOSING TO MAKE THINGS BETTER

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No matter how good or bad your situation may be, you can always choose to make things better. By the grace of God, this ethic has been part of me for as long as I can remember. I had good and bad days, but my foundation was good. God had placed seeds of destiny in me, and He's done the same for you.

When I was in elementary school, one of my white friends got angry with me and called me the "N-word." I wanted so badly to hit him, but didn't. Instead, I felt I could straighten him out with my "smart English." I told him, almost as if I were preaching, "Look at my skin. God had me in 'Heaven's oven' and I'm 'well-done.' Look at you. God didn't finish you. You're only 'half done.' God didn't have time to finish you." I was surprised when he started crying, and through his tears said, "I want to be like you."

The only black student in my class, I soon found out that most of my white friends wanted to "be like me." One day during recess, my friend and five other boys were lying on the ground trying to get "well-done"—like me. They were so serious about it that one of their parents came to the school and asked, "Who is this Paul Morton who told my child he 'wasn't done,' and convinced my child that he could be his color?"

I was summoned to the principal's office, along with the classmate who had called me the "N-word." As I left, I heard one of my teachers say, "Now, that's a powerful fellow!" I was in fifth grade, about ten years old, when I first realized I had the potential to bring about change.

Another time, during music class, I took over the classroom when the teacher had briefly left the room. Without her permission, I sat down at the piano. Someone else went to the drums, and we started a "jam session." When the teacher returned, she knew I had been the ringleader and immediately sent me to the principal's office for disrupting the class.

I knew the routine. That meant I would get three "straps" (hits) on each hand. I had been through all the possible "strapping" categories before. I was determined to take it like a man.

However, on this day the principal didn't follow the same routine. They told me that my teacher had decided to call my father. I panicked and screamed: "No! Please don't do that!" Apparently, they thought my father was going to discipline me over the phone. My dad talked with me for a few minutes, and then told the teacher to send me home.

Since we lived twelve blocks from the school, she asked if he was going to pick me up. Emphatically he replied, "No!" When I got home my dad called the teacher, and then he took off his belt and "went to town" on me. I knew not to act tough when he was punishing me. The tougher we acted, the longer he used the belt. He wanted to see and hear us cry. I cried! I hollered, even before he touched me, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I won't do it anymore! Please, Daddy. I'm sorry!"

When he was finished, my father picked up the phone again and said, "He's on his way back now. Good-bye!" By the time I walked back I really was fine, but my teacher was waiting. She ran to me with open arms, "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "Are you all right?" I went into acting mode, pretending to cry. I slowly lifted my eyes and asked, "Why did you send me home?" She never called my father again.

So, my gift of leadership had surfaced, but there was obviously still some work to do. I'm sure you can remember times when you flowed in your gifts and your calling without realizing it. Are you still changing forward, maximizing the abilities He has given you.