Filling The Well
2018 was a tumultuous year for me.
At the start of the year…I was ecstatic for all that I was believing God to do. I had an entire list of goals, a huge vision board and abundant dreams that I fervently believed God would fulfill.
But while it’s exciting to plan visions and goals, the truth is-- we make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.
Which I assume is why, 31 days into the New Year…my life turned upside down.
On February 2, I received a phone call that my father, suffered a massive heart attack.
He was fighting for his life on a ventilator in the cardio thoracic unit in St. Anne’s hospital in Toledo, OH.
I spent 16 days by his bedside, wondering if he would survive, if so, how would his recovery process be, and if i would need to leave my job and relocate to Michigan to walk it out with him.
I could not predict the many things we would go on, in fact, to accomplish together. What I know without question, however, is that GOD was responsible for all those moments that came after.
And I believe all that happened since I sat at my father’s bedside that day happened because HE needed me to speak about the miraculous power of God – the divine ability He has to heal, deliver, set free and restore – even in the midst of tragedy and pain.
In Malachi 4:5-6, God speaks “Behold, I am going to send Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of the LORD. I will restore the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers, so that I will not come and smite the land with a curse.
I believe it is God’s heart to restore this most essential relationship within the fabric of natural families in the earth – that between the fathers and his children.
My name is Rebekah Sharpe… I am a daughter, sister, friend and a God-fearing woman and I can’t remember a time when GOD was not part of my life.
Growing up, I remember the bible was always in our home in every room in our home; we had biblical movies, storybooks and times of study. We read passages of scripture together, attended church regularly and stayed active in our local assembly.
So it’s no wonder my siblings and I were each named after women in the book of Genesis.
Leah, Sarah, Hannah and of course myself, Rebekah.
I’ve been told that my name can mean “water carrier” —— and water in the scripture is often representative of the spirit.
I’m not sure if my father picked my first name because the funny thing is, we didn’t really talk about MY first name so much.
Maybe it’s because his name was the one that was so popular, at least out west in Phoenix. Everyone there seems to know my father--- Luis Sharpe. Even today, his name and number, are legendary.
Number 67. Cardinals Tackle. 1982 NFL Draft pick.
6 foot 5. 275 pounds. 3 Time Pro Bowl NFL star.
I am the second eldest child of Luis Sharpe and by starting this blog, my hope is to share my story in order to inspire hope for you or someone you may know.
You see, my dad achieved tremendous accolades on and off the field—- you name it—- he had it. From luxury cars and multimillion dollar contracts to screaming Cardinals fans cheering his name “Luis Sharpe”.
He was good looking, smart and an athlete— the fans loved him. They adored him. And so did I.
My dad was proof of the American dream—- a native of Cuba, growing up in the very humble roots of SW Detroit, who made it all the way to the top. He was on TV not just playing— but later a commentator too. Friends described him at that time as generous, a leader— even on the NFL players association board, a man who read the bible, attended church and instilled in me my faith in GOD.
I didn’t know it back then, but by teaching me about faith, he gave me a gift for a lifetime. It would prove to be a life jacket of sorts, saving me through the most difficult times.
I remember my dad would recite scripture all the time and by the time I was eight, I could too.
Scripture like, “Be strong and courageous – do not be discouraged for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
AND Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future
And my dad—- always had a preacher or two nearby too.
I remember them stopping by our house, which at the time was a white mansion with huge columns on one of the nicest blocks in all of Phoenix. My parent’s bedroom was the size of my current apartment.
We were really living the good life with extravagant international vacations, glamorous family photoshoots, grandiose NFL parties, VIP entrance into exclusive local events, preferential treatment almost anywhere that we went in the valley.
It was a dream childhood.
The kind of life we now see displayed on social media with all of the perfect hashtags attached.
But when I was eight years old, everything totally changed.
My parents divorced.
And just a year or two before the divorce, my dad suffered a crippling knee injury— and in that devastating moment— his 13 year career came to an end.
Life would never be the same — it would be a struggle.
In the years that followed, and I can’t tell you exactly when, my dad became a different person. Instead of playing on the field, he was now battling a different opponent in the streets.
My father, Luis Sharpe, the talented, NFL legend and multimillionaire, became a crack cocaine addict.
In fact, I vividly remember one of the headlines in the local paper “Football Hero to Crackhead Zero” -- this was the new title he now had in the city of PHX.
And as his drug abuse skyrocketed, our home became more dysfunctional, dangerous and broken.
The NFL money was dwindling fast— hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on cheap motels, drugs and random women. The arrests for drug possession airing on the nightly news, sadly started to become normal for our family.
I recall sitting around a friend’s dinner table with her family, tuned into the nightly news, and there I saw police place my father under arrest. I felt extreme shame and handicapping fear -- not knowing if this would be the final time that I would see my dad.
And Later on, the nightly news is how I also found out my dad got shot.
He was shot twice during two separate incidents—- one of them had him just 1 centimeter away from dying.
But Even that close call with death, could not help him start living on the right path again.
The run-ins with the law continued.
By nine years old, I was now visiting my dad in prison.
Rather than talking to him around our grand marble kitchen, I was making collect phone calls and writing heartfelt letters. I was young and confused while my dad was shackled and in a prison uniform, serving various sentences for the same crime -- drug possession.
At the time, I associated criminals with bad guys—- those who physically hurt people.
But the father I knew did not do that at all…he was still that football star.
But his poor decisions led my siblings and I to grow up fast. And at times with tremendous pain and frustration.
I didn’t know it then, but I was broken. Broken-hearted. Emotional. And angry.
Over the years and the many episodes of feeling extreme terror at the thought of losing my dad to gun violence or a drug overdose, I realized how my dad’s addiction changed each of us.
My mother began to abuse alcohol and my siblings and I found trouble in school while our neighbors were no longer the friendly neighbors we once knew them to be. As a child, I felt excruciating pain watching my seemingly perfect world begin to fall apart—- I felt the security of HIS love completely ripped away. My parents were not present and the world felt colder.
And eventually, the dysfunction led to my family splitting apart.
I made a very difficult decision to stay in Michigan one summer after my family and I visited for the summer. So now, across the country from my siblings, I was being raised by my grandparents.
But my time in Michigan proved to be miraculous. It was the start of the process of reconciliation.
GOD provided me with a new chance to start over.
Now in a positive environment with the love of a father, my grandfather, Michigan proved to be a chance to focus on myself, rather than all of the mess that was happening around me.
It reminded me of 2 Corinthians 5:17 where we learn that, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
And while I was not fully living for Christ in that moment, God in His holiness, was birthing something new and allowing the old things to pass away in my life.
I no longer felt unsafe, depressed and full of shame. My new outlook on life came as a result of the love of family; my heart was softened, and I finally began to receive what I had longed for my entire life -- care, guidance and nurturing.
This was where my grandparents helped to cultivate me into the woman I am today and it’s also where I rediscovered my faith and the idea that this new life could be look a lot different from the chaos that I was running away from.
This is where a lot of hope was born out of that reconciliation.
And speaking of faith, it would also prove to be a source of comfort, even in college.
Because after spending that time with my grandparents and allowing my spirit to be nurtured by their love, I would excel in my studies and go on to be accepted into the University of Michigan.
But Little did I know, how much I would need my God in my life, after my freshman year.
I’ll never forget June 26, 2007.
Just after 1pm, I got THE call that changed my life.
Leah - my oldest sister who was loyal, creative and brilliant was murdered.
She was shot in the head.
Her cold body, lay in a South Phoenix alley way.
As you can imagine, in that moment, I had many questions for GOD.
But one thing I now know is that God was with our family even in that tragic moment.
Of all people, a Catholic couple walking by, found Leah’s body in the alley.
And before the police even got there, they anointed her body.
Even in her death, God offered an incredible piece of comfort for Leah and our family, through those strangers.
Still--- I had so many questions for GOD.
Why did you take her away from me?
Why does the murderer get to live in prison, and my sister is gone?
Why does life have to be so difficult.
Despite my many questions, I also knew that I needed to be strong for my mother, father, and other family members who were grieving.
Because as I mentioned before, my name Rebekah, means spirit carrier. And that’s part of who I am.
Through the grace of God, I was able to be that pillar of strength and light for my family.
But it was still tough, and everyone grieved differently. My sister’s tragic death, sent my father down another dark path, and it would take a long time before he would see the light again.
But I think at the start of 2018 – he finally did.
After a routine treadmill workout, he got off the machine, felt tightness in his chest, and collapsed. As he laid in the Emergency room, we learned he had a massive heart attack in which his LAD artery was 98% blocked.
After spending two weeks at his bedside, watching him on a ventilator, discussing options with Dr’s and hearing them say that his survival was a miracle – it is a testament that there was transformation occurring in those moments - and not just physical transformations but an ALL AROUND miracle.
Our conversations during the long hours in the hospital led us to where we are today; collaborating in the way we do to bring audiences the Sharpe Talk Show, to grow the Sharpe Strong Foundation and to be apart of the NFL’s Hall of Fame Behavioral Health Work.
Looking back, I’m amazed at the work our Heavenly Father has done because we BOTH left that hospital healed and restored -- only through the power of God. We are here today because God healed both of us during that 16 day hospital stay. We experienced the word coming to life – God touched our hearts and used what the enemy meant for evil, to reconcile our relationship, just as He promised He would.
What a faithful God we serve!
And don’t get me wrong - it has not always been easy since that hospital stay.
There are still remnants from those years of destruction and chaos.
The addiction has impacted each of us differently and some are still struggling to find their way out of bitterness and unforgiveness.
I write this today knowing that I am a recipient of the daily new mercies of God and that I have to continuously work to practice forgiveness and compassion for my family – and for myself.
For years, I sat in pews seeing others celebrate Father’s Day with sadness in my heart because mine was absent – many times I didn't even know where he was to give him a call and extend the holiday greeting to him.
I even struggled with accepting the agape, unconditional love of God, because of the negative connotation the word Father had for me.
After-all, Father is defined as – a protective covering, a leader, the priest of the home. But for me, when I would hear that word, the enemy would always cause me to rehearse the emotionally tormenting images of father, which quite frankly, made it very difficult for me to fully embrace God as a good, good Father.
But, I thank God for His patience.
He is truly full of grace and continues to gently nudge us to align with the great plan He has for our lives.
Today, I am walking in unison with His purpose for my life and I am grateful.
It is a daily work of sanctification that can only be done through the renewing of my mind and heart.
Work that can only be done by intentionally seeking to worship God and exalt His infallible word over my feelings, circumstances and issues.
Working through forgiveness not only for my dad who continues to battle, but also for the man who murdered my sister and is still serving time in prison.
It’s also important to note that through all of this work, God has placed many other tools in my belt to help me heal.
I have a dynamic church family that has led me to deliverance, inner healing and peace.
I have mentors, spiritual mothers and fathers, sisters in Christ who pour into me and are shaping the woman that God has called me to be.
I also try to pour into others by leading a Thursday morning prayer call (drop a comment if you’d like more info), organizing city wide events designed to uplift people and recently being ordained as a Minister at my church in Pittsburgh, PA.
And while I still ask God many questions, I also recognize the importance of turning to the bible for answers.
Because I’ve come to learn that he has already left us a blueprint for so much of what we are to experience of our days here on earth. And my faith is stirred after all that has happened because I know without doubt that our heavenly father is watching out for everyone of us.
If you’re reading this, I’m asking you to bask in his comfort.
I encourage you no matter what you’re going through to be inspired to hope after heartbreak, to dream beyond the darkness and to never stop believing in how the Lord truly will give beauty for ashes, joy for mourning and a garment of praise for a spirit of heaviness.
God can use brokenness to birth greatness.
And if my story is not enough, consider:
-the alabaster box of perfume had to be broken before the fragrance filled the room
-the five loaves and two fishes had to be broken before the manifestation of the miracle
-Jesus said “This is my body which is BROKEN for you”
He is so worthy to be praised – even in the brokenness – He is causing all of it to work together for our good!
Today, and I expect always…my deepest desire is to honor the life of my sister, and the best way for me to do that, is through the way I intentionally live my own.
For many years, I hesitated to share this story, because the pain was too great to bear. But now I know, sharing this story is part of my mission, to honor my sister and bring awareness to so many of the tragic incidents that touch our communities and the sacredness of our families.
Because we know, that what happens to one person in a family, impacts us all, in one way or another.
