In a Bible study last year we had watched a Luis Giglio video. He shared how in the world we will have trouble. He said people don't like to hear that, but scripture tells us that and it's true. So who am I and what has God done for me?
Here is how my four year old grandson sees me. He was drawing his family picture: his mom, dad, two brothers, himself, Buster the dog, papa Del and then he turned to me and said, "Nana, I have to draw you BIG and WIDE." I told him that was OK. So he began to draw - this HUGE person with messy hair. I thought, "Oh NO, the kids sees me as a huge monster with messy hair." He must have seen the look on my face and he said, "That's your bed head" and he kept drawing and then redeemed himself as he made a big smile on my face that went from ear to ear. I hope that is how people see me. A happy person filled with God's joy.
I had a normal childhood with some Bible teaching, but didn't come to know the Lord personally until I was thirty years old. I was married to Del and we had two children, Christine and Steven.
We were community leaders in the small town we lived in along with our close friends Scott and Linda.
Linda learned of a Bible study going on, and I decided to go with her. I joined in the conversation but at the close of the evening, one of the ladies said to me, "Sharon, you have Bible knowledge, but nothing in your heart." I asked her what she meant. She told me to read John chapter 3. In the quiet of my bedroom that night I read John 3 and when I finished I asked Jesus into my heart.
Within a few months all four of us - Scott, Linda, Del and I knew the Lord personally, and we changed dramatically.
We moved back to a town we'd lived in before and the word was out that we were Christians now. I guess everyone wondered what we were like now, so a group of the ladies sent a friend over to check me out. She went back to report that I still had the same personality but I didn't swear anymore.
We had our third child, a daughter Colleen. We were dedicated to raising our children in a Christian home. We moved again and became very involved in our local church. We lived a normal life.
In 1991 our oldest daughter Christine graduated and went off the Bible College in the fall. She finished a year there and then went to college to become a teacher.
When Christine was twenty-one she became pregnant and was very sick, so she quit school and had the baby.
When our new grandson Mitchell was a month old, Colleen and I went to visit them. I stayed at my parents home. Late one night there was a knock at the door. I answered the door and Christine was there with two police officers. This was every parent's worst nightmare coming true. One of the police officers said, "Steven is dead and Tamara is critically injured." I went into deep shock but I remembered them telling me Steven shot Tamara and then turned the gun on himself. Tamara was his girlfriend whom he loved very much.
I was connected by phone to the police in our town and the office said to me, "Sharon, can you help us shed some light on this? Was Steven on drugs?"
I said, "I know he had tried steroids but he didn't like what they were doing to him so he threw them out." The officer said, "That's the missing piece to this puzzle."
We were ignorant about steroids at the time but learned later that steroids are a drug that you have to be weaned off, you can't just quit cold turkey mid cycle, which is what Steven did.
Our lives changed forever that night. Steven was dead and Tamara was paralyzed from the waist down. We couldn't see Tamara at first because the incident was being investigated as an attempted murder/suicide. After the investigation it was called an accidental shooting/suicide. We'll never know the whole story of what led up to that night, we just know the results.
A few days after this happened, I remember our youngest daughter asking me, "Mom, will our lives ever be normal again? - whatever normal is." I couldn't answer that question, but I could tell her that God loves us and He will get us through and I can still say that today.
We wanted to do our best for Tamara so we made arrangements for me to take her to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. Just before leaving, we stopped at the local high school where I worked and told the vice principal about what I was doing. She said "Rochester, Minnesota, my aunt and uncle and cousins live there, I'll phone my cousin to look after you."
Her cousin wasn't sure at first, but agreed to meet us at the airport and look after us. The whole experience of being at the Mayo Clinic was overwhelming for us. Tamara was told that the bullet couldn't be removed from her back as it was too close to the spinal column. The doctor did tell her he would pray that she would walk again one day. He also talked to both of us about Steven and we both told him we held no anger towards him. Tamara's parents felt no anger towards Steven either as we all felt he wasn't in his right mind when he shot Tamara.
Some days we talk about our son and weep and weep. Other days we can tell funny stories about him. We loved him dearly and he loved us. We were blessed to have him for eighteen years.
The Lord uses us to minister to families who have lost a child, the pain is indescribable. It never goes away for us, but it does soften with time.
Our grandson Mitchell will be eighteen this month. We now have six grandchildren. We are blessed!
Tamara is still paralyzed but we pray for a complete healing for her. She is married to a wonderful young man from the neighboring town, so we see them whenever they come home to see his parents. They have a two year old son.
Psalm 146:5 says, "Happy is he who has the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God."
I am happy in the Lord and pray that each of you will be too - no matter what your circumstances are - God will help you through. God loves you.
Praying for those who have lost children, hurting parents.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Friday, December 21, 2012
LETTER TO GOD
Dear God,
I want to thank you for the 59+ years I have walked on this beautiful planet...for the husband I was married to for 19 years and the two awesome boys I had with him.. thank you to my great mother-in-law who has been my best friend and mother for 38 years, thank you for my parents who adopted a little baby girl after they had raised 6 before me and thank you for giving me Bob when I had given up on ever finding love again...thank you for the education that I pursued as a nutritionist, personal trainer, make-up artist, massage therapist and Neuro-muscular therapist...I know I helped so many people with my hands, that were your hands and words that were your words, there is no doubt in my mind that you were working miracles then and continue to do so...You have brought the masses to their feet and made them see that there is so much more charity in this world than I ever thought to imagine. Where there is charity there is hope for a bett
er tomorrow. Where there is hope there is love that comes from the very hearts and souls of the givers...this is what my dying has taught me...the lessons have been slowly learned and my teacher is never tired of showing me what life is all about...so I thank you my Father for this lesson and I will be very happy when summer vacation gets here so I can rest a while and then learn some more about helping others who are lost and are seeking Your truth...I am thankful for the life I have lived even though it was full of pain and hard times, I will look at these times as the best of times to learn what I needed to learn to be in Your grace and mercy. My life will end here but I will be reborn into Heaven. Just like a flower that returns every year more beautiful than the year before from the love and nurturing it has received. You all have given me the love and nurturing so I can bloom in Heaven. I will never forget any of you...I love you all!
Patricia Palleschi
Patricia died on December 3, 2012 at the age of 59 yrs of cervical cancer
Friday, March 16, 2012
DANA'S STORY
It was three years ago that I finally thanked God for my life. Up until then I was so lost. I know now that I wasn't but honestly I felt like I was worthless and would never have His love or for that matter any other person's. I know now that I, Dana, am His creation! I believe He has plans for me but the years I spent not believing, not loving, not living.....I thought were wasted. I was wrong. He WAS acting in my life all along. Powerful acts, some not understandable, some horrific, ALL confusiong. I never understood why I was given the abusive mother, the step brother who raped me as a child, the father who abandoned me, let alone the birth of my severly handicapped daughter who died when she was 21. Yes, I went to Catholic schools and church and yes, I thought all of those 'bad' things that happened were a punishment for my sins, so I turned my back. I stopped kneeling. I stopped looking up. Anger was my life, no faith. All was gone, or so I thought.
I believe now that God created Me! He exclaimed in joy at His cxreation! I wasn't the bad little girl who deserved what my mother did to me. I wasn't the bad little girl whose daddy abandoned her and I wasn't the bad person who deserved to have a handicapped child. NO, I know now that He was preparing ME for His precious gift. A gift for me! A gift of purpose on earth and I hope in Heaven. By living through those tormenting years and surviving, my 'gift' is now realized. I honestly believe He was preparing me so that I could and would handle and accept this wondrous gift and use it to glorify Him! He gave me a gift of compassion for others.
What I think is that from all the abuse, sorrow, grief for what wasn't, He was preparing me to act, and acting I have been doing through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. My heart is so filled with desire to help others. Not for glorification of myself, No, not for attention, but solely to help others in their time of need. All of my 'acts' are done with a heart full of mercy and compassion. My 'gifts' from God. Just as he performed 'acts' on me, I now can Act for Him by loving others and freely giving of myself in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
I believe now that God created Me! He exclaimed in joy at His cxreation! I wasn't the bad little girl who deserved what my mother did to me. I wasn't the bad little girl whose daddy abandoned her and I wasn't the bad person who deserved to have a handicapped child. NO, I know now that He was preparing ME for His precious gift. A gift for me! A gift of purpose on earth and I hope in Heaven. By living through those tormenting years and surviving, my 'gift' is now realized. I honestly believe He was preparing me so that I could and would handle and accept this wondrous gift and use it to glorify Him! He gave me a gift of compassion for others.
What I think is that from all the abuse, sorrow, grief for what wasn't, He was preparing me to act, and acting I have been doing through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. My heart is so filled with desire to help others. Not for glorification of myself, No, not for attention, but solely to help others in their time of need. All of my 'acts' are done with a heart full of mercy and compassion. My 'gifts' from God. Just as he performed 'acts' on me, I now can Act for Him by loving others and freely giving of myself in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Friday, August 5, 2011
GLORIA'S STORY
II Timothy 1:7
"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
I grew up in a Christian home and have gone to church as long as I can remember. At the age of 7, my parents took me with them to hear Billy Graham in Portland, Oregon. I can still remember the smell of sawdust on the floor and sitting under a big tent to hear him in one of his first revivals. He said that each person had to make a decision whether to accept the gift of salvation or not. That we cannot get to heaven on our parents beliefs but have to make a personal decision about which way we will go. I felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to walk up that aisle and I did that, even through at that young age I did not fully understand what it would mean to me in my life as I grew up.
From that moment on, I knew that I would never be alone in my life. There have been many times when I needed God and knew that He was there for me.
After I was married, my husband was drafted into the Army. We had only been married five months.
I knew that I would have to live alone and that there was a possibility that my husband might not come back from service in the Army.
I was reading my Bible and discovered the verse in II Tim. 1:7. Every day when I drove to work from our little rental house out in the country, I would start to feel fearful and would recite that verse out loud in the car. It helped me so much. I have needed that verse at many other times in my life when I would feel panic or anxiety about something.
When our son was injured in a motorcycle accident as a teen and we sat in the waiting room of ICU, I remember how that verse came back to me and I would find peace in the promise of God.
Then, when I was going through hospitaliation myself with several surgeries, that verse would come to me. I know that God was with me in those times.
Recently, I have been going through some trials with my mother who is almost 96. She has been in a nursing home for almost two years and even though her mind is still quite good, she had begun to doubt her faith and whether God even hears her prayers anymore. She feels abandoned by God because she wanted to go "home" to be with the Lord but for some reason, He has not taken her from her helpless body.
I just realized that perhaps I was asked to write this because I needed to be reminded of the verse that has helped me for over 40 years. I am going to share that verse with my mother today. I pray that it will help her.
There is another verse that has helped me so much in my life. There have been a lot of heartbreaks in my family, as there is in most families. As I paged through my favorite Bible today, I found a notation by this verse and will share it with my mother, too.
This is the part that really spoke to me today.
Psalm 34:18-19, "The Lord is close to those whose hearts are breaking: The good man (or woman) does not escape all troubles - but the Lord helps him in each and every one."
"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."
I grew up in a Christian home and have gone to church as long as I can remember. At the age of 7, my parents took me with them to hear Billy Graham in Portland, Oregon. I can still remember the smell of sawdust on the floor and sitting under a big tent to hear him in one of his first revivals. He said that each person had to make a decision whether to accept the gift of salvation or not. That we cannot get to heaven on our parents beliefs but have to make a personal decision about which way we will go. I felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to walk up that aisle and I did that, even through at that young age I did not fully understand what it would mean to me in my life as I grew up.
From that moment on, I knew that I would never be alone in my life. There have been many times when I needed God and knew that He was there for me.
After I was married, my husband was drafted into the Army. We had only been married five months.
I knew that I would have to live alone and that there was a possibility that my husband might not come back from service in the Army.
I was reading my Bible and discovered the verse in II Tim. 1:7. Every day when I drove to work from our little rental house out in the country, I would start to feel fearful and would recite that verse out loud in the car. It helped me so much. I have needed that verse at many other times in my life when I would feel panic or anxiety about something.
When our son was injured in a motorcycle accident as a teen and we sat in the waiting room of ICU, I remember how that verse came back to me and I would find peace in the promise of God.
Then, when I was going through hospitaliation myself with several surgeries, that verse would come to me. I know that God was with me in those times.
Recently, I have been going through some trials with my mother who is almost 96. She has been in a nursing home for almost two years and even though her mind is still quite good, she had begun to doubt her faith and whether God even hears her prayers anymore. She feels abandoned by God because she wanted to go "home" to be with the Lord but for some reason, He has not taken her from her helpless body.
I just realized that perhaps I was asked to write this because I needed to be reminded of the verse that has helped me for over 40 years. I am going to share that verse with my mother today. I pray that it will help her.
There is another verse that has helped me so much in my life. There have been a lot of heartbreaks in my family, as there is in most families. As I paged through my favorite Bible today, I found a notation by this verse and will share it with my mother, too.
This is the part that really spoke to me today.
Psalm 34:18-19, "The Lord is close to those whose hearts are breaking: The good man (or woman) does not escape all troubles - but the Lord helps him in each and every one."
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
MIM'S STORY - Part 3
I chose to be real.......
Most of the time all I could say was "Oh God, Oh God," or "I'm scared.....
I found safe friends.
They offered their hearts and home whenever I needed them.
They offered to listen and not judge me no matter what I said.
They offered me tears instead of answers.
The offered me time and love instead of suggestions to make me better.
My friends held onto truth for me when I couldn't.
Job said it this way: A despairing man should have the devotion of his friends, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty.
I needed to go to church, to be in a community, especially on the days I didn't feel like it.
I needed to serve.
I needed to read the Bible. All I could do at first was read a few verses over and over. I needed God's comfort and assurance he was with me. The Bible stirred up all kinds of feelings. I found parts of me that were mad at God. Those feelings had to be faced, by reading scripture they were revealed to me. I chose to be real with God. I found out he was willing to meet me where I was. He was faithful.
Finally, I needed to worship. My worship said, I acknowledge you are God...despite what I feel. My circumstances do not affect or define God's goodness.
I'll close with this story:
In the midst of my divorce, I attended a Women's conference in Chicago. I thought it would be fun to go with women from my church. It never occured to me I would see people that weren't current with all that had happened in my life. I was undone at the registration table when someone welcomed me saying, "Oh Mim, how's your baby? I heard you were pregnant."
I smiled and didn't say anything. Only to move onto someone else saying, "OH MIM, I AM SO SORRY. I heard you got divorced."
By the time I was seated, I was a basket case. It was as if I was reliving three years in ten minutes; each innocent but difficult question felt like a stab in my heart. I excused myself and went upstairs to my hotel room where I lay down, broken hearted.
I decided to borrow a car and leave. Then I heard God say, "Mim, that's not how you respond. That's not who you are. You don't run. Stay. I am here with you."
How could I refuse? I went back downstairs and sat like a robot, somehow making it through the first evening. I told the women what was happening, and they prayed for me and cried with me. The next morning I went into the conference with a little peace and some awareness of God.
After a few worship songs, I realized I was singing and worshiping. Suddenly my heart unlocked and I poured out my feelings of self-hatred, anger toward my ex-husband, and distrust of God. I was weak when I was done, but as soon as I finished pouring out my heart I felt God pour His presence into my empty heart with words of mercy.
My whole being was being filled with JOY! I felt JOY for the first time in 3 years. JOY in the midst of deep pain. Joy when bitterness and anger would have been normal.
I was undone, and you know what? It lasted. It wasn't just a weekend or conference experience. The joy carried me through my first broken wedding anniversary. The joy brought me hope and peace. Once again my Jesus was faithful to me. He gave me peace in the midst of deep turmoil, His presence instead of an emptiness.
God asks me to read His word to reveal himself, and He did. God askes me to stay in commnunity and be real and he was able to bring life to me because I was available. God asked me to worship and in one worship session, I experienced more healing than in years of counseling! God asked me to be real, to chose to follow Him. He asks for a good reason.
It is true that what God asks us to do brings us life. God redeems the broken. I am not telling you that I'm perfect or even healed...but I can pass the good news that God is faithful. God keeps His word. He wants and desires a relationship. He was faithful to me. He replaced pain and sorrow with JOY. He planted a deep desire in me to live and live in truth.
My journey into healing followed my conscious decision to say I'm willing to live in pain. I had to decide to do the opposite of what I felt like doing.
Psalm 18 was written by David when his friend Saul was trying to kill him.
6-In my distress I called to the LORD. I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice, my cry came before him, into his ears.
16-He reached down from on high and took hold of me, he drew me out of deep waters.
17-He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.
19-He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.
Pain demands a response. This is how God responds when we call on Him.
How will you respond? Today choose to move closer to God, to experience His faithfulness, mercy and truth.
Most of the time all I could say was "Oh God, Oh God," or "I'm scared.....
I found safe friends.
They offered their hearts and home whenever I needed them.
They offered to listen and not judge me no matter what I said.
They offered me tears instead of answers.
The offered me time and love instead of suggestions to make me better.
My friends held onto truth for me when I couldn't.
Job said it this way: A despairing man should have the devotion of his friends, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty.
I needed to go to church, to be in a community, especially on the days I didn't feel like it.
I needed to serve.
I needed to read the Bible. All I could do at first was read a few verses over and over. I needed God's comfort and assurance he was with me. The Bible stirred up all kinds of feelings. I found parts of me that were mad at God. Those feelings had to be faced, by reading scripture they were revealed to me. I chose to be real with God. I found out he was willing to meet me where I was. He was faithful.
Finally, I needed to worship. My worship said, I acknowledge you are God...despite what I feel. My circumstances do not affect or define God's goodness.
I'll close with this story:
In the midst of my divorce, I attended a Women's conference in Chicago. I thought it would be fun to go with women from my church. It never occured to me I would see people that weren't current with all that had happened in my life. I was undone at the registration table when someone welcomed me saying, "Oh Mim, how's your baby? I heard you were pregnant."
I smiled and didn't say anything. Only to move onto someone else saying, "OH MIM, I AM SO SORRY. I heard you got divorced."
By the time I was seated, I was a basket case. It was as if I was reliving three years in ten minutes; each innocent but difficult question felt like a stab in my heart. I excused myself and went upstairs to my hotel room where I lay down, broken hearted.
I decided to borrow a car and leave. Then I heard God say, "Mim, that's not how you respond. That's not who you are. You don't run. Stay. I am here with you."
How could I refuse? I went back downstairs and sat like a robot, somehow making it through the first evening. I told the women what was happening, and they prayed for me and cried with me. The next morning I went into the conference with a little peace and some awareness of God.
After a few worship songs, I realized I was singing and worshiping. Suddenly my heart unlocked and I poured out my feelings of self-hatred, anger toward my ex-husband, and distrust of God. I was weak when I was done, but as soon as I finished pouring out my heart I felt God pour His presence into my empty heart with words of mercy.
My whole being was being filled with JOY! I felt JOY for the first time in 3 years. JOY in the midst of deep pain. Joy when bitterness and anger would have been normal.
I was undone, and you know what? It lasted. It wasn't just a weekend or conference experience. The joy carried me through my first broken wedding anniversary. The joy brought me hope and peace. Once again my Jesus was faithful to me. He gave me peace in the midst of deep turmoil, His presence instead of an emptiness.
God asks me to read His word to reveal himself, and He did. God askes me to stay in commnunity and be real and he was able to bring life to me because I was available. God asked me to worship and in one worship session, I experienced more healing than in years of counseling! God asked me to be real, to chose to follow Him. He asks for a good reason.
It is true that what God asks us to do brings us life. God redeems the broken. I am not telling you that I'm perfect or even healed...but I can pass the good news that God is faithful. God keeps His word. He wants and desires a relationship. He was faithful to me. He replaced pain and sorrow with JOY. He planted a deep desire in me to live and live in truth.
My journey into healing followed my conscious decision to say I'm willing to live in pain. I had to decide to do the opposite of what I felt like doing.
Psalm 18 was written by David when his friend Saul was trying to kill him.
6-In my distress I called to the LORD. I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice, my cry came before him, into his ears.
16-He reached down from on high and took hold of me, he drew me out of deep waters.
17-He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me.
19-He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.
Pain demands a response. This is how God responds when we call on Him.
How will you respond? Today choose to move closer to God, to experience His faithfulness, mercy and truth.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
MIM'S STORY - Part 2
During this time I met a family who accepted me and welcomed me into their hearts and home. I learned about relationships, honesty, trust, vulnerability, safety and unconditional love.
I saw how they responded to pain, I began to understand what it meant to belong to a family, and I stopped reading the romance novels, I did not need them anymore.
I became acquainted with the Vineyard Church. Once again, God revealed himself to me in a greater way. I was ready to experience God's presence. I was ready to experience an intimate relationship with Jesus. I experienced joy and peace and rest in my life. I was building deep and lasting friendships. Each step along the way God revealed more and more of Himself to me. The more I grasped truth, the more I experienced Jesus, I was learning to understand acceptance.
A few years later I was invited to move to Iowa City to help with this church. I quickly became part of the community. I felt healthy and whole. Life was different than I had hoped for. I still longed to be married, but it no longer was my focus. I was happy. I had good friends, an adorable home, and I was learning to love Jesus and others. I lacked nothing. It was at this point that my 'prince' came into my life.
He was handsome, I was beautiful. He had a red convertible and I had perfect hair. He was a Christian. I decided on our 2nd date that I would marry this man, and 9 months later we were married. I was loved and chosen. I had my own family.
On our honeymoon he changed. He changed so much I had to wonder, who is this man? Where did the soft-spoken, kind, Godly man that I used to know go?
I wondered: did I marry my Father? But we had both been single for a long time, and I figured we might need time to adjust. I thought our daily fights might be normal. Within three months of our wedding I had three dreams that my husband left me. These dreams were frightening. I shared them with my husband and he reassured me he would never leave me.
But, what never left was the anger. No conversation or activity was immune to an explosion. I prayed, talked with friends, cried, and tried to get my husband to go to counseling with me. He refused. His anger kept getting worse and worse. Walls, cars, dishes and doors, nothing was safe when he was angry. But, still I hoped. I knew God was good. I knew God was powerful. I remembered the stars. I kept hoping for change.
I became pregnant. Three months later I miscarried. I was in such pain, I thought I would die. I became very depressed. I lost hope. My dream of having children seemed impossible. I could barely hold on. I could only pray,"Oh God, Oh God". My friends offered me comfort and faith. I felt God holding me and my tears.
My marriage did not improve. My husband, my prince, the man I had long dreamed of, had turned into a creature from a nightmare. Our home was a war zone, and I feared I was losing my mind. I remembered the dreams of my husband leaving and I wondered if God was graciously preparing my heart for the end of my marriage.
One day, after yet another explosion of anger, I couldn't stop shaking. I knew I needed to do something drastic. I was not safe. I asked him to move out of our home and he refused. He responded with denial and blame instead of repentance and reconcilliation. If he was staying, I had to leave, so I left within a half hour with two laundry baskets of my belongings and my dog. I was homeless and more alone than before.
Following counsel of my pastors and people I trusted, I knew staying with him would be a lie. My only option was to live in truth and acknowledge he had broken our wedding vows. I had to chose LIFE.
On Sept. 1, 2004, my marriage ended. My prince was no more. Actually, my prince never was. It's hard to put into words the emotions that coursed through my veins. Yet, in the midst of the sorrow and anger, I realized I had choices. I could blame God, or myself. I could withdraw from friends and from my church, I could give up and move away. But none of these seemed right. I did not want my life to be based on lies or shame. I had to decide which I would live in. Would I choose fantasy or would I face the truth?
Somewhere deep inside me a cry was recognized. LIVE! I didn't know if I would make it, I wondered if I would ever experience joy again. Once again, in God's mercy, He revealed himself to me, in many ways. One was through the Bible, the story of Jabez. Jabez's story is found in a couple of verses, hidden in the middle of a long geneology.
I Chronicles 4:9-10 states; Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez saying, "I gave birth to him in pain". Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, "Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain. And God granted him his request."
Jabez was given the family idenity of pain. Can you imagine his childhood? Can "Pain" come out and play? What about his marriage proposal? Will you marry me? Would you like to live with "pain" your whole life?
In the old testament, your name was your idenity, Yet Jabez knew God called out for a new idenity. He asked God to enlarge his territory, and scripture tells us God granted his request. I found hope in this. I thought, I do not want an idenity based on pain.
God hear my cry, hear my request. Broaden my territory, open my heart to more than what I have been given. Don't let me stay in the anger forever. Let me live life again.
I felt God say to me, "You've seen what happens when pain is not faced. You have a relationship with me, you have a family, a community...walk this journey with them. I will grant you your request."
Here's how God had me walk this out.....
(To be continued)
I saw how they responded to pain, I began to understand what it meant to belong to a family, and I stopped reading the romance novels, I did not need them anymore.
I became acquainted with the Vineyard Church. Once again, God revealed himself to me in a greater way. I was ready to experience God's presence. I was ready to experience an intimate relationship with Jesus. I experienced joy and peace and rest in my life. I was building deep and lasting friendships. Each step along the way God revealed more and more of Himself to me. The more I grasped truth, the more I experienced Jesus, I was learning to understand acceptance.
A few years later I was invited to move to Iowa City to help with this church. I quickly became part of the community. I felt healthy and whole. Life was different than I had hoped for. I still longed to be married, but it no longer was my focus. I was happy. I had good friends, an adorable home, and I was learning to love Jesus and others. I lacked nothing. It was at this point that my 'prince' came into my life.
He was handsome, I was beautiful. He had a red convertible and I had perfect hair. He was a Christian. I decided on our 2nd date that I would marry this man, and 9 months later we were married. I was loved and chosen. I had my own family.
On our honeymoon he changed. He changed so much I had to wonder, who is this man? Where did the soft-spoken, kind, Godly man that I used to know go?
I wondered: did I marry my Father? But we had both been single for a long time, and I figured we might need time to adjust. I thought our daily fights might be normal. Within three months of our wedding I had three dreams that my husband left me. These dreams were frightening. I shared them with my husband and he reassured me he would never leave me.
But, what never left was the anger. No conversation or activity was immune to an explosion. I prayed, talked with friends, cried, and tried to get my husband to go to counseling with me. He refused. His anger kept getting worse and worse. Walls, cars, dishes and doors, nothing was safe when he was angry. But, still I hoped. I knew God was good. I knew God was powerful. I remembered the stars. I kept hoping for change.
I became pregnant. Three months later I miscarried. I was in such pain, I thought I would die. I became very depressed. I lost hope. My dream of having children seemed impossible. I could barely hold on. I could only pray,"Oh God, Oh God". My friends offered me comfort and faith. I felt God holding me and my tears.
My marriage did not improve. My husband, my prince, the man I had long dreamed of, had turned into a creature from a nightmare. Our home was a war zone, and I feared I was losing my mind. I remembered the dreams of my husband leaving and I wondered if God was graciously preparing my heart for the end of my marriage.
One day, after yet another explosion of anger, I couldn't stop shaking. I knew I needed to do something drastic. I was not safe. I asked him to move out of our home and he refused. He responded with denial and blame instead of repentance and reconcilliation. If he was staying, I had to leave, so I left within a half hour with two laundry baskets of my belongings and my dog. I was homeless and more alone than before.
Following counsel of my pastors and people I trusted, I knew staying with him would be a lie. My only option was to live in truth and acknowledge he had broken our wedding vows. I had to chose LIFE.
On Sept. 1, 2004, my marriage ended. My prince was no more. Actually, my prince never was. It's hard to put into words the emotions that coursed through my veins. Yet, in the midst of the sorrow and anger, I realized I had choices. I could blame God, or myself. I could withdraw from friends and from my church, I could give up and move away. But none of these seemed right. I did not want my life to be based on lies or shame. I had to decide which I would live in. Would I choose fantasy or would I face the truth?
Somewhere deep inside me a cry was recognized. LIVE! I didn't know if I would make it, I wondered if I would ever experience joy again. Once again, in God's mercy, He revealed himself to me, in many ways. One was through the Bible, the story of Jabez. Jabez's story is found in a couple of verses, hidden in the middle of a long geneology.
I Chronicles 4:9-10 states; Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez saying, "I gave birth to him in pain". Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, "Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory! Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain. And God granted him his request."
Jabez was given the family idenity of pain. Can you imagine his childhood? Can "Pain" come out and play? What about his marriage proposal? Will you marry me? Would you like to live with "pain" your whole life?
In the old testament, your name was your idenity, Yet Jabez knew God called out for a new idenity. He asked God to enlarge his territory, and scripture tells us God granted his request. I found hope in this. I thought, I do not want an idenity based on pain.
God hear my cry, hear my request. Broaden my territory, open my heart to more than what I have been given. Don't let me stay in the anger forever. Let me live life again.
I felt God say to me, "You've seen what happens when pain is not faced. You have a relationship with me, you have a family, a community...walk this journey with them. I will grant you your request."
Here's how God had me walk this out.....
(To be continued)
Monday, July 18, 2011
MIM'S STORY - Part 1
This is my story: My knowedge of my biological mother is limited to a few facts.
*She was 16 years old when I was born
*5 feet 5 and a half inches tall
*120 lbs.
*A sophmore in High School
*Blonde hair and blue eyes, and a cheerleader
She gave me the gift of life, for which I am thankful. When I was born, I was put up for adoption. The family that adopted me had experienced a lot of pain; three miscarrages and the birth of a full-term stillborn baby boy. Instead of a family, they had an empty home and empty arms, which they tried to fill by adopting a baby boy and them by adopting me.
It seems that my new mother and I should have been a perfect answer for each others need. But when I was placed in her arms, I cried. Her embrace was unfamiliar and unwelcome. My new mother felt rejected, and I was learning to be alone within my new family.
We looked like this conservative Christian family, with a stay-at-home mom and a pastor dad, and two adopted kids. Later my parents were shocked when they had 2 more kids of their own. We looked like the model family in our station wagon, off to church every Sunday, but the truth was my childhood was filled with abuse, hidden behind a pulpit.
My father had been beaten and abused verbally. He in turn, beat and abused both my brother and me - the family scapegoats. I lived in constant terror, never knowing what might trigger a beating. My punishments were swift and severe. Both of my parents held me down, and my father beat me until his anger passed. I tried not to cry or make a sound. Yet my mind was full of unspoken screams for help.
The beatings seemed linked to my adoption. I heard my parents say, "We didn't have to adopt you. How could you be such a disloyal daughter?" My adoption was thrown back into my face, like toxic waste.
Between the adoption and the environment I lived in, I never felt loved or wanted or accepted. I longed to be held and appreciated. I wanted to belong and to feel safe. If I had played the word association game with you and you had said adoption, I would have instantly said "rejection" The word acceptance never would have crossed my mind.
In the book of Mark in the Bible, we learn that Jesus's family doesn't like what he is doing. He had been healing the sick, forgiving sins, and casting out demons. His family thinks he is crazy. On day Jesus's friends tell him his family has arrived, but Jesus replied, "Who are my mother and brother?" I used to think that was the strangest answer, until I realized Jesus was using this opportunity to give new meaning to the word 'family'.
Mark continues, "Looking at those sitting with him, Jesus said, here is my mother and brothers. Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother. The ones close to him became his family.
This was a radical idea in the first century because they would never redefine your family. Family was your idenity and that couldn't change. But with Jesus, God's family was no longer limited to the blood line of Abraham. Family was defined by knowing Him.
I believe God, in His mercy, offered my parents a chance to understand family in a new way. I believe the pain my father had experienced from his childhood could have been turned into an opportunity for God to bring healing. An opportunity for my dad to embrace truth, to embrace a new type of fatherhood, but he chose otherwise.
As a child, I looked up into the sky and saw the stars and I knew whoever had hung the stars in the sky was big and powerful. It made me feel safe to know that there was someone bigger than my father. God was revealing His heart to me.
I saw the beauty of the sky and believed the creator of such beauty must be good. I felt comforted in knowing someone good was holding up the stars.
No matter how rough my life was, the stars were there to instill hope and a quiet peace when I looked at them. No one in my world could take the stars away.
God was breathing His life in me and I didn't know it.
Ezekiel 16:4-8 says:
On the day you were born your cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water to make you clean, nor were you rubbed with salt or wrapped in cloths.
No one looked on you with pity or had compassion enough to do any of these things for you. Rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for on the day you were born you were despised. Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, Live!
God gave me the desire to go on. To live. The beatings lessened as I got bigger.
But the damage had been done. I had learned to shut off my emotions. I tuned out words and whole converstions and eventually entire decades of my life.
All I did was go to church and read Christian romance novels. I read about a Perfect Christian woman with perfect hair, who fainted from hunger because she gave her food to her dying mother. And the richest young man drove by in his red convertible and saw her faint on the sidewalk. Struck by her lovely raven black hair cascading around her like a halo, he carried her to his car and took her home. He was not a Christian, but on the last page, just three paragraphs from the end he became a Christian and then 2 paragraphs from the end he proposed and then in the last paragraph they kissed for the first time. Then they lived happily every after....
The romance novels I read had filled my heart and mind with lies about love. Over the years I consumed hundreds of them. I couldn't explain the longing in my heart, but the books filled a need. The problem was the 'fix' didn't last. As soon as a book was done, the 'fix' ended.
I wanted to be married, yet I had no idea what marriage meant.
I had been out of college for a couple of years when my 5th or 6th Prince Charming left me. As he was walking out the door, he turned to me and said, "You should get counseling!"
Counseling helped me see truth. I looked seriously at my life for the first time. Over the next few years I became undone and redone.
I started to understand the wrongs done to me. I started to understand my father and I started to see God. I was overcome with the knowledge that God understood where I had been and that He loved me. I recognized how He had been with me as I looked at the stars and that it was a miracle I was still alive. I knew He wanted me to live, to live abundantly. I began to do that.
To be continued
*She was 16 years old when I was born
*5 feet 5 and a half inches tall
*120 lbs.
*A sophmore in High School
*Blonde hair and blue eyes, and a cheerleader
She gave me the gift of life, for which I am thankful. When I was born, I was put up for adoption. The family that adopted me had experienced a lot of pain; three miscarrages and the birth of a full-term stillborn baby boy. Instead of a family, they had an empty home and empty arms, which they tried to fill by adopting a baby boy and them by adopting me.
It seems that my new mother and I should have been a perfect answer for each others need. But when I was placed in her arms, I cried. Her embrace was unfamiliar and unwelcome. My new mother felt rejected, and I was learning to be alone within my new family.
We looked like this conservative Christian family, with a stay-at-home mom and a pastor dad, and two adopted kids. Later my parents were shocked when they had 2 more kids of their own. We looked like the model family in our station wagon, off to church every Sunday, but the truth was my childhood was filled with abuse, hidden behind a pulpit.
My father had been beaten and abused verbally. He in turn, beat and abused both my brother and me - the family scapegoats. I lived in constant terror, never knowing what might trigger a beating. My punishments were swift and severe. Both of my parents held me down, and my father beat me until his anger passed. I tried not to cry or make a sound. Yet my mind was full of unspoken screams for help.
The beatings seemed linked to my adoption. I heard my parents say, "We didn't have to adopt you. How could you be such a disloyal daughter?" My adoption was thrown back into my face, like toxic waste.
Between the adoption and the environment I lived in, I never felt loved or wanted or accepted. I longed to be held and appreciated. I wanted to belong and to feel safe. If I had played the word association game with you and you had said adoption, I would have instantly said "rejection" The word acceptance never would have crossed my mind.
In the book of Mark in the Bible, we learn that Jesus's family doesn't like what he is doing. He had been healing the sick, forgiving sins, and casting out demons. His family thinks he is crazy. On day Jesus's friends tell him his family has arrived, but Jesus replied, "Who are my mother and brother?" I used to think that was the strangest answer, until I realized Jesus was using this opportunity to give new meaning to the word 'family'.
Mark continues, "Looking at those sitting with him, Jesus said, here is my mother and brothers. Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother. The ones close to him became his family.
This was a radical idea in the first century because they would never redefine your family. Family was your idenity and that couldn't change. But with Jesus, God's family was no longer limited to the blood line of Abraham. Family was defined by knowing Him.
I believe God, in His mercy, offered my parents a chance to understand family in a new way. I believe the pain my father had experienced from his childhood could have been turned into an opportunity for God to bring healing. An opportunity for my dad to embrace truth, to embrace a new type of fatherhood, but he chose otherwise.
As a child, I looked up into the sky and saw the stars and I knew whoever had hung the stars in the sky was big and powerful. It made me feel safe to know that there was someone bigger than my father. God was revealing His heart to me.
I saw the beauty of the sky and believed the creator of such beauty must be good. I felt comforted in knowing someone good was holding up the stars.
No matter how rough my life was, the stars were there to instill hope and a quiet peace when I looked at them. No one in my world could take the stars away.
God was breathing His life in me and I didn't know it.
Ezekiel 16:4-8 says:
On the day you were born your cord was not cut, nor were you washed with water to make you clean, nor were you rubbed with salt or wrapped in cloths.
No one looked on you with pity or had compassion enough to do any of these things for you. Rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for on the day you were born you were despised. Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, Live!
God gave me the desire to go on. To live. The beatings lessened as I got bigger.
But the damage had been done. I had learned to shut off my emotions. I tuned out words and whole converstions and eventually entire decades of my life.
All I did was go to church and read Christian romance novels. I read about a Perfect Christian woman with perfect hair, who fainted from hunger because she gave her food to her dying mother. And the richest young man drove by in his red convertible and saw her faint on the sidewalk. Struck by her lovely raven black hair cascading around her like a halo, he carried her to his car and took her home. He was not a Christian, but on the last page, just three paragraphs from the end he became a Christian and then 2 paragraphs from the end he proposed and then in the last paragraph they kissed for the first time. Then they lived happily every after....
The romance novels I read had filled my heart and mind with lies about love. Over the years I consumed hundreds of them. I couldn't explain the longing in my heart, but the books filled a need. The problem was the 'fix' didn't last. As soon as a book was done, the 'fix' ended.
I wanted to be married, yet I had no idea what marriage meant.
I had been out of college for a couple of years when my 5th or 6th Prince Charming left me. As he was walking out the door, he turned to me and said, "You should get counseling!"
Counseling helped me see truth. I looked seriously at my life for the first time. Over the next few years I became undone and redone.
I started to understand the wrongs done to me. I started to understand my father and I started to see God. I was overcome with the knowledge that God understood where I had been and that He loved me. I recognized how He had been with me as I looked at the stars and that it was a miracle I was still alive. I knew He wanted me to live, to live abundantly. I began to do that.
To be continued
Friday, April 1, 2011
JANE'S STORY Part 2
Psalm 120 says, "In my distress I cried unto thee O Lord and He heard Me." As we drove from the back roads onto the only highway back to the resort, I stretched my legs out to the front seat just as a police car drove by. It slowed down to drive along side of us, as I noticed it there I got a very heavy feeling in my heart. The police put on the siren and flashing lights and pulled us over.
We were not sure why, but we knew they knew we were not natives. Leon went up to the car knowing the poice are corrupt and expect a pay off, he shook the police officer's hand and gave him money, he then went around to the other side and did the same to the other officer. He reached into his pocket and offered more money. Leon came back to the van, I asked if we were OK, he asked for money and went back up to offer more. Leon then came back to the van and took his drivers license and registration papers and his license plate to the police. During this confortation the two officers in the police car were both holding up machine guns. Our driver was so frightened he had sweat soak right through his shirt, my daughter and I were becoming very alarmed.
Leon came back to the van, I thought it was all over, but then I realized Leon did not get his paperwork back from the police. The sirens and flashing lights started again and we were expected to follow. We were led down the highway then turned onto a side road. We drove for a distance down the road; there were no houses, no buildings, it was an abandoned road. The police vehicle stopped at the side of the road at the edge of a cliff. Leon took more money, reached under the seat and placed a hand gun on the seat and went up to bribe the officer again. The other officer got out of the car; he was swinging around a machine gun and started to circle our van. I thought to myself, what good is that little hand gun on the seat when they have machine guns. I was now very afraid for our lives. I had a cell phone on me, I tried calling back to the resort, no signal, I tried to call the representative who had made the contact for us, and he had said if we had a translation problem we should call him. Well, I certainly thought this was a translation problem. But still no signal.
Leon was now arguing with the officer, arms flying and I am thinking this does not look good! I am thinking, "please Leon, don't fight with him, it will make it worse." I looked at the gun on the seat; I thought I knew what I needed to do. I was afraid we would be shot, but then I thought what if they torture or rape my daughter before they shoot us? If they just executed us it would be fast but to watch them beat or rape my young daughter I could not handle that. I looked at the gun again and thought I needed to shoot my daughter and myself. But, what if there is only one bullet, what if I live and she doesn't, can I live with that? How could I shoot my own daughter, would it come to that? I took my daughter into my arms, I told her I loved her, I was proud of her, she had done a wonderful thing for these children, she was an amazing person, we had put a smile on the face of those children, and I believed she had made a difference in their lives, but I did not think we would make it back to Canada. I held her and tried not to cry, I tried to be strong because I was the Mom. I felt so guilty for getting her into this situation. With very little hope, I picked up the cell phone and called home to Canada, I just wanted to talk to my husband one more time, I was not going to tell him what was happening, but I just wanted to hear his voice. I looked out the side of the van and could not see to the bottom of the revine. I wondered if there were any other bodies down there. The call went through...it rang then went dead. I looked at my daughter and said I think this is a sign, I think we are going to make it. I began to pray, I prayed to God, I prayed not for myself but for my daughter, I had lived half my life she was just starting her adult life. I prayed to God and asked for my daughter's life, I prayed to God our Father, "Please God, Please!"
Psalm 102: 1-2 "Hear my prayer, O Lord and let my cry come unto thee. Hide not thy face from me in the day when I am in trouble, incline thine ear unto me in the day when I call, answer me speedily."
At the lowest point in my life, when I thought there was no hope, my prayer was answered. Father God came to us that day; He guided us out of that terrifying situation. I am forever grateful. My faith has been strengthening, and renewed. My prayer was answered. It was an overwhelming day, and unforgettable day, a day with a new beginning for me.
Psalm 6:9-10, the power of prayer has overcome enemies.
My prayer was answered, the police finally let us go, they drove away with almost all of our money, Leon had his paperwork back, the gun was put back under the seat and we drove home in silence holding each other's hand. My daugher was sick to her stomach and had diarrhea for two days, she was terrified and vowed never to go back to the Dominican, ever.
The power of prayer should not be underestimated. A renewal of faith is not just an increase of faith and strength but something we experience throughout our lives. It is an ongoing development, an awakening in the heart. It was unfortunate I had to experience such a near death, terrifying situation to start my journey again. Yes, faith is a gift, one I was blessed to have. It's personal but let it's beauty shine through us, throughout life in everything we do.
The power of prayer and the gift of faith are amazing. Our faith is strengthened through prayer and reading God's word. Your faith is between you and God but it's what you do with it that counts. Meet each day with positivity and confidence; meet your life's challenges knowing the love of Father God. I see life a little different now, and I thank God. May God bless you and remember you have the power to make a difference. We may stumble but believe God is with us always, my friend.
Thank you for listening, May God shine on you, Jane xo
We were not sure why, but we knew they knew we were not natives. Leon went up to the car knowing the poice are corrupt and expect a pay off, he shook the police officer's hand and gave him money, he then went around to the other side and did the same to the other officer. He reached into his pocket and offered more money. Leon came back to the van, I asked if we were OK, he asked for money and went back up to offer more. Leon then came back to the van and took his drivers license and registration papers and his license plate to the police. During this confortation the two officers in the police car were both holding up machine guns. Our driver was so frightened he had sweat soak right through his shirt, my daughter and I were becoming very alarmed.
Leon came back to the van, I thought it was all over, but then I realized Leon did not get his paperwork back from the police. The sirens and flashing lights started again and we were expected to follow. We were led down the highway then turned onto a side road. We drove for a distance down the road; there were no houses, no buildings, it was an abandoned road. The police vehicle stopped at the side of the road at the edge of a cliff. Leon took more money, reached under the seat and placed a hand gun on the seat and went up to bribe the officer again. The other officer got out of the car; he was swinging around a machine gun and started to circle our van. I thought to myself, what good is that little hand gun on the seat when they have machine guns. I was now very afraid for our lives. I had a cell phone on me, I tried calling back to the resort, no signal, I tried to call the representative who had made the contact for us, and he had said if we had a translation problem we should call him. Well, I certainly thought this was a translation problem. But still no signal.
Leon was now arguing with the officer, arms flying and I am thinking this does not look good! I am thinking, "please Leon, don't fight with him, it will make it worse." I looked at the gun on the seat; I thought I knew what I needed to do. I was afraid we would be shot, but then I thought what if they torture or rape my daughter before they shoot us? If they just executed us it would be fast but to watch them beat or rape my young daughter I could not handle that. I looked at the gun again and thought I needed to shoot my daughter and myself. But, what if there is only one bullet, what if I live and she doesn't, can I live with that? How could I shoot my own daughter, would it come to that? I took my daughter into my arms, I told her I loved her, I was proud of her, she had done a wonderful thing for these children, she was an amazing person, we had put a smile on the face of those children, and I believed she had made a difference in their lives, but I did not think we would make it back to Canada. I held her and tried not to cry, I tried to be strong because I was the Mom. I felt so guilty for getting her into this situation. With very little hope, I picked up the cell phone and called home to Canada, I just wanted to talk to my husband one more time, I was not going to tell him what was happening, but I just wanted to hear his voice. I looked out the side of the van and could not see to the bottom of the revine. I wondered if there were any other bodies down there. The call went through...it rang then went dead. I looked at my daughter and said I think this is a sign, I think we are going to make it. I began to pray, I prayed to God, I prayed not for myself but for my daughter, I had lived half my life she was just starting her adult life. I prayed to God and asked for my daughter's life, I prayed to God our Father, "Please God, Please!"
Psalm 102: 1-2 "Hear my prayer, O Lord and let my cry come unto thee. Hide not thy face from me in the day when I am in trouble, incline thine ear unto me in the day when I call, answer me speedily."
At the lowest point in my life, when I thought there was no hope, my prayer was answered. Father God came to us that day; He guided us out of that terrifying situation. I am forever grateful. My faith has been strengthening, and renewed. My prayer was answered. It was an overwhelming day, and unforgettable day, a day with a new beginning for me.
Psalm 6:9-10, the power of prayer has overcome enemies.
My prayer was answered, the police finally let us go, they drove away with almost all of our money, Leon had his paperwork back, the gun was put back under the seat and we drove home in silence holding each other's hand. My daugher was sick to her stomach and had diarrhea for two days, she was terrified and vowed never to go back to the Dominican, ever.
The power of prayer should not be underestimated. A renewal of faith is not just an increase of faith and strength but something we experience throughout our lives. It is an ongoing development, an awakening in the heart. It was unfortunate I had to experience such a near death, terrifying situation to start my journey again. Yes, faith is a gift, one I was blessed to have. It's personal but let it's beauty shine through us, throughout life in everything we do.
The power of prayer and the gift of faith are amazing. Our faith is strengthened through prayer and reading God's word. Your faith is between you and God but it's what you do with it that counts. Meet each day with positivity and confidence; meet your life's challenges knowing the love of Father God. I see life a little different now, and I thank God. May God bless you and remember you have the power to make a difference. We may stumble but believe God is with us always, my friend.
Thank you for listening, May God shine on you, Jane xo
Thursday, March 31, 2011
JANE'S STORY - Part 1
This is a story of the renewal of Faith from the power of Prayer. My name is Jane; I grew up on a farm in a family of ten. I was raised in a Christian home, I have been a believer for a very long time, but this experience certainly impacted my life.
We have all stumbled at sometime in our lives, some of us more than others. We have had experiences where we said, "Why me Lord?" or "Why not me Lord?" Times when we thought God was not with us, when our faith was sitting on the fence and then at our lowest point the power of prayer confirms and renews our faith. I would like to share an incident in my life when through a desperate prayer my faith was strengthened and it quietly changed my life, my priorties and the realization that I was blessed in more ways than I could admitt. Outwardly I don't look differently, but inside I have a quiet comfort, strength, belief, optimism, contentment, love, calm, fulfulment, satisfaction and a stronger faith. It is said that faith is a gift. Hebrews 11:1,3 says "now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Through faith we understand."
The year my daughter graduated with her Honours BA I invited her on a holiday, the destination was her choice. She decided she would like to see the school she had raised money to build in a third world country. The school had been built in the remote mountain region in the Dominican Republic near the Haitian border. Our tickets were bought and we had filled four extra suitcases with school supplies and hygiene items as well as toys. We tried to coordinate transportation to the location before leaving Canada but continually hit roadblocks and decided we would deal with it upon arrival in the Dominican.
Once at our resort, we asked at the front desk if they could arrange to take us to the location of the school, but the answer was "No"! They stated they lived in this country and they would not go into the mountain region. We attended the information sessions at our resort, we asked our travel representative if he could help us to arrange transportation to the school. He told us his company would not permit him to arrange such a trip but before the session was over, he came to tell us he may have a contact to take us where we wanted to go.
So the contact was made, American dollars were paid in advance and we were set to leave the next morning at 8:00 A.M. in order to make it back before dark. It was to be a 3-3 1/2 hour drive to the area, Leon was to be our driver and interrupter. The resort took our pictures, pictures of our bags of supplies and teacher's supplies and pictures of the van and driver. Then we had to write down where we were going and at what time we would return. The manager made it known he was not happy we were going and he would not be responsible for us. We assured him we were going and this was our sole purpose for the trip.
So off we went, just outside of the resort I asked the driver if he could possibly get us to our destination in less than three hours. You can imagine the look on our faces when Leon looked at us and said, "I don't understand, I don't speak English!" Well, my daughter is an amazing girl, she had her Spanish dictionary with her and she was able to converse with our well paid driver.
The drive was horrendous, up and down, dust, extreme heat, no air conditioning, the smell of gas, roads which were more like trails, and we just kept climbing and climbing. I thought we would never get there, the heat and motion sickness got to me. I was sick to my stomach until there was nothing left but dry heaves and I was regretting having the big breakfast offered by the resort. Thank God I had a plastic bag with me, but that just added to the unplesant smell in the van.
Finally we arrived in the small village, but could not find the school. One person would tell us to go one way, the next would send us back the same way, then we were told to go futher up the hill, there didn't seem to be any street names. Finally we came across a school area, my daughter and I waited in the van while the driver went down to the building to bring someone up to talk to us. The village appeared deserted, then two little girls came along and my daugher decided to hop out and give them each a backpack of supplies. Within minutes we were swarmed by people who came out of nowhere. My daughter was pushed up against the van and teens were grabbing things out of the back of the van where I was standing with the hatch up. Leon was a big man and came to our rescue, he came back with a teacher who soon regained order and had everyone line up to receive a back pack. This deserted village suddenly had 60 or 70 kids and adults lined up down the hill towards the school. We soon realized we did not have enough backpacks to give one to each child, so we started opening them and giving 1 or 2 items to each child. We talked to the children and handed out many items, then showed the teacher the supplies we had for them. They were very excited; they said their Government would never give them this amount of supplies in five years. They taught their classes verbally, little or no writing materials were available. We were given a tour of the school buildings and the children sang songs and were delighted to see their pictures in the camera. The school rooms were very,very simple, but the kids were proud to show us around. They were thankful for the school supplies and toys we had brought, the paper and pen and pencils were the biggest hit. We brought class sets of notebooks for the teachers; one Teacher hugged her package in her arms and never set them down the whole time we were there. She was so excited to have workbooks for the children.
We stayed a couple of hours then needed to get back on the road in order to arrive back before dark. We were overwhelmed by our experience of the day and started our long drive back to the resort.
The next day we deceided we would like to go back to the school one more time. It took some arranging to find Leon again, and set up the journey back, but once the contact was made he replied, "Oh yes, I take the sonoritas, they pay me good money!"
So off we went for the second time, two days after our first visit. Thank God, I ate a light breakfast of toast and tea and was able to keep it down during the trip. The money was paid, Leon was happy and we were better at communicating with each other. The winding, rutted roads did not change be we arrived back at the school in record time, 3 hours, 10 minutes.
Once again the village looked empty, but once they saw these light skinned ladies, whose arms they loved to touch, we had a warm welcome. They remembered us, we had a following everywhere we went, even the Elders came to hug us and say "Good morning". We were shown in their homes, we saw the single pig that was the meat supply for the village, the chickens that run around everywhere, and the skinny dogs that were plentiful. The children had the day off from school for some reason. This worked to our advantage because we had the day to spend with them and get to know them. The kids were amazing, they sang songs for us, did cartwheels and danced, they were so excited to entertain us. We got some terrific pictures, faces I will never forget. As we prepared to leave we thought we had had an eye opening experience, an amazing day. Little did we know that our trip home would change our lives forever.
We have all stumbled at sometime in our lives, some of us more than others. We have had experiences where we said, "Why me Lord?" or "Why not me Lord?" Times when we thought God was not with us, when our faith was sitting on the fence and then at our lowest point the power of prayer confirms and renews our faith. I would like to share an incident in my life when through a desperate prayer my faith was strengthened and it quietly changed my life, my priorties and the realization that I was blessed in more ways than I could admitt. Outwardly I don't look differently, but inside I have a quiet comfort, strength, belief, optimism, contentment, love, calm, fulfulment, satisfaction and a stronger faith. It is said that faith is a gift. Hebrews 11:1,3 says "now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Through faith we understand."
The year my daughter graduated with her Honours BA I invited her on a holiday, the destination was her choice. She decided she would like to see the school she had raised money to build in a third world country. The school had been built in the remote mountain region in the Dominican Republic near the Haitian border. Our tickets were bought and we had filled four extra suitcases with school supplies and hygiene items as well as toys. We tried to coordinate transportation to the location before leaving Canada but continually hit roadblocks and decided we would deal with it upon arrival in the Dominican.
Once at our resort, we asked at the front desk if they could arrange to take us to the location of the school, but the answer was "No"! They stated they lived in this country and they would not go into the mountain region. We attended the information sessions at our resort, we asked our travel representative if he could help us to arrange transportation to the school. He told us his company would not permit him to arrange such a trip but before the session was over, he came to tell us he may have a contact to take us where we wanted to go.
So the contact was made, American dollars were paid in advance and we were set to leave the next morning at 8:00 A.M. in order to make it back before dark. It was to be a 3-3 1/2 hour drive to the area, Leon was to be our driver and interrupter. The resort took our pictures, pictures of our bags of supplies and teacher's supplies and pictures of the van and driver. Then we had to write down where we were going and at what time we would return. The manager made it known he was not happy we were going and he would not be responsible for us. We assured him we were going and this was our sole purpose for the trip.
So off we went, just outside of the resort I asked the driver if he could possibly get us to our destination in less than three hours. You can imagine the look on our faces when Leon looked at us and said, "I don't understand, I don't speak English!" Well, my daughter is an amazing girl, she had her Spanish dictionary with her and she was able to converse with our well paid driver.
The drive was horrendous, up and down, dust, extreme heat, no air conditioning, the smell of gas, roads which were more like trails, and we just kept climbing and climbing. I thought we would never get there, the heat and motion sickness got to me. I was sick to my stomach until there was nothing left but dry heaves and I was regretting having the big breakfast offered by the resort. Thank God I had a plastic bag with me, but that just added to the unplesant smell in the van.
Finally we arrived in the small village, but could not find the school. One person would tell us to go one way, the next would send us back the same way, then we were told to go futher up the hill, there didn't seem to be any street names. Finally we came across a school area, my daughter and I waited in the van while the driver went down to the building to bring someone up to talk to us. The village appeared deserted, then two little girls came along and my daugher decided to hop out and give them each a backpack of supplies. Within minutes we were swarmed by people who came out of nowhere. My daughter was pushed up against the van and teens were grabbing things out of the back of the van where I was standing with the hatch up. Leon was a big man and came to our rescue, he came back with a teacher who soon regained order and had everyone line up to receive a back pack. This deserted village suddenly had 60 or 70 kids and adults lined up down the hill towards the school. We soon realized we did not have enough backpacks to give one to each child, so we started opening them and giving 1 or 2 items to each child. We talked to the children and handed out many items, then showed the teacher the supplies we had for them. They were very excited; they said their Government would never give them this amount of supplies in five years. They taught their classes verbally, little or no writing materials were available. We were given a tour of the school buildings and the children sang songs and were delighted to see their pictures in the camera. The school rooms were very,very simple, but the kids were proud to show us around. They were thankful for the school supplies and toys we had brought, the paper and pen and pencils were the biggest hit. We brought class sets of notebooks for the teachers; one Teacher hugged her package in her arms and never set them down the whole time we were there. She was so excited to have workbooks for the children.
We stayed a couple of hours then needed to get back on the road in order to arrive back before dark. We were overwhelmed by our experience of the day and started our long drive back to the resort.
The next day we deceided we would like to go back to the school one more time. It took some arranging to find Leon again, and set up the journey back, but once the contact was made he replied, "Oh yes, I take the sonoritas, they pay me good money!"
So off we went for the second time, two days after our first visit. Thank God, I ate a light breakfast of toast and tea and was able to keep it down during the trip. The money was paid, Leon was happy and we were better at communicating with each other. The winding, rutted roads did not change be we arrived back at the school in record time, 3 hours, 10 minutes.
Once again the village looked empty, but once they saw these light skinned ladies, whose arms they loved to touch, we had a warm welcome. They remembered us, we had a following everywhere we went, even the Elders came to hug us and say "Good morning". We were shown in their homes, we saw the single pig that was the meat supply for the village, the chickens that run around everywhere, and the skinny dogs that were plentiful. The children had the day off from school for some reason. This worked to our advantage because we had the day to spend with them and get to know them. The kids were amazing, they sang songs for us, did cartwheels and danced, they were so excited to entertain us. We got some terrific pictures, faces I will never forget. As we prepared to leave we thought we had had an eye opening experience, an amazing day. Little did we know that our trip home would change our lives forever.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
CINDY'S STORY - Part 2
One day during this struggle I was walking through my bedroom seeing the attention it needed. It was a mess! I was so exhausted in every aspect of life that I could hardly take another step, yet I was late for an appointment. My heart felt like it would take a crane to lift and my steps were dragging like an anchor. I saw a paper sack full of things that needed to be put away. All I wanted to do was put them away...just ONE sackful, but I couldn't!
I stood there for a moment, so depressed that I didn't think I could go on. Something had to be done. I asked myself, "What are my options?" The first thing that came to mind was suicide, but that was not an option. Suicide seems such a selfish thing to do and it certainly did not fit into my legalistic thought processes. I did not desire that, I dismissed it immediately.
I saw that my choices were limited. The only way out hinged on my Spirituality: I had to choose to commit all the way, one way or another. The Spirit spoke to me suggesting that I could quit trying to do everything myself. I could give it to Jesus, but as much as I loved Him, that didn't fit into my many years of belief patterns. I didn't know how to do that even if I wanted to. My only other option was to just give up. I could just give up trying or caring about anything, Jesus included. I could go on being the 'good' person I was but I would be dead inside. Dead people don't hurt and no one would know.
There are two components to conversion: the intellectual and the emotional. Many times they happen together. Many times they do not. The intellectual comes when we accept the Bible as the true Word of God. The emotional conversion comes when we see Jesus face to face. When we see the truest love for what it is, from that point forward things are never the same. We cannot help but want to emulate that love to all those around us.
I saw Jesus that day, in my minds eye. As I stood there staring at that paper sack, I saw Him. He was as vivid in my mind as the pain was in my heart. I stood looking at him, wondering what to do, trying to decide. And as I stood face to face with my Lord and Savior, the only thing I could imagine to be more painful than what I had experienced for the last two months would be to look into His eyes and tell Him, "Your sacrifice....was not for me".
I could not bear the thought of the pain that would inflict on Him, and I melted, so completely. The Lord brought me to my lowest point physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually so that He could lift me up. For the first time ever, I surrendered fully.
I realized in that interaction that may have lasted all of 10 seconds (though it seemed like hours) that it isn't what "I" do. Life is not all about what I do! I can't DO it right. I tried for 42 years to DO IT RIGHT. At that moment in my life, I realized that what I did was not important, but rather what He does in me. It was that transformation that would bring the obedience I desired.
Since that day the peace has been indescribable. It has been sweet, indeed. My love for Him is insurmountable. Do I occasionally get discouraged? Sometimes I start to get that way...but then I look at Him again, face to face.
On November 20, 2004, my husband and I were re-baptized at Jere Patzer's evangelistic series in Forest Grove. That day I looked at a congregation of about 300 people and shared my testimony. Never before would I have considered doing such a thing. Never before would the words have even been intelligible, for I had a serious phobia of public speaking. On that Sabbath day my words were clear, my voice resonant, and my heart stable...and rejoicing. this has been my most convincing evidence of His conversion in my life.
Pastor Vio told me just to hold on to his arm and he would bring me up out of the water. He was a strong man and I felt secure. As I went below the surface I looked up and saw how the light above the water was out of focus and shining dimly. I remembered what he said and held fast to his arm. I let him do the work, a novel concept for me. Just as he promised, I only needed to hold on. He lifted me up and out of the watery grave and the ligth became clear, what a blesed symbolism God has given us.
It was just the right time. It was perfect. It was memorable.
I believe that before we are fully converted, we will need to meet Him face to face. It will be in a different way for each of us, a different time, a different process. Ultimately we need to draw close to Him, consciously look into His eyes and tell Him whether His sacrifice was for us. If you have never looked at Jesus, I highly recommend it.
How am I doing with my performance, my 'behavior'? Well, it has never been easier. I am far from perfect but when my strength comes from the transformation that His love has made in my heart, I can look at Him and smile. I can't WAIT to see Him...Face to Face! Can you?
Praise God.
I realized that in my conversion I would have to step out in faith and trust God to supply my needs. I quit my job rather abruptly just before my baptism as I saw what the stress was doing to my life. I am currently working in a much more sane place. Since then, I have only turned down more work that I can handle. I am still a nurse, amazingly enough, and now ministering to my family, which includes many 'adopted' young adults who come and go through our home. My adopted family includes people from all over the world as they come and go through Mission College of Evangelism in Gaston, Oregon. God has blessed me so much!
I stood there for a moment, so depressed that I didn't think I could go on. Something had to be done. I asked myself, "What are my options?" The first thing that came to mind was suicide, but that was not an option. Suicide seems such a selfish thing to do and it certainly did not fit into my legalistic thought processes. I did not desire that, I dismissed it immediately.
I saw that my choices were limited. The only way out hinged on my Spirituality: I had to choose to commit all the way, one way or another. The Spirit spoke to me suggesting that I could quit trying to do everything myself. I could give it to Jesus, but as much as I loved Him, that didn't fit into my many years of belief patterns. I didn't know how to do that even if I wanted to. My only other option was to just give up. I could just give up trying or caring about anything, Jesus included. I could go on being the 'good' person I was but I would be dead inside. Dead people don't hurt and no one would know.
There are two components to conversion: the intellectual and the emotional. Many times they happen together. Many times they do not. The intellectual comes when we accept the Bible as the true Word of God. The emotional conversion comes when we see Jesus face to face. When we see the truest love for what it is, from that point forward things are never the same. We cannot help but want to emulate that love to all those around us.
I saw Jesus that day, in my minds eye. As I stood there staring at that paper sack, I saw Him. He was as vivid in my mind as the pain was in my heart. I stood looking at him, wondering what to do, trying to decide. And as I stood face to face with my Lord and Savior, the only thing I could imagine to be more painful than what I had experienced for the last two months would be to look into His eyes and tell Him, "Your sacrifice....was not for me".
I could not bear the thought of the pain that would inflict on Him, and I melted, so completely. The Lord brought me to my lowest point physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually so that He could lift me up. For the first time ever, I surrendered fully.
I realized in that interaction that may have lasted all of 10 seconds (though it seemed like hours) that it isn't what "I" do. Life is not all about what I do! I can't DO it right. I tried for 42 years to DO IT RIGHT. At that moment in my life, I realized that what I did was not important, but rather what He does in me. It was that transformation that would bring the obedience I desired.
Since that day the peace has been indescribable. It has been sweet, indeed. My love for Him is insurmountable. Do I occasionally get discouraged? Sometimes I start to get that way...but then I look at Him again, face to face.
On November 20, 2004, my husband and I were re-baptized at Jere Patzer's evangelistic series in Forest Grove. That day I looked at a congregation of about 300 people and shared my testimony. Never before would I have considered doing such a thing. Never before would the words have even been intelligible, for I had a serious phobia of public speaking. On that Sabbath day my words were clear, my voice resonant, and my heart stable...and rejoicing. this has been my most convincing evidence of His conversion in my life.
Pastor Vio told me just to hold on to his arm and he would bring me up out of the water. He was a strong man and I felt secure. As I went below the surface I looked up and saw how the light above the water was out of focus and shining dimly. I remembered what he said and held fast to his arm. I let him do the work, a novel concept for me. Just as he promised, I only needed to hold on. He lifted me up and out of the watery grave and the ligth became clear, what a blesed symbolism God has given us.
It was just the right time. It was perfect. It was memorable.
I believe that before we are fully converted, we will need to meet Him face to face. It will be in a different way for each of us, a different time, a different process. Ultimately we need to draw close to Him, consciously look into His eyes and tell Him whether His sacrifice was for us. If you have never looked at Jesus, I highly recommend it.
How am I doing with my performance, my 'behavior'? Well, it has never been easier. I am far from perfect but when my strength comes from the transformation that His love has made in my heart, I can look at Him and smile. I can't WAIT to see Him...Face to Face! Can you?
Praise God.
I realized that in my conversion I would have to step out in faith and trust God to supply my needs. I quit my job rather abruptly just before my baptism as I saw what the stress was doing to my life. I am currently working in a much more sane place. Since then, I have only turned down more work that I can handle. I am still a nurse, amazingly enough, and now ministering to my family, which includes many 'adopted' young adults who come and go through our home. My adopted family includes people from all over the world as they come and go through Mission College of Evangelism in Gaston, Oregon. God has blessed me so much!
Saturday, September 4, 2010
CINDY'S STORY - Part 1
It had to be perfect!
I was raised in a nominal Seventh-Day Adventist family. There was an interesting mix of spirituality in our home. We were actually quite liberal....and legalistic. Our obedience was fostered from a sense of right-ness.
I was baptized when I was eleven or twelve, but it was not my idea. Someone mentioned that "it was about time." I believed in God and wanted to serve Him, I knew the doctrines.....so I was baptized. But, there was no longing, no desire.
I continued to grow up with my legalistic style and expected others to just see the black and white of things as I did, to 'buck up" and perform. After all, if we didn't....we would be lost. How important obedience is, but it comes from such a different angle for me today! I have a desire to be saved rather than just "not be lost".
I married a Seventh-day Adventist friend of many years. In fact, I did not know life without him. We met at church before I was old enough to remember such a meeting. We attended school together throughout our elementary and high school years. We married when he was 20 and I was 17. Many people said we would never make it, we were too young. The one thing we both knew was that love is a decision and divorce was not an option for either of us. This principle was clearly established by the Holy Spirit in each of our minds prior to marrying. We just celebrated our 25th anniversary. The credit for our success is the Holy Spirit's.
This is my personal testimony of conversion and therefore is very focused on my own internal struggles but I must express my appreciation to my family. All of my struggles were just that the last two years....internal. Though I did not share what was really going on in my heart until after my conversion experience, they were very loving and supportive of my needs. I appreciate and feel very unworthy of the unconditional love bestowed upon me by my family when I was choosing to drive rather than lead in every area of life. I have no doubts that there will be, at the very least, a shadow of my star in each of their crowns.
My husband Dan was always one who could see his spirituality as 'just a part of life.' He was not perfect. He and God knew this and it was life, so, carry on. But this thought process didn't fit into the idealizations, expectations and forms of perfection in my mind. The dilemma I dealt with was that I couldn't even come close to living up to the values and principles of legalism that I had been taught so well. Therefore, I tried harder.
And...we had children. At some point in the rearing process I think it was when our firstborn was about 18 months, I had a grand revelation that moved me one step towards my conversion. Even though I had been able to extract certain behaviors (whether she liked it or not) from this blessed "charge" that God had given me...I was unable to make her think the way I wanted. This was distressing. From the time I was first exposed to misbehaving little ones, I determined I WOULD raise perfect children. This criteria fit into the role of my Christian expectations because it was right, just as any good Christian knows.
Heretofore, I had been living with "all the answers" but suddenly this little 20 pound bundle of cuddles (and struggles) pulled the rug out from under my feet. THIS revelation was a serious blow, indeed.
I then attended Nursing School where I learned that there is so much information in this world that I did not know. I actually did not have all the answers. The more I learned, the more I knew I didn't know. This humbled me, bringing me another step toward conversion.
When I started a nursing job, we were required to attend Conflict Resolution classes. These were extensive and very valuable! Every person on earth should be required to attend them. What a blessing! It was here that I learned how people's different experiences affect each person's behavior. I learned that if someone didn't behave just as I thought they should...they might have had a different upbringing, different exposures, and perhaps it was not their lack of integrity that caused their behavior, but rather their lack of knowing the truth. I was again humbled, realizing that I was not so intelligent at evaluating other people's value systems...like I once thought. At that point, I learned to love and pity those souls whose behavior betrayed their lack of guidance, love and support in growing up. And I learned to be thankful for the upbringing that I had. I praised God for giving me the brotherly love that moved me one more step closer to Him.
As the years passed, we were active in church. In 2000, Black Hills Mission College of Evangelism presented an Evangelistic Series in Forest Grove, OR. Our church was to sponsor this event. We were among the usual 12 families who ALWAYS supported church events. It was the right thing to do! So, we attended the meetings to be supportive, but what we heard we had not heard before, same Bible, different stuff. The great controversy between Christ and the devil became so clear...so real. What struck me so significantly was the concept of seeing not only what God said in the Bible, but what He DIDN'T say. Suddenly the Bible came alive! Is was no longer superficial. I didn't study to prove the other guy wrong. I met the Lord on a more intellectual level than I had before. It was exciting and invigorating to explore. Though I had learned my memory verses in school and I knew the basis for Biblical doctrines, for the first time in my life, I consumed the Bible and I found myself falling in love with a 'Man' named Jesus. Now I longed for baptism, but it had to be at just the right time. It had to be perfect. It had to be memorable.
Time went on...life went on and in keeping with my upbringing, I saw more and more in the Bible of how I must behave, especially now that I loved Jesus. This presented a problem. Each time I made a mistake, I was even harder on myself. I began to work harder, to focus more...I could do it if I just put forth more effort! But what I saw in myself was so pathetic. I began struggling spiritually, trying to mix my love for Jesus into my old legalistic lifestyle. But as Satan exulted, he didn't leave me with just that. He threw every other aspect of life into the mix that he could.
Physical....
It started two years after the meetings. Not only did WE move, but we moved our house. God was leading and we could see that, but this move put us out of a place to live..literally, for four months. When we did move back into our home, there was one hassle after another and it took a total of two years of hard physical work (heavy work that women just aren't built for, and for 12-16 hours a day). Then there was always some urgent or essential thing that had to be done and I remember having about 5 literal days during those two years when I did not work each day to the point of exhaustion. Even Sabbaths were spent extending hospitality, which I derived pleasure from, but still taxed my physical resources. I felt like my life was set by everyone else's time frames. I couldn't do it anymore.
Mental....
I had changed jobs. I am an emergency room nurse. This new job was my first experience with serious trauma and critically ill cases coming at me from all directions. Our unit was short staffed for the high acuity patient population that we served and I ran 12 hours a day with minimal breaks. Many times I had more than one patient that needed treatment NOW and I had to choose which person was going to get help first...knowing the other might not survive until I got back to them. The stress was beyond comprehension for me, day after day for almost a year and it impacted every aspect of my life.
Emotional...
While trying to keep all issues of my life under control, I found another aspect very out of control. A misunderstanding occurred with a brother in the faith. I held him very dear to my heart and it was a painful experience to add to my agenda. In fact, my mental capacity was quite affected by my emotional response. Yet again, I had to keep moving. I had to go to work that day. I kept thinking I should call in sick, but I couldn't. Good Christians, who did things right, do NOT call in sick when they aren't physically ill. I went to work and asked the charge nurse to put me in the less acute area of the Emergency Room, somewhere that I couldn't "kill" somone. My emotional state was that of deep distress and I feared making a big mistake.
Within fifteen minutes of my shift I had over-medicated a sweet elderly lady, I gave the usual dose, but only 1/2 that dose was ordered. The lady ended up in ICU with tubes going everywhere, including directly into her chest. I do not know if she survived. She needed only to survive the eight hours until the drug wore off and then she would be fine. This was the only time in my life that I chose to avoid knowing the truth. I chose to remain in denial. To this day I do not know...but I have faith.
Spiritual...
I was unable to emothionally handle all of this, which tells me where I was spiritually. In my attempt to meld this new love for Jesus into my old thought processes, I was making my own life miserable. The last two years had been difficult indeed. That last two months had been excruciating. I was not dealing well with the physical and mental exhaustion, but more than that, I couldn't deal with the emotional component...the emotional turmoil of the result of my own actions.
Continued in next post
I was raised in a nominal Seventh-Day Adventist family. There was an interesting mix of spirituality in our home. We were actually quite liberal....and legalistic. Our obedience was fostered from a sense of right-ness.
I was baptized when I was eleven or twelve, but it was not my idea. Someone mentioned that "it was about time." I believed in God and wanted to serve Him, I knew the doctrines.....so I was baptized. But, there was no longing, no desire.
I continued to grow up with my legalistic style and expected others to just see the black and white of things as I did, to 'buck up" and perform. After all, if we didn't....we would be lost. How important obedience is, but it comes from such a different angle for me today! I have a desire to be saved rather than just "not be lost".
I married a Seventh-day Adventist friend of many years. In fact, I did not know life without him. We met at church before I was old enough to remember such a meeting. We attended school together throughout our elementary and high school years. We married when he was 20 and I was 17. Many people said we would never make it, we were too young. The one thing we both knew was that love is a decision and divorce was not an option for either of us. This principle was clearly established by the Holy Spirit in each of our minds prior to marrying. We just celebrated our 25th anniversary. The credit for our success is the Holy Spirit's.
This is my personal testimony of conversion and therefore is very focused on my own internal struggles but I must express my appreciation to my family. All of my struggles were just that the last two years....internal. Though I did not share what was really going on in my heart until after my conversion experience, they were very loving and supportive of my needs. I appreciate and feel very unworthy of the unconditional love bestowed upon me by my family when I was choosing to drive rather than lead in every area of life. I have no doubts that there will be, at the very least, a shadow of my star in each of their crowns.
My husband Dan was always one who could see his spirituality as 'just a part of life.' He was not perfect. He and God knew this and it was life, so, carry on. But this thought process didn't fit into the idealizations, expectations and forms of perfection in my mind. The dilemma I dealt with was that I couldn't even come close to living up to the values and principles of legalism that I had been taught so well. Therefore, I tried harder.
And...we had children. At some point in the rearing process I think it was when our firstborn was about 18 months, I had a grand revelation that moved me one step towards my conversion. Even though I had been able to extract certain behaviors (whether she liked it or not) from this blessed "charge" that God had given me...I was unable to make her think the way I wanted. This was distressing. From the time I was first exposed to misbehaving little ones, I determined I WOULD raise perfect children. This criteria fit into the role of my Christian expectations because it was right, just as any good Christian knows.
Heretofore, I had been living with "all the answers" but suddenly this little 20 pound bundle of cuddles (and struggles) pulled the rug out from under my feet. THIS revelation was a serious blow, indeed.
I then attended Nursing School where I learned that there is so much information in this world that I did not know. I actually did not have all the answers. The more I learned, the more I knew I didn't know. This humbled me, bringing me another step toward conversion.
When I started a nursing job, we were required to attend Conflict Resolution classes. These were extensive and very valuable! Every person on earth should be required to attend them. What a blessing! It was here that I learned how people's different experiences affect each person's behavior. I learned that if someone didn't behave just as I thought they should...they might have had a different upbringing, different exposures, and perhaps it was not their lack of integrity that caused their behavior, but rather their lack of knowing the truth. I was again humbled, realizing that I was not so intelligent at evaluating other people's value systems...like I once thought. At that point, I learned to love and pity those souls whose behavior betrayed their lack of guidance, love and support in growing up. And I learned to be thankful for the upbringing that I had. I praised God for giving me the brotherly love that moved me one more step closer to Him.
As the years passed, we were active in church. In 2000, Black Hills Mission College of Evangelism presented an Evangelistic Series in Forest Grove, OR. Our church was to sponsor this event. We were among the usual 12 families who ALWAYS supported church events. It was the right thing to do! So, we attended the meetings to be supportive, but what we heard we had not heard before, same Bible, different stuff. The great controversy between Christ and the devil became so clear...so real. What struck me so significantly was the concept of seeing not only what God said in the Bible, but what He DIDN'T say. Suddenly the Bible came alive! Is was no longer superficial. I didn't study to prove the other guy wrong. I met the Lord on a more intellectual level than I had before. It was exciting and invigorating to explore. Though I had learned my memory verses in school and I knew the basis for Biblical doctrines, for the first time in my life, I consumed the Bible and I found myself falling in love with a 'Man' named Jesus. Now I longed for baptism, but it had to be at just the right time. It had to be perfect. It had to be memorable.
Time went on...life went on and in keeping with my upbringing, I saw more and more in the Bible of how I must behave, especially now that I loved Jesus. This presented a problem. Each time I made a mistake, I was even harder on myself. I began to work harder, to focus more...I could do it if I just put forth more effort! But what I saw in myself was so pathetic. I began struggling spiritually, trying to mix my love for Jesus into my old legalistic lifestyle. But as Satan exulted, he didn't leave me with just that. He threw every other aspect of life into the mix that he could.
Physical....
It started two years after the meetings. Not only did WE move, but we moved our house. God was leading and we could see that, but this move put us out of a place to live..literally, for four months. When we did move back into our home, there was one hassle after another and it took a total of two years of hard physical work (heavy work that women just aren't built for, and for 12-16 hours a day). Then there was always some urgent or essential thing that had to be done and I remember having about 5 literal days during those two years when I did not work each day to the point of exhaustion. Even Sabbaths were spent extending hospitality, which I derived pleasure from, but still taxed my physical resources. I felt like my life was set by everyone else's time frames. I couldn't do it anymore.
Mental....
I had changed jobs. I am an emergency room nurse. This new job was my first experience with serious trauma and critically ill cases coming at me from all directions. Our unit was short staffed for the high acuity patient population that we served and I ran 12 hours a day with minimal breaks. Many times I had more than one patient that needed treatment NOW and I had to choose which person was going to get help first...knowing the other might not survive until I got back to them. The stress was beyond comprehension for me, day after day for almost a year and it impacted every aspect of my life.
Emotional...
While trying to keep all issues of my life under control, I found another aspect very out of control. A misunderstanding occurred with a brother in the faith. I held him very dear to my heart and it was a painful experience to add to my agenda. In fact, my mental capacity was quite affected by my emotional response. Yet again, I had to keep moving. I had to go to work that day. I kept thinking I should call in sick, but I couldn't. Good Christians, who did things right, do NOT call in sick when they aren't physically ill. I went to work and asked the charge nurse to put me in the less acute area of the Emergency Room, somewhere that I couldn't "kill" somone. My emotional state was that of deep distress and I feared making a big mistake.
Within fifteen minutes of my shift I had over-medicated a sweet elderly lady, I gave the usual dose, but only 1/2 that dose was ordered. The lady ended up in ICU with tubes going everywhere, including directly into her chest. I do not know if she survived. She needed only to survive the eight hours until the drug wore off and then she would be fine. This was the only time in my life that I chose to avoid knowing the truth. I chose to remain in denial. To this day I do not know...but I have faith.
Spiritual...
I was unable to emothionally handle all of this, which tells me where I was spiritually. In my attempt to meld this new love for Jesus into my old thought processes, I was making my own life miserable. The last two years had been difficult indeed. That last two months had been excruciating. I was not dealing well with the physical and mental exhaustion, but more than that, I couldn't deal with the emotional component...the emotional turmoil of the result of my own actions.
Continued in next post
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
PAM'S STORY
"END OF CONSTRUCTION - THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE" Ruth Graham Bell died June 14, 2007, this was on her tombstone.
My testimony is one of a demolition and reconstruction story. Over the years since I have personally known Jesus as my Savior and have the Holy Spirit with me at all times, there has been one construction project after another.
The summer of 1976 I was introduced to the charismatic renewal in the Catholic Church. My sister and brother-in-law had just received the baptism in the Holy Spirit in southern California and moved back to Forest Grove. We then started a charismatic prayer meeting with ten other people. The first 15 years it was exciting to participate in the movement of the Spirit. Many healings were performed, spiritual as well as physical. There was a man who had his leg lengthened, a man who was cured of a brain tumor, my healings were of a more spiritual nature.
My most life changing healing took place at a retreat where I was exorcised of a demonic spirit of defiance. The removal of that spirit opened my self grafted and protected soul/spirit to many other healings. Fear of the dark was another healing that took place as a result of the brothers and sisters of the St. Anthony's prayer community praying with me. Measuring LOVE out in small quantities was healed in my spirit. I used to believe that you cannot 'really love' more than one person at a time. This misguided psychological behavior seeded itself in my soul in my youth when I was just 5 years old. Jesus took me back to that moment in time; let me re-live that experience with Him present which allowed me to learn to LOVE all people all the time. I became aware that there is no limit to the amount of love that one can give or receive.
I am a cradle Catholic born and raised in the church. Since 1976 I have come full circle from denial of all that is liturgical and regulated to being open to the catechism. I have not yet decided that I believe all that the catechism states but I am on a quest to study and decide. Everything I read I digest according to the Holy Spirit that abides within me. This interaction of the Holy Spirit is who I am and what I am. My construction period is not nearly finished; we, the Spirit and I, have a long way to go, but daily communication with Jesus is remodeling me into a child of God and sister to all.
My favorite spiritual author is Henri Nouwen. Henri, through his writing, leads me to change. Holy Scripture, as always provides a solid background for thoughts and actions of a child of God. Over the years when the Lord requires a change in me - the Lord sets the stage, provides the props, actors, and script to lead me to the next step toward Heaven on Earth. He beckons me to follow and then allows me to choose to follow His script or write my own play. In the past when I have chosen to write my own script or make changes to the play--I always end up back at the beginning. Try again is the message I hear. When I follow the Lord's script I take a step in the right direction and for my correct choice I receive: peace, love, joy, that sooths my savage soul. Dear friend, you would think by the age of 58 I would choose life each and every time - I don't - I find myself still choosing "the world, the flesh and or the devil".
As always my plan is to continue to quite myself, listen to the Holy Spirit and act on the promptings that say: Love God, Love your neighbor as yourself. When I make the wrong choice, as I often do, I repent and start over knowing that: "The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger (has a lot of patience) and rich in LOVE." Psalm 145:8
AMEN ALLELUIA
Love and Blessings to each of you
My testimony is one of a demolition and reconstruction story. Over the years since I have personally known Jesus as my Savior and have the Holy Spirit with me at all times, there has been one construction project after another.
The summer of 1976 I was introduced to the charismatic renewal in the Catholic Church. My sister and brother-in-law had just received the baptism in the Holy Spirit in southern California and moved back to Forest Grove. We then started a charismatic prayer meeting with ten other people. The first 15 years it was exciting to participate in the movement of the Spirit. Many healings were performed, spiritual as well as physical. There was a man who had his leg lengthened, a man who was cured of a brain tumor, my healings were of a more spiritual nature.
My most life changing healing took place at a retreat where I was exorcised of a demonic spirit of defiance. The removal of that spirit opened my self grafted and protected soul/spirit to many other healings. Fear of the dark was another healing that took place as a result of the brothers and sisters of the St. Anthony's prayer community praying with me. Measuring LOVE out in small quantities was healed in my spirit. I used to believe that you cannot 'really love' more than one person at a time. This misguided psychological behavior seeded itself in my soul in my youth when I was just 5 years old. Jesus took me back to that moment in time; let me re-live that experience with Him present which allowed me to learn to LOVE all people all the time. I became aware that there is no limit to the amount of love that one can give or receive.
I am a cradle Catholic born and raised in the church. Since 1976 I have come full circle from denial of all that is liturgical and regulated to being open to the catechism. I have not yet decided that I believe all that the catechism states but I am on a quest to study and decide. Everything I read I digest according to the Holy Spirit that abides within me. This interaction of the Holy Spirit is who I am and what I am. My construction period is not nearly finished; we, the Spirit and I, have a long way to go, but daily communication with Jesus is remodeling me into a child of God and sister to all.
My favorite spiritual author is Henri Nouwen. Henri, through his writing, leads me to change. Holy Scripture, as always provides a solid background for thoughts and actions of a child of God. Over the years when the Lord requires a change in me - the Lord sets the stage, provides the props, actors, and script to lead me to the next step toward Heaven on Earth. He beckons me to follow and then allows me to choose to follow His script or write my own play. In the past when I have chosen to write my own script or make changes to the play--I always end up back at the beginning. Try again is the message I hear. When I follow the Lord's script I take a step in the right direction and for my correct choice I receive: peace, love, joy, that sooths my savage soul. Dear friend, you would think by the age of 58 I would choose life each and every time - I don't - I find myself still choosing "the world, the flesh and or the devil".
As always my plan is to continue to quite myself, listen to the Holy Spirit and act on the promptings that say: Love God, Love your neighbor as yourself. When I make the wrong choice, as I often do, I repent and start over knowing that: "The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger (has a lot of patience) and rich in LOVE." Psalm 145:8
AMEN ALLELUIA
Love and Blessings to each of you
Monday, July 12, 2010
CAROL'S STORY
"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart" Jer 29:13
I can't really remember NOT being a Christian - raised in the Catholic community of St. Paul where everything seemed to center around the beautiful historic church that sits magestically in that small town as a centerpiece on a beautiful table. I was raised in a culture that believed in Jesus Christ and celebrated that daily with mass and confession, fear of mortal and veneal sins, beautiful Christmas Eve services and all this was woven into the fabric of daily life as people used the church and its dictates to structure their lives.
My mother, not being Catholic, but married to one, hiked us off to the Presbyterian Church in Woodburn eight miles away. She began going to that church as a small girl. It was 1 1/2 blocks from her home. She went faithfully even though her parents did not attend church. She still attended the same church at 91 years of age.
She was my Sunday School teacher. I remember as a young child, 11 or 12, vivid dreams about the world ending and me being left behing. It scared me and I knew I was not ready to go.
One day a young man and young lady knocked on our door and invited us to attend a Sunday School class they were starting at the public school. I know now that they were students at George Fox College who had been led to do this. It became an important event for me because it was at these very small meetings, just three to five of us Protestent children that I made my committment to Christ. (Never underestimate small works!) They can be very fruitful.
This was a turning point in my life, an official decision on my part to accept Jesus into my heart and follow Him.
I grew up with my belief system in place and when I attended church, many times that excitement of the presence of the Holy Spirit was there.
When I was a young adult, I never abandoned my faith, but what took over were the unmet personal needs of my life. The deficits of one's soul and I pretty much walked in my own ways - selffullfilling, sinful, and selfish and as a result caused a lot of pain for myself and others.
I was sitting in the debrie of that in 1972 when I read an article about an event that had just taken place in the colliseum in the spring of '72.
The "Institute of Basic Youth Conflicts" and my Spirit leaped within me and said "GO!!" It was coming back in the fall on Oct. 1972.
I went, and was overwhelmed with God and recommitted my life to Christ, this time out of despair with my own condition.
When was I born again? I say Oct. '72. What about before? I believed.
Then supernaturally I was invited to Banks Methodist Church under Chaplin and Willa Hayes and the Charismatic Renewal was sweeping through the nation.
I attended almost daily Bible studies, prayer meetings, awesome gatherings where the presence of God was so strong it could flatten you. My husband became a born again Spirit filled Christian. We ate, drank and lived in the presence of the Holy Spirit for about 10 years. It was a magical time. It was beyond description, wherever you went the Holy Spirit was around us.
Then it moved on, and the presence was no longer so external and we now were left with seeking Him on our own and bringing our own thoughts into captivity to the obedience of Christ.
It was like a marriage. The flush of romance when you can leap tall buildings with a single bound, and then you are left with your marriage partner and need to learn to put them first, yield, not go with your own emotions.
So now these many years after 1972 when I fully surrendered to Christ, this is my life. Daily I seek Him, I find Him when I seek Him with all my heart or I can walk in the flesh and reap that.
I believe for me, Revival is as close as yeilding. Sometimes it is helpful to go somewhere, but mostly not, because if my heart is not fully yielded, when I get there, I still find me.
Carol's life was not all roses, even after her surrender, she lost her husband to cancer, but then married her pastor who had lost his wife to an aneurysm the year before. She and her husband pastor a small church in their hometown.
I can't really remember NOT being a Christian - raised in the Catholic community of St. Paul where everything seemed to center around the beautiful historic church that sits magestically in that small town as a centerpiece on a beautiful table. I was raised in a culture that believed in Jesus Christ and celebrated that daily with mass and confession, fear of mortal and veneal sins, beautiful Christmas Eve services and all this was woven into the fabric of daily life as people used the church and its dictates to structure their lives.
My mother, not being Catholic, but married to one, hiked us off to the Presbyterian Church in Woodburn eight miles away. She began going to that church as a small girl. It was 1 1/2 blocks from her home. She went faithfully even though her parents did not attend church. She still attended the same church at 91 years of age.
She was my Sunday School teacher. I remember as a young child, 11 or 12, vivid dreams about the world ending and me being left behing. It scared me and I knew I was not ready to go.
One day a young man and young lady knocked on our door and invited us to attend a Sunday School class they were starting at the public school. I know now that they were students at George Fox College who had been led to do this. It became an important event for me because it was at these very small meetings, just three to five of us Protestent children that I made my committment to Christ. (Never underestimate small works!) They can be very fruitful.
This was a turning point in my life, an official decision on my part to accept Jesus into my heart and follow Him.
I grew up with my belief system in place and when I attended church, many times that excitement of the presence of the Holy Spirit was there.
When I was a young adult, I never abandoned my faith, but what took over were the unmet personal needs of my life. The deficits of one's soul and I pretty much walked in my own ways - selffullfilling, sinful, and selfish and as a result caused a lot of pain for myself and others.
I was sitting in the debrie of that in 1972 when I read an article about an event that had just taken place in the colliseum in the spring of '72.
The "Institute of Basic Youth Conflicts" and my Spirit leaped within me and said "GO!!" It was coming back in the fall on Oct. 1972.
I went, and was overwhelmed with God and recommitted my life to Christ, this time out of despair with my own condition.
When was I born again? I say Oct. '72. What about before? I believed.
Then supernaturally I was invited to Banks Methodist Church under Chaplin and Willa Hayes and the Charismatic Renewal was sweeping through the nation.
I attended almost daily Bible studies, prayer meetings, awesome gatherings where the presence of God was so strong it could flatten you. My husband became a born again Spirit filled Christian. We ate, drank and lived in the presence of the Holy Spirit for about 10 years. It was a magical time. It was beyond description, wherever you went the Holy Spirit was around us.
Then it moved on, and the presence was no longer so external and we now were left with seeking Him on our own and bringing our own thoughts into captivity to the obedience of Christ.
It was like a marriage. The flush of romance when you can leap tall buildings with a single bound, and then you are left with your marriage partner and need to learn to put them first, yield, not go with your own emotions.
So now these many years after 1972 when I fully surrendered to Christ, this is my life. Daily I seek Him, I find Him when I seek Him with all my heart or I can walk in the flesh and reap that.
I believe for me, Revival is as close as yeilding. Sometimes it is helpful to go somewhere, but mostly not, because if my heart is not fully yielded, when I get there, I still find me.
Carol's life was not all roses, even after her surrender, she lost her husband to cancer, but then married her pastor who had lost his wife to an aneurysm the year before. She and her husband pastor a small church in their hometown.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
HAZEL'S STORY - Part 3
The End Of The Journey - The Beginning Of New Life
Following the time when my husband left us, I fell into a terrible depression and really began to question everything. But to whom could I turn? If you dared speak anything negative you were considered to be Satan's seed and you would be shunned. With time the messages and revelations became more distorted, even including some Hindu influences. There were times I would desperately call out to the Lord for deliverance and understanding.....Now we were required to have all night chain praises. Laurie decided that from 11 pm to 6 am we would sing and praise. In fact he had overseers that would watch and make certain that we wouldn't fall asleep or stop. We became exhausted.
One day I was bitten by a scorpion at the end of my great toe. The pain was excruciating. What was the local remedy?? They took a needle to make the hole significantly larger, then packed it with sea salt. Just when I thought I could endure no more, they then lit the salt on fire and the pain that radiated up my leg was definitely a ten!!!! However, when the pain subsided, I had no more problem as I am certain any poison was cauterized. So what did I know about scorpion bites: I needed to trust their ancient methods; and by the grace of God it worked.
Now, at this time in Madras state there were some communistic uprisings and the state fell under Marshall control. For us this meant the political climate had changed towards foreigners and also that it was difficult to get food. I recall eating rice that was rancid because it had gotten wet. It smelled like pig manure when cooked. However, we were so hungry, that we would close our noses in order to swallow and get something into our stomach. I remember stripping leaves off trees and trying to cook them so the children would have some form of vitamins.
The German, Swiss and US governments had advised their citizens to return home. Now many of the residents were contacting relatives at home for return tickets and leaving. There was no choice now for Laurie but to allow the people to leave, it was beyond his control. Because Canadians were part of the Commonwealth, they were not asked to leave. Finally, in July 1977 the Indian government informed me that my eight your old American son would have to leave; thus was the hatred toward Americans at this time. It was then that I was allowed to contact my now ex-husband. He was faithful to his promise and did send return tickets.
Upon my arrival in Canada, I made a collect call to the children's daddy. He happened to be home that day sick and we were able to talk briefly. To my shock he arrived the very next morning with his new wife, even before I was awake. I was terrified, thinking that he would take the children away from me now. As we faced each other we began to cry and it became apparent to all present, that there was still love between us. As I had faithfully told the children over the years that they had a wonderful daddy that loved them there was no fear for them to see him, only joy. That day they spent with him. Later he requested that I return to the United States so that he could spend more time with his children, and I concurred.
The culture shock was horrendous. I knew nothing of 'Watergate', fashion, changes of the past six years. After almost eleven years away from the workforce, I would return to nursing to try to support myself and my children. The spiritual confusion was worst of all. I had lost my reality with truth. I was taught that all denominations were of the Babylon system and now to whom should I turn to for support and fellowship?? Oh yes, I continued to pray, but my theology was wrong and I had believed a deceiving spirit. What I actually needed was to be 're-programed', but at that time it did not seem available.
After months of sleepless nights, I finally made a decision to seek help from a minister. When I shared my story with him, I could see he was at a loss as to how to help or even pray for me. I left in despair. Emotionally, it was also difficult to remain in the same city as my former husband. I then moved five hundred miles away to pick up a relationship with a man I had known previously. Here I began to attend a small church where every Sunday I heard the message of the love of God and His mercy. This penetrated all my darkness and fear. How soothing it was to my wounded soul. For so long I had lived under fear, not love; bondage, not freedom; confusion, not truth. I had allowed someone else to tell me how to behave, what to believe rather than taking responsibility for my own spiritual growth. I now realized I needed deliverance from all the lies and thoughts that were still tormenting my mind. Would God forgive my blatant error, my willful sin? When I approached this minister, he simply told me to come after the service every Sunday evening and he would anoint me with oil and pray that my mind would be set free of all previous teachings. This is did. I can tell you that no longer do I, nor do I wish to recall the twisted doctrine of lies that I heard preached. For me, the struggle I had was accepting Gods' forgiveness. I was tormented with guilt realizing all the damage I had caused. My broken marriage, my children without their daddy in the home; I was so ashamed. Because of this shame I did not want to tell my story for years. I realize now that I should have had counseling, which may have saved much heartache in relationships, in matters of learning to trust again, or to accept authority. Decision making became extremely difficult for me as I would always second guess myself. The question always came up, "was I taking another wrong turn, was this decision going to impact someone else's life??"
Little by little the Holy Spirit would reveal these things as I struggled with them and helped to set me free and find balance again. More than ever before I saw the importance of 'rightly dividing the Word of Truth', and this became a mission for me as I studied the Bible. Anyone can read the Bible and make it say what they want to by taking scriptures out of context. I now ask the Holy Spirit to reveal the Word to me and let the Bible speak to me.
Some of the lessons I learned from all this:
1. Before you make major decisions, seek wise counsel from elders--and not among your peers or own fellowship group as they well only agree with your opinion.
2. Don't believe that anyone person or group holds all the truth or revealed word of God. This is arrogance. (read Ezk. 13-14) about prophets that prophesy out of their own imagination saying, "the Lord declares". Also in Rev. 22:18 about anyone that adds to or takes away from the word of God.
3. It is important to become mature in the use of Gods' word. Heb. 5:14 says, But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil. Remember Satan often appears as an angel of light and many times sits in the front pews.
4. Fear the Lord; meaning to respect Him and hate sin as He does. Do not fear man or be ensnared by his words. Christ has set us free to live and be led by the Spirit.
5. Have a heart quickly ready to repent when you know you have taken a wrong path or listened to a wrong spirit. Arrogance and pride God resists, but with those of humble hearts He will restore by His grace.
I thank God everyday for His forgiveness and His restoring grace in my life. I pray that this testimony will bear witness to the mercy of God to deliver when we are led astray. He doesn't abandon us when we turn to Him with a heart full of repentance. In these days when there are many voices screaming for our attention and saying that we have the true way, stay with the simple truth of Gods' word and let Him guide you into all truth.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
HAZEL'S STORY - Part 2
ARRIVING IN INDIA
Our anticipation was high arriving in India, we knew the trumpet call of Christ was near. As the plane descended, the smell of curry, sweat and humidity came up into my nostrils and I wondered, "do I have what it takes to endure???" The temporary discomforts of heat, bugs, strange foods, strange languages, strange customs, "would be endured with gladness and no murmuring", we were informed. The six yards of sari that I wore were soon drenched in sweat as our Ambassador car journeyed onward to our destination. Setting two deep in the car, being overcrowded was soon to be an everyday occurrence . As we arrived in a small village, Gandinager, we were now only fifty miles up from the tip of India. Truly, we were in a remote area of south India. Many of the Indians there had never seen white people before. Both of my children were blond and many of the natives just wanted to touch their skin or their hair. In their world only their gods were white skinned.
Daily, people arrived from many countries. There were some from Switzerland, Germany, Canada, USA as well as from different states in India.
We attended services twice daily on the house rooftops. The services went on for many hours as each message had to be translated into five different languages. Housing was provided there for six months while an 'ASHRAM' was being prepared for us in a desert area about fifteen miles from there. In each house several families were placed, trying to cope with cultural changes and with different personalities. Each day held new challenges. The constant battle with bed bugs, food too spicy for children and adults, and diarrhea wore on all of us. As time elapsed, P. Laurie kept us encouraged with his messages and new revelations. Finally, the time arrived to move to the desert and we were placed in small cement rooms with a large pundle in front, which was like a large cement patio with a palm thatched roof. This was a common area for all during the day. Foreigners were in one long block and the Indians were in another block. We met in the open aired tabernacle at sunrise and sunset. For meals we sat squat legged on the cement patio with our tin bowl and ate with our right hand as do the Indians. Breakfast consisted of a black bean called 'carnum' a food usually fed to goats, high in protein. The evening meal was usually red rice and a thick vegetable and dhal sauce. Saturday, the Sabbath, was a day of fasting for all, including the children. If they cried with hunger we just gave them another drink of water. We were required to read ten chapters of scripture daily. My son and daughter both learned to read in this manner. Following services in the morning, the women would rush to the large well to wash their clothes on the rocks and dry them in the breeze before the intense heat of the day. In the afternoons we would lay on our straw mats on the cement floor to rest until the heat or monsoon rains had passed. In the tropics darkness came at six pm. Before this, we all would have a simple shower by pouring water over ourselves from a bucket, and be prepared for service. Our evening meal consisted of a slice of bread and some sort of sauce; small pieces of meat in a sauce was only allowed once a week. Sleeping was simple, you just lay down with your clothes on, upon your straw mat side by side with probably six or seven persons in a small room. In monsoon season we had mosquito nets over us. This was our daily routine.
We saw many strange sights, there were oxen trampling out corn and women winnowing out the chaff for straw baskets. Oxen drew water from deep wells with a rubber bladder made from inner tubes. There were snake charmers that were called in to eradicate the cobras from their holes; then they were put into large gunny sacks and taken on local buses to the universities to be used for their venom. I once rode in a taxi with a dead woman sitting upright next to me, with her jaw securely tied with a red ribbon. Later as we stopped by a well, I was told to wash and prepare this woman for her burial, which was in the next few hours. This of course had to be done because of the intense heat. We saw small ribbons of lights in the night as oxen teams pulled wooden 'red river carts' on their way to the markets. We saw goat herders in the desert with only a lunge (loin cloth) and their staff. The goats would climb up the branches of the acacia tree for the green leaves. We witnessed low cast Indian women running after oxen to pick up the moist dung and put it in baskets on their heads. This would then be plastered on the sides of huts like hamburger patties to dry in the sun and be sold for fire fuel. These poor women in their tattered, faded saris had no blouses underneath, no shoes on their feet. In their ears were strange earrings made of small cubicle blocks, covered in gold. because they were so heavy, the skin of the ear lobe stretched like a stirrup down to their shoulders. Then there were the sacred cows that wandered through market places and pushed over vegetable stalls, no one seeming to mind. Thousands of Hindu gods could be seen, displayed on the outsides of their temples. All of this was India, yet, we were secluded in the ashram for the next five and a half years, waiting, waiting, waiting for the return of Christ. Here we had no electricity, no telephones, no newspapers, no radio or any other communication with the outside world.
After three years, suddenly my husband arrived. Before his arrival some of Laurie's spies had informed us that he was on his way to the ashram and we were told to quickly prepare. He, of course, was shocked to see how lean we were, and the heat rash all over the children appeared as though they had some terrible disease.
We were allowed to leave for a week with him to a resort area where he attempted to talk some sense into me. I was so filled with fear that I may lose my salvation if I left, yet, everything in me cried out to leave. I was also very aware that I was being followed by two of Laurie's men, as they anticipated that my husband may try to kidnap us. Finally, I asked my dear husband to forget about me and go on and make a new life without me. He saw only how brainwashed I was, and in frustration he decided to leave. Through tearful good-byes he promised to send me airline tickets whenever I came to my senses and wanted to return to the USA. We had no money of our own, and no way to leave otherwise.
(To Be Continued)
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
HAZEL'S STORY - Part 1
I was blessed to be raised in a Christian home with parents that loved me. At the age of five years, Jesus Christ was very real to me and I knew He would answer even my simplest prayers. In our small village in Canada, there were only three churches. Our church had just a few families, so the bond of love was tight and comforting as I learned the stories of Jesus. At the age of thirteen, my family attended revival meetings in another town and I heard for the first time about the baptism of the Holy Spirit and the gift of speaking in tongues. I couldn't wait to be prayed for. This infilling was probably one of the most significant events of my life. The joy and encouragement of this gift has sustained me in many dark hours, and continues today.
Following graduation from nursing school I made the decision to go to the USA where there was a group of believers functioning in the gifts of the Spirit, as in the early church, and I wanted to learn more. Here I studied God's word and had time to meditate. However, after one year this group began to disintegrate as the leader left. Many of the believers were wounded aand disorientated by this experience, and my faith grew cold as well. Quickly my mind turned to other things; I returned to nursing and looked for another group of believers to fellowship with, but found none. Within a short time I met a young man in college and married him.
Now, my husband, a non practicing Catholic, did attend church with me after moving to Colorado, spiritual things were not particularly high on his radar as he was interested in getting estabished in his career. For the next two years I again was being convicted by the Holy Spirit about my lukewarm condition and repented. By this time we had moved back to Canada where my husband accepted a veterinarian position in a small farming community.
Here, I became very isolated and lonely. To establish a practice required long hours of work and many days on call. Because I felt like a wife alone, I desperately wanted fellowship and friends. I also wanted to grow spiritually. In this small community I found a group of believers studying the bible in their homes and was invited to join. How excited I was. Soon I discovered they were talking about an end time prophet named Marion Branham. This man had held large tent meetings with healings in the USA. Apparently God had given him many revelations about what was to happen before the final rapture of the Bride of Christ. Though Branham was now deceased, they were devouring his books to learn abuot the end times and the book of revelations. All of this was very stimulating to someone so hungry to learn more about the things of God. It was all so new.
Little by little I began to withdraw from things of the 'world' and prepare myself for that day. I wore long dresses and long hair, and had all the outward signs of a believer; so I believed. It was then discovered in some of his writings that he foretold of a man that would succeed him, who would come from the east and gather the Bride of Christ together in a desert area. As people were reading these books all over the world it wasn't long before someone came from India declaring that he was this person.
He began to produce his own writings that dovetailed with Branham. Many people questioned this, however, the group that I was with were convinced that this was the fulfillment of prophecy. Paulaseer Laurie then made a trip to Canada and further convinced the believers that he indeed was called by God for this purpose. He was masterful at using the book of revelations to prove his point. So it happened that after he left, two Canadian men actually made a trip to India to see where they were to take their families and test if this really was true. Upon their return, the 'believers' began to sell their houses, farms and rid themselves of all their material possessions.
We had by this time returned to the United States for my husband's job, and though I was absent from the group, I was still in contact with them and now in a personal quandary. I had two beautiful children, how could I possibly go to India and leave my husband? Yet, I was convinced that this is what I needed to do if I truly loved Christ. I felt it was a test. Did I love earthly things more than I loved to be with Christ? Therefore, my prayer was, "God, if this is of you, then make a way. I need airfare, I need my husband to agree that I take the children, and to sign their passports." My husband had noticed the changes in me, but because I was still a good wife and mother, he chose to ignore these signs. He continued to be very busy with his practice. I continued to move forward to my goal and get rid of all my earthly things, taking many trips to the Goodwill. Finally my husband said, "I don't understand this pull that you have to go to India, but I can tell you that if you are there for 1 month you will get your fill of heat, snakes and bugs, and then maybe you will be able to come home and put this foolishness behind you. So I will sign for the children's passports."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, surely this could only be from God, right? So, with my two year old daughter and three year old son, we drove to Canada to join the others that were headed to India. My husband and I said our sad good-byes; very difficult, he believing that his wife would return soon and forget all this, and me believeing that it would all soon be over and I would be raptured and all earthly sorrow behind me. It was July 1971.
Following graduation from nursing school I made the decision to go to the USA where there was a group of believers functioning in the gifts of the Spirit, as in the early church, and I wanted to learn more. Here I studied God's word and had time to meditate. However, after one year this group began to disintegrate as the leader left. Many of the believers were wounded aand disorientated by this experience, and my faith grew cold as well. Quickly my mind turned to other things; I returned to nursing and looked for another group of believers to fellowship with, but found none. Within a short time I met a young man in college and married him.
Now, my husband, a non practicing Catholic, did attend church with me after moving to Colorado, spiritual things were not particularly high on his radar as he was interested in getting estabished in his career. For the next two years I again was being convicted by the Holy Spirit about my lukewarm condition and repented. By this time we had moved back to Canada where my husband accepted a veterinarian position in a small farming community.
Here, I became very isolated and lonely. To establish a practice required long hours of work and many days on call. Because I felt like a wife alone, I desperately wanted fellowship and friends. I also wanted to grow spiritually. In this small community I found a group of believers studying the bible in their homes and was invited to join. How excited I was. Soon I discovered they were talking about an end time prophet named Marion Branham. This man had held large tent meetings with healings in the USA. Apparently God had given him many revelations about what was to happen before the final rapture of the Bride of Christ. Though Branham was now deceased, they were devouring his books to learn abuot the end times and the book of revelations. All of this was very stimulating to someone so hungry to learn more about the things of God. It was all so new.
Little by little I began to withdraw from things of the 'world' and prepare myself for that day. I wore long dresses and long hair, and had all the outward signs of a believer; so I believed. It was then discovered in some of his writings that he foretold of a man that would succeed him, who would come from the east and gather the Bride of Christ together in a desert area. As people were reading these books all over the world it wasn't long before someone came from India declaring that he was this person.
He began to produce his own writings that dovetailed with Branham. Many people questioned this, however, the group that I was with were convinced that this was the fulfillment of prophecy. Paulaseer Laurie then made a trip to Canada and further convinced the believers that he indeed was called by God for this purpose. He was masterful at using the book of revelations to prove his point. So it happened that after he left, two Canadian men actually made a trip to India to see where they were to take their families and test if this really was true. Upon their return, the 'believers' began to sell their houses, farms and rid themselves of all their material possessions.
We had by this time returned to the United States for my husband's job, and though I was absent from the group, I was still in contact with them and now in a personal quandary. I had two beautiful children, how could I possibly go to India and leave my husband? Yet, I was convinced that this is what I needed to do if I truly loved Christ. I felt it was a test. Did I love earthly things more than I loved to be with Christ? Therefore, my prayer was, "God, if this is of you, then make a way. I need airfare, I need my husband to agree that I take the children, and to sign their passports." My husband had noticed the changes in me, but because I was still a good wife and mother, he chose to ignore these signs. He continued to be very busy with his practice. I continued to move forward to my goal and get rid of all my earthly things, taking many trips to the Goodwill. Finally my husband said, "I don't understand this pull that you have to go to India, but I can tell you that if you are there for 1 month you will get your fill of heat, snakes and bugs, and then maybe you will be able to come home and put this foolishness behind you. So I will sign for the children's passports."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, surely this could only be from God, right? So, with my two year old daughter and three year old son, we drove to Canada to join the others that were headed to India. My husband and I said our sad good-byes; very difficult, he believing that his wife would return soon and forget all this, and me believeing that it would all soon be over and I would be raptured and all earthly sorrow behind me. It was July 1971.
Friday, June 11, 2010
DIANE'S STORY
I was raised by intellectuals who professed that God is nothing more than a human manifestation of what we can't answer for ourselves, and they both totally believed in science. They truly were the Karl Sagen generation. However, we did go to church, the Methodist Church. At the age of seven we lived right next door to a Methodist Church. The parsonage was behind it. I absolutely loved visiting the pastors wife. She was probably the first real Christian in my life.
As I grew up and became more sophisticated, and being an individual, decided to take my own path to true enlightenment. This included Baba Remdos, Metaphysics, Interpersonal Dynamics, etc.
In my 40's I realized that everything I had based my decisions on was worthless. There was a song out by Simply Red called, "Holding Back the Years". One of the lyrics went like this, "holding back the tears, because nothing had a chance to be good, because nothing ever could". It expressed the condition of my life. I had failed on every level, as a mother, wife and I felt, as a person. I was a walking cadaver. I had been married twice. My first husband deserted us. Us being my blind, autistic, retarded daughter, who was now in a group home. The second was a physically abusive, very well decorated Vietnam Vetern. My life was a shambles. Where do you turn? I felt I had no choice. Either I could continue on the same path, and expect different results or I could change my path. I thought it smarter to change my course completely, so began my seeking God.
I took courses at Portland State, in Women's Spirituality, part of the women's studies program. Some of it was great, and some I could have lived without. Especially the part about Wicca's and Witches. Because I had felt that I had known God as a child, I decided the intellectual path was the wrong way for me to seek Him. So I regressed to that very special and spiritual place that I had known Him as a child. Growing up I spent many hours in the woods. Basically I'd only return home if I was hungry or tired. I experienced God in those places with the beauty of His creation all around me. I started to talk to Him, and I had a sense that He was always with me.
As an adult I had to return to that simple understanding and faith. So I started to seek a church, a body of believers, that could help me with my journey. I went to seven different churches in one year. I settled on Living Enrichment Center. They seemed to be loving, non-judgemental, and offered a positive message, rather than negative.
Little did I know, again this was still the wrong direction. In that same yar I met Reed, in the dust of a baseball diamond watching my then eight year old son play ball. Reed had a special quality about him. He also had some very strange relationships. There was obviously his son, (also on the baseball team) but the mother of the same son, and she with her new husband, and they all seemed to be friends.
Now, I had been through divorce , and it was anything but friendly. So at one of the games Reed and I ended up talking. We shared the devastation that divorce had caused in our lives. To make a long story short, one day he left tracts on my coffee table. I wish I still had them, so I could know exactly what it said, but it spoke to me about a lifetime of hurt, turned into good. It gave me the best promises I'd ever heard in my life. So on July 12th, 1989, all by myself, I gave my life to Christ. It was so personal I really didn't want to make it a public display, however, I don't judge the people who go up when there is an alter call. I absolutely love Billy Graham. I was there as a Chrristian in Portland, Oregon when he was at the Beavers stadium. It was awesome! So many souls saved.
Back to the saving of my soul, and to make another long story short, I married the man that led me to Christ. Reed also led me to what was the most perfect church for me as a new Christian to worship. The very first biblestudy I attended in that church was the study of the book of Acts.
My life has been anything but a walk in the park since becoming a Christ Believer. The one common thread however, is I'm no longer alone, and I'm learning to more and more just relax in His loving care. After being married for 10 years to Reed, one Saturday afternoon in April 1999, he collapsed with a brain aneurysm. He never recovered. There was too much brain damage. I was left with a huge financial mess, and three fully grown step children that felt they deserved more than what they were getting. I had to downsize big time, just to live.
I sold our big beautiful house in West Slope, and moved to the acreage we had planned on retiring to. It had a single wide trailer. God was still ever faithful. He had put circumstances together so that at this very time, I had Susannah living with me. She was a devote Christian young lady from China. She and I held each other up. She was my helpmate, friend and daughter.
Three weeks after burying my husband, I was in the hospital with thyroide cancer. Susannah made it possibnle for me to get through it. Not even my own children could have done what she did for me. We moved to the farm and she started school at Western Seminary, where she met her now husband. At her engagement party we had at the farm, she introduced me to one of her fellow classmates who had recently lost his wife. I told him if he needed someone to talk to, I was available, having lost my husband 10 months before. He ended up taking me up on my offer, and helped me gravel my road, and came out for dinner once in awhile.
Then in March, at a women's retreat, I was looking into the mirror of a brightly lit bathroom, and I noticed a little wrinkle in my breast. I felt it, and discovered in the deep tissue was a lump. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It turned out to be stage II, which meant I would need to have either a mastectomy or a lumpectomy, chemo and radiation. I had said I would never remarry when I lost Reed. It was just too hard to learn to live with another person, let alone the opposite sex. However, my heart was totally melted by this wonderful Godly man that Susannah had brought into my life. I felt I could trust him no matter what...but how could he commit to me now? I had cancer, and he had lost the love of his life to cancer already, why would he take the chance on another? But he did. We went through it together. My husband and his sons gave me my life back. I believe, had it not been for them, I never would have gone through this battle with cancer. So, for that first year as a new family, we took the time to grieve the loss of both Reed and Lydia.
I am now eight years out from cancer, and no sign of it returning. Chris who was 5 when he came into my life is now 13 years old and thriving. When we got married, English was Chris' second language, but since I was dyslexic, I understood his struggles. I spent many hours playing mama bear, with him on my lap reading together. He is now a 4. student.
My husband is a chaplain at St. Vincent Hospital, the very place we both lost our partners. God really can and does take very bleak situations and turn them into good, if we remain faithful to Him.
As I grew up and became more sophisticated, and being an individual, decided to take my own path to true enlightenment. This included Baba Remdos, Metaphysics, Interpersonal Dynamics, etc.
In my 40's I realized that everything I had based my decisions on was worthless. There was a song out by Simply Red called, "Holding Back the Years". One of the lyrics went like this, "holding back the tears, because nothing had a chance to be good, because nothing ever could". It expressed the condition of my life. I had failed on every level, as a mother, wife and I felt, as a person. I was a walking cadaver. I had been married twice. My first husband deserted us. Us being my blind, autistic, retarded daughter, who was now in a group home. The second was a physically abusive, very well decorated Vietnam Vetern. My life was a shambles. Where do you turn? I felt I had no choice. Either I could continue on the same path, and expect different results or I could change my path. I thought it smarter to change my course completely, so began my seeking God.
I took courses at Portland State, in Women's Spirituality, part of the women's studies program. Some of it was great, and some I could have lived without. Especially the part about Wicca's and Witches. Because I had felt that I had known God as a child, I decided the intellectual path was the wrong way for me to seek Him. So I regressed to that very special and spiritual place that I had known Him as a child. Growing up I spent many hours in the woods. Basically I'd only return home if I was hungry or tired. I experienced God in those places with the beauty of His creation all around me. I started to talk to Him, and I had a sense that He was always with me.
As an adult I had to return to that simple understanding and faith. So I started to seek a church, a body of believers, that could help me with my journey. I went to seven different churches in one year. I settled on Living Enrichment Center. They seemed to be loving, non-judgemental, and offered a positive message, rather than negative.
Little did I know, again this was still the wrong direction. In that same yar I met Reed, in the dust of a baseball diamond watching my then eight year old son play ball. Reed had a special quality about him. He also had some very strange relationships. There was obviously his son, (also on the baseball team) but the mother of the same son, and she with her new husband, and they all seemed to be friends.
Now, I had been through divorce , and it was anything but friendly. So at one of the games Reed and I ended up talking. We shared the devastation that divorce had caused in our lives. To make a long story short, one day he left tracts on my coffee table. I wish I still had them, so I could know exactly what it said, but it spoke to me about a lifetime of hurt, turned into good. It gave me the best promises I'd ever heard in my life. So on July 12th, 1989, all by myself, I gave my life to Christ. It was so personal I really didn't want to make it a public display, however, I don't judge the people who go up when there is an alter call. I absolutely love Billy Graham. I was there as a Chrristian in Portland, Oregon when he was at the Beavers stadium. It was awesome! So many souls saved.
Back to the saving of my soul, and to make another long story short, I married the man that led me to Christ. Reed also led me to what was the most perfect church for me as a new Christian to worship. The very first biblestudy I attended in that church was the study of the book of Acts.
My life has been anything but a walk in the park since becoming a Christ Believer. The one common thread however, is I'm no longer alone, and I'm learning to more and more just relax in His loving care. After being married for 10 years to Reed, one Saturday afternoon in April 1999, he collapsed with a brain aneurysm. He never recovered. There was too much brain damage. I was left with a huge financial mess, and three fully grown step children that felt they deserved more than what they were getting. I had to downsize big time, just to live.
I sold our big beautiful house in West Slope, and moved to the acreage we had planned on retiring to. It had a single wide trailer. God was still ever faithful. He had put circumstances together so that at this very time, I had Susannah living with me. She was a devote Christian young lady from China. She and I held each other up. She was my helpmate, friend and daughter.
Three weeks after burying my husband, I was in the hospital with thyroide cancer. Susannah made it possibnle for me to get through it. Not even my own children could have done what she did for me. We moved to the farm and she started school at Western Seminary, where she met her now husband. At her engagement party we had at the farm, she introduced me to one of her fellow classmates who had recently lost his wife. I told him if he needed someone to talk to, I was available, having lost my husband 10 months before. He ended up taking me up on my offer, and helped me gravel my road, and came out for dinner once in awhile.
Then in March, at a women's retreat, I was looking into the mirror of a brightly lit bathroom, and I noticed a little wrinkle in my breast. I felt it, and discovered in the deep tissue was a lump. I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It turned out to be stage II, which meant I would need to have either a mastectomy or a lumpectomy, chemo and radiation. I had said I would never remarry when I lost Reed. It was just too hard to learn to live with another person, let alone the opposite sex. However, my heart was totally melted by this wonderful Godly man that Susannah had brought into my life. I felt I could trust him no matter what...but how could he commit to me now? I had cancer, and he had lost the love of his life to cancer already, why would he take the chance on another? But he did. We went through it together. My husband and his sons gave me my life back. I believe, had it not been for them, I never would have gone through this battle with cancer. So, for that first year as a new family, we took the time to grieve the loss of both Reed and Lydia.
I am now eight years out from cancer, and no sign of it returning. Chris who was 5 when he came into my life is now 13 years old and thriving. When we got married, English was Chris' second language, but since I was dyslexic, I understood his struggles. I spent many hours playing mama bear, with him on my lap reading together. He is now a 4. student.
My husband is a chaplain at St. Vincent Hospital, the very place we both lost our partners. God really can and does take very bleak situations and turn them into good, if we remain faithful to Him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)