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Tested by the Praise

Posted: September 16, 2014 in Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, Favor, Going Deeper - Hebrew and Greek Word Study Posts, Shemittah, Spiritual gifts, Tested By the Praise
Tags: jubilee, Shemittah, Spiritual gifts

September 6, 2014
By Amy Hartmann

On August 22, 2004, early in the morning, at 3:14 a.m. to be exact, my pastor (of our former church in Florida) had a dream given by God about me. The following morning, he saw me at church in my usual choir place. but he did not have an opportunity to share the dream. That same Sunday evening, August 22, 2004, I had a strong urgency to have our family at the Sunday night church service. We usually attended every service on Sunday but occasionally we might have a family outing on Sunday afternoon which would keep us away. That particular Sunday evening, everyone was tired and no one wanted to go but me. Getting everyone out the door was an emotional charge. As we were getting in the car, my son shut the door on his hand, bruising his hand and fingers. At that point, he was quite upset and not wanting to go. I got him an ice pack for his hand and insisted we go as a family.

The service worship was wonderful and comforting. My younger kids were sitting on the floor at our feet, drawing on some papers. Occasionally I would bend over and whisper for them to be less noisy. My oldest son sat quietly in his seat, keeping the ice on his bruised hand. As the worship moved down to a more intimate level, Pastor Zink took the podium and turned on his microphone. At that point he began to speak:

“Amy,” he said, as he looked down from the stage to where we were sitting, “The Lord had a dream given to me last night about you; it was about 3:14 in the morning; and I saw you in your house; and you were in your night gown. By the way it was very decent, long night gown. Which means, the reason I bring that up, was you were crying out to God in the night hours; and I saw you crying out to the Lord. It’s happened, hasn’t it, many times, but the Lord wants you to know He heard that (ha ha ha). And He said, “Amy, I haven’t forgot what you asked.” And He said, “I haven’t been keeping something from you – but for you.” And He said, “The time of release is at hand.” And for you to step forward in boldness. Don’t wait. Move ahead. Do what you know you are called to do. Do what you know you are gifted to do. Get lost in the giftings that He’s put in your life.” “OK?”

“It was so clear,” Pastor Zink continued, “I woke up immediately after that; it was just like I was there and it stirred me so tremendously. I saw you this morning but I did not have opportunity to give that word. And when I saw you worshiping the Lord tonight, you were sort of in a sitting position, but you were leaning over and you were just really pouring your heart out to the Lord, and He wanted you to know He heard, and He’s answering, OK?” Amen…isn’t God good?”

That evening, so many people came up to congratulate me. Over and over again, “…wow, what a prophetic word…”. Everyone seemed quite impressed. My flesh was no exception. My husband and I debated the meaning of such a revelation. We even sought pastoral counsel. As a writer, I had already completed several novels and was expecting the right publishing door to open as a result of the prophetic declaration.

TESTED BY THE WORD

The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold but man is tested by the praise he receives. Proverbs 27:21

Let another praise you, and not your own mouth; someone else, and not your own lips. Proverbs 27:2

Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth. Proverbs 27:1(1)

These verses began to leap out of the pages of my daily readings. I habitually go to the Proverbs on a regular basis – they provide the wisdom encounter my life requires. I began the internal debate with my heart; what did it mean to be ‘released’. I hoped it meant that the books would be published and my longings to a recognized writer would be fulfilled. Such goes the plumbing of pride deep in our heart, when God is on the scene. I remember one conversation I had with God (back in 1997) when I finished writing the first book:

“Look Lord, I wrote a novel. Don’t You think it should be published and released into the market place?”
“I am glad you accomplished this work,” He replied. “Please write the sequel.”
“What, You want me to write another book? What about book publishing and writer’s teas and promotional tours?
“Please write another one,” He patiently replied.

Life events continued and plumbed the depth of pride, trust, patience, hope and praise in my heart. As the pressure increased and the breakdown of my marriage unfolded, I watched, shocked and in a state of trauma brain. How could my spouse choose to make the decisions he was making? Where was his faith in God and his foundation on the word of God?

As the life storm howled around me, I chose to hold on to the word of God, and I continued my practice of reading aloud specific passages of scripture over myself, my family and my circumstances. Morning after morning and night after night, on my knees I declared Isaiah 35, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 49, 50, 52, 53, 54, 55, 60, 61, 62. Philippians 1-4 anchored my heart as I cried out for financial breakthrough. “Favor is better than silver or gold,” set the cadence of my daily plans, as job applications – one after another – were rejected.(2) Going back into the working world after a 20 year absence is very difficult for anyone in any given profession. I was no different. I was learning obedience through the trials I was suffering.(3) I was also learning that favor, [H#2580 chen – (khane): graciousness, kindness, favor](4) or the lack thereof, was guiding my life, much like a small rudder guides a massive ship.

Still, the mystery of the August 2004 prophecy called to me. Ten years have passed. Recently, I noticed a replay of a program focusing on the Hebrew concept of “the shemittah – the release” . I was familiar with the passages in Leviticus and Deuteronomy outlining the seven year cycle of allowing the land to rest from farming, the people as a nation to rest from heavy labor, and the cancellation of all debts, etc. At the end of seven year cycles of seven (the completion of the 49th year), a year of jubilee would be declared and all leased properties would return to the original owners, etc. The year of jubilee was to be a national year of celebration and resting – and receiving from the blessings of God on the land and the people.(5)(6)

I was NOT aware that according to the Hebrew calendar year 5775, this 7th cycle was to begin on September 24th-26th, 2014. I was also NOT aware that at the end of this Hebrew year 5775, the year of Jubilee will begin (September 13, 2015). Some of the nuances of this “shemittah” concept(5 &6), based upon the root, the figurative and the literal meanings include:
• to release, to fling down, fall or collapse
• to jostle or shake or stumble
• to begin to appear (i.e. incipently)
• figuratively, to let alone, desist or remit
• to discontinue, to overthrow or throw down
• remission of debt, or suspension of labor, to rest.

Looking back at my own life, I realized my family crisis began to fully manifest on Rosh Hashanah, (September 22, 2012). Oddly enough, key issues are reaching their culmination on September 23rd, 2014, just a day before the Hebrew “time of Release” begins. What an amazing prophecy and fulfillment, almost to the day, of the word from Pastor Zink’s dream back on August 22, 2004.

What I’ve also learned: when you are singled out and given such an honor in a corporate worship setting – watch out – God is warning and preparing you, getting you ready to face a crucial time in life – a time that would overwhelm you and crush you, unless you have the word of God and the promise of His presence.
No one is impervious to cataclysmic life events. The storms of life come to those who choose to build, regardless of a solid foundation or a shifting sand foundation. The common denominator is “the rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house”.(7)

What I take from this season of life: “God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him, as you have helped His people and continue to help them…We have this hope as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us, having become a high priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek.”(8)

***************************************************************************************************************************

End Notes:

1. Proverbs 27:21, 2, 1; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version,” copyright 1999; Zondervan Publishing, Grand Rapids, MI; page 1655.
2. Proverbs 22:1; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version,” copyright 1999; Zondervan Publishing, Grand Rapids, MI; page 1641.
3. Hebrews 5:7-8; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version,” copyright 1999; Zondervan Publishing, Grand Rapids, MI; page 3095.
4. Chen; Strong’s Hebrew Number 2580; “The New Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible”; copyright 1995, 1996; Thomas Nelson Publishers; Nashville, TN; page 45.
5. Shemittah; Strong’s Hebrew Number 8059; ibid; page 144.
6. Leviticus 25:1-7 and Deuteronomy 15; ibid; pages 329 and 499 and 501.
7. Matthew 7:24-29; ibid; page 2443.
8. Hebrews 6:16 and 19-20; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New American Standard Version,” copyright 1999; Zondervan Publishing, Grand Rapids, MI ibid, page 3097.

Do you dream of Me?

Posted: January 23, 2014 in Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, Do you dream of Me?, Going Deeper - Hebrew and Greek Word Study Posts
Tags: dreaming, dreams, grace, hope, prophetic, Spiritual gifts, visions

By Amy Hartmann

“How precious to me are Your thoughts, O God. How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. When I awake, I am still with You.”[1]

Dreams have prepared me for my future…

Dreams have reminded me of my past…

Dreams have been conversations – instigated by God – in the night watch.

As best I can remember, the first time God communicated with me in this particular way was the first week of December, 1978. God spoke to me in the night, preparing me for my father’s sudden, accidental death on December 14, 1978. It was my freshman year – and my first semester. I was enjoying my new found liberty and responsibilities at a small private junior college in Lebanon, Tennessee. God spoke and I listened. I awoke, terrified and hysterical. Back then, there were no cell phones or internet connections. Dawn was breaking as I tumbled out of bed and began searching for enough change to make a pay phone call to my parents. My roommate saw my panic and she hurried out of bed to see what was wrong. I quickly told her the dream as my tears fell. I had to talk with my Dad.

A month after his funeral, in January of 1979, I had another dream about my brother in a car wreck. I shared the dream with some school friends, as our college show choir traveled to my home town, to do a series of recruiting shows at numerous Chattanooga, TN high schools. We were all riding in a van being driven by our college choir director. Everyone knew of my earlier dream and they were all concerned with my grief load. When we arrived in Chattanooga, we were met by my mother. She was quite upset. My choir director was out of the van first and he began to talk with my mother. When I got out of the van, I was advised by our director, that my brother had indeed wrecked my mother’s car the night before. Thankfully my brother escaped with no serious injury to himself, but the car was almost totaled. Everyone in the van was amazed, because they all knew I had no way of knowing this information.

Now days everyone is texting and snap chatting every single minute of their lives, but in December of 1978, there were only occasional pay phone calls when we had enough change to spare. At this point, my choir friends were in agreement with me that something strange was going on in my sleep.

As the years progressed, I began to keep track of my dreams, as I encountered the future in my sleep. Dreams caused me to pick up the dusty Bible on the floor in my closet and carry it with me on my work trip to Leiden, Holland in 1987. Dreams stirred me out of my complacent, self-centered life style when I was working in Acton, England in 1988. Dreams caused me to examine, again, what the word of God had to say on this subject.

It is still interesting to me that the Book of Daniel was my random selection when I restarted my long neglected habit of reading the Bible. It was February of 1987 when I made this choice, while I was sitting in my quiet hotel room in City Hotel, Leiden – Holland. The entire book tracks the rise of a young, aristocratic, Hebrew teenage slave named Daniel, who found himself deported to the magnificent halls of the King of Babylon sometime in the Sixth Century, B.C. He eventually spent much of the next 60 years as an advisor to the various rulers of the Babylonian empire and its ensuing conquerors. Daniel’s narrative also documents some amazing and deeply disturbing prophetic, futuristic dreams.

The Bible is full of dreamers and the message they share is very clear: “…being warned of God in a dream…” people took action.[2]

Taking this key advice to heart, I began to seriously document my dreams in early 1990. I made footnote references and logged dream dates and content in the blank pages in the back of my Bible. Soon those pages were full and I took up dream journaling on tablets and spiral binders. My book shelf is full of these diary-like notebooks. Sometime in 2008 I took up daily prayer journaling. It was at this time I began in earnest to correlate life events with my dreams.

In early 2009 my sleep took on another form of revelation: I began to feel the earth shake. At first, I awoke to a shuddering feeling, as I heard the ground groan underneath our Jacksonville home. Fearful of this event, I woke my sleeping husband, warning him of the earthquake underway. He looked at me for a few moments, he said he felt nothing and then he went back to sleep.

October 14, 2009 the ground shook violently in my sleep, and I awoke convinced that Jacksonville had experienced a serious shaking. I made note of the time. The next morning, as I talked this over with my kids, no one else felt the tremors. I went online to the US Geological website, in search of earthquake documentation. Sure enough, at the time of my awakening there was a 2.6 tremor 14 miles from the US Virgin Islands.

During the months of November and December, 2009, the earth shook repeatedly and I awoke again and again, night after night; and with each incident, I tracked the time. Daily I went to the USGS website, verifying my logged tremors.

From my 2009 journal, I found this interesting note: Sunday March 8, 2009; I dream I am with a lot of young people in a big multi-story building. A terrible disaster occurs and the building is partially destroyed. Suddenly the manifest presence of God comes…His Glory in a great cloud of engulfing, blinding light. We all fall down, prostrate before His presence. I hear the hurting, wounded people all around me. I get up and begin to help them, praying for them as I dig them out of the rubble. I realize my oldest son is also in this building and I find him. We help more buried, hurting people. The blinding Glory of the Lord comes again and we all fall down in His presence, unable to move. I awaken at 8:14 a.m.

I have another interesting dream journal log entry from May 25, 2011; however the dream came to my daughter and not me (she was 12 at that time and we were still in Jacksonville, FL). She came into my office in the late morning and she was very upset. I realized she had been sleeping and I told her to come sit on my lap. I asked her what was wrong. She began to tell me about a great earthquake that shook the central part of our nation such that the monuments on Mount Rushmore split in half. She was terrified by this event.

In August of 2011, after we moved to Virginia, the entire North East Coast shook with the 5.9 Mineral, VA quake. This time I was wide awake. I was walking through my living room when I heard the dreaded sound of the groaning earth. It started out as a rumbling, and as the walls and the house began to move, I heard the glass rattle and my kids calling out in fear. We live less than an hour away from the epicenter. The rest of that week, strong tremors and aftershocks continued. The shaking underneath Mineral and Louisa, Virginia has continued, even as recently as December, 2013. My nighttime earth shaking experiences continue as well.

February 15, 2012, I dreamed I was sitting in my living room and suddenly a huge 8-9 ft man walks through the wall coming off the kitchen. He was dressed in a full Scottish kilt, with the tam, the sash and a thick, white sweater underneath. He gleamed, as if lit with his own light source. He was crossing diagonally through the house, as if it wasn’t even there. I yelped and cried out in great fear. He stopped and looked at me, and then he called my name and began telling me the most shameful, secret things I had ever done. His eyes burned with a fire I had never seen before. I was crushed and terrified. His thick Scottish accent made his words even sharper.

Suddenly I knew what to say to him. “Yes, that was me,” I agreed, “before I let Jesus wash those sins away with His shed blood at the cross of Calvary.”

“You have answered correctly,” he replied, and he started to walk on through the wall. I stopped him again and asked who he was and why he was walking through my house. This time he stopped and he smiled. “I am Towcheleth,” he replied, and then he disappeared through the hallway wall.

Greatly puzzled by this dream, I began trying to find the meaning of this name, which I only knew phonetically. I searched name websites, name books and even general internet name searches. One night several days after the dream, I was working on one of my website posts and I had a Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance opened to the Hebrew dictionary. Suddenly it occurred to me that the name this man gave me might be Hebrew. I had to search the entire reference section and it wasn’t until I got to the very end, 150 pages later, I discovered Hebrew # 8431: towcheleth (to-kheh-leth); expectation – HOPE; from Hebrew #3176: yachal (yaw-chal); a primitive root; to wait; by implication, to be patient; to cause to have hope, to have hope, to make to hope; to be pained, stay, tarry, trust, wait.[3] Finally I understood, Towcheleth was the Angel of Hope and he walked through my house on February 15, 2012.

Early morning, before 7:00 a.m, January 5, 2014; I dreamed of a massive earthquake that struck the nation and other parts of the world simultaneously. I heard the earthquake minutes before the terrifying shaking began. Others around me were crying out, trying to figure out what was making the pitiful, painful, ear-splitting groaning. I knew it was the earth and I began to warn them to hold on and get ready. Cities were leveled. The devastation was unlike anything I had ever seen on the news or even in some movies. My house was damaged slightly but deemed safe to occupy, and many homeless neighbors began to show up asking for shelter. Friends and business associates came seeking me out, trying to make sense of all that was taking place on the earth.

I awoke from that dream, troubled and stirred up by the magnitude of what I had seen and experienced. One specific scripture comes to mind as I remember this dream: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.”[4]

I decided to look up the word here for ‘groaning’ – Greek #4959: sustenazo (soos-ten-ad-zo); to moan jointly; i.e. experience a common calamity – groan together; from G#4862: sun (soon); primary preposition denoting union, with or together; by association, companionship, process… and from G#4727: stenazo (sten-ad-zo); to make or be in dire straits; to sigh, murmur, pray inaudibly; – with grief, groan, grudge, sigh.[5]

I have one last dream I want to share; arguably it is the most important dream I’ve ever received. September 17, 2011: I am walking along a busy, broad sidewalk in New York City. There are great crowds all around, and out of the corner of my left eye, I see a vividly bright, white robed figure walk past me. Suddenly I realize it is Jesus. I have never seen Him in person, and I am struck with awe and amazement that He is there beside me. He catches my eye and He acknowledges me with a glance of His eyes. He starts to walk away, but I call out His name and He stops.

I am weeping with the realization that I can see Jesus. I ask Him not to pass me by without at least letting me hug Him. He is happy with this request and opens His right arm to me in a loving embrace. His face is not beautiful, like the paintings. His face is marked with terrible scars. His hands are scarred. His feet are scarred. I am broken by those marks on His face, His hands and His feet. He holds me for several minutes and I feel the most amazing love I’ve ever experienced. It pours out from Him. He doesn’t speak, but His eyes tell me He has to go, there are others He must see and touch. I reluctantly let Him go and He takes one step and just disappears into the person walking directly in front of me. I wake up. Immediately I think of this scripture: “…to them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles (non-Jewish believers) the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”[6]

Additional Notes:[7]

I will praise the Lord, who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me. I have set the Lord always before me. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Psalm 16:7-8

Praise the Lord, all you servants of the Lord, who minister by night in the house of the Lord. Psalm 134:1

This is what the Lord says – your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: “I AM the Lord your God who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.” Isaiah 48:17

Seek the Lord, all you humble of the land, you who do what He commands. Seek righteousness, seek humility; perhaps you will be sheltered on the day of the Lord’s anger. Zephaniah 2:3

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion, shout in triumph O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your King is coming to you. He is just and endowed with salvation…He will speak peace to the nations…and His dominion will be from sea to sea… As for you also, because of the Blood of My Covenant with you, I have set your prisoners free…return to your fortress, O prisoners of HOPE; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you. Zechariah 9:9-12

[2] Matthew 2:13, 19-23; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version”; ibid, pages 2427-2429.

[4] Romans 8:22; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version”; ibid, page 2883.

[5] Greek 4959; sustenazo; 4862; sun; 4727; stenazo; “The New Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible”; ibid, pages 88, 86, 83.

[6] Colossians 1:27; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version”; ibid, page 3029.

[7] All notes; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version”; ibid, pages 1381, 1569, 1837, 2375, 2403.

Be Home By Christmas

Posted: December 17, 2013 in Be Home By Christmas, Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, Christmas Stories, Going Deeper - Hebrew and Greek Word Study Posts
Tags: Christmas, Spiritual gifts, supernatural, word of knowledge

By Amy L. Hartmann

Hopelessness can attack anyone…even the strongest and bravest of hearts. Death of a loved one, sickness, loss of employment, relationship conflict, loneliness, certain medications, extended periods of stress and even boredom can trigger feelings of malaise. When life events compound any of these conditions simultaneously, deep depression is often the result. Holidays often exacerbate this condition with a vengeance. The realization that there is a need for professional help must often come from outsiders.

How we talk to ourselves during these times of emotional and possibly physical crisis also determines how quickly we rise above these feelings and regain our footing. How we talk to ourselves also impacts how God responds to our needs during these times too. We find countless examples of this concept throughout the Psalms written by David, the shepherd boy turned warrior – especially during his long season of running for his life. Some biblical scholars say Saul, the reigning King, pursued David for almost 15 years seeking his extermination.

In 2009 my Jacksonville Mayapple Chapel home group hosts encountered such a challenging season. Candy and Ed were lifelong sweethearts. Married for over 60 years, their lives together had been rich and full of family adventure. Sometime in early 2008-2009 Candy began to experience symptoms of Alzheimer’s. Candy was a vivacious woman who loved to laugh and dance. Candy was woman who dearly loved God. At first, she was simply forgetful and distracted, but as spring commenced, she lost interest in food and she seemed to slip off into her own private world. Ed was devastated. As a man of faith, his on-going prayers were never ceasing but his circumstances began to overwhelm his stout heart.

Outside event scheduling over much of 2008 had caused the usual monthly gathering of friends at the Bateman home to fall off, such that for the first time in 26 years, the Mayapple Chapel home group did not meet on the first Friday of every month. During that same spring Ed got sick and he was bed-ridden for weeks. It was during this time that depression attacked. At some point, his medication levels were totally out of balance and he took too much. He wound up in Gainesville at the Veterans Administration hospital on the Psychiatric floor.

Life for me was very chaotic in the spring and summer of 2009. We were into our first full year of homeschooling – suddenly I was teaching or facilitating high school, middle school and elementary school classes simultaneously. The economy was reeling, the stock market was crazy; employers were laying off high level staff in record numbers. May 4^th saw my husband experience such a day from his senior partner position at one of the top 10 engineering firms in the nation. Everything was shaking.

“My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death assail me. Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me…Be merciful to me, O God, for men hotly pursue me; all day long they press their attack. My slanderers pursue me all day long; many are attacking me…have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me. I will take refuge in the shadow of Your wings until the disaster has passed.”[1]

To be overwhelmed by life’s circumstances – to lose heart or be faint hearted – is a biblical concept very applicable in today’s ever shifting world. The Hebrew word for anguish of heart is interesting: H#2342 – chuwl (khool) – means to twist or whirl (in a circular or spiral manner); i.e. Specifically – to dance, to writhe in pain (such as childbirth) or fear; to wait, to fall grievously from pain or fear; to be wounded etc.[2]

David’s advice to himself as a fugitive in the wilderness (long before he became king):

Surely God is my help[3]
Cast your cares upon the Lord and He will sustain you[4]
As for me, I trust in You (God) – what can man do to me? [5]
I cry out to God Most High, who fulfills His purpose for me.[6]

Father’s Day, June 21^st, 2009, a young man named Todd White showed up at our church’s Sunday night service. Todd shared how God delivered him from years of crack cocaine addiction and drug use. Todd said he wanted to pray for everyone with one leg shorter than the other. My kids urged me to go forward. I was in a built up right shoe to counteract the 1 inch difference with my left leg. After Todd’s prayer, my right leg grew out the full inch it needed to be the same length as my left leg. My eyes saw this miracle, and my heart and mind could not get over what I had felt, seen and experienced at that indescribable moment. Wrecked by this paradigm shift, I began to view God in a whole new way.

In my time in choir, our worship leader (Kelanie Gloeckler) was unpacking the concept of ascending in worship to hear the thoughts and songs heaven was saying – and singing over us, and then bringing them back down and releasing them into our atmosphere. She learned this amazing concept during her time at Morningstar under the influence of Rick Joyner, Leonard Jones, Ray Hughes, Don Potter, Suzy Wills Yarai and other amazing leaders and musicians. As a choir, over the summer of 2009, we were learning to ‘catch the song’ Jesus was singing over us. We were working hard on the new music for Kelanie’s upcoming album recording in November, 2009.[7]

It was during this time I heard of Ed Bateman’s condition and his placement at the VA hospital in Gainesville, Florida.

“The Lord your God is in the midst of you, A Mighty One, A Savior (Who saves)! He will rejoice over you with joy! He will rest (in silent satisfaction) and in His love He will be silent and make no mention (of past sins, or even recall them)]; He will exult over you with singing.”[8]

The Hebrew word for exult H#1523 giyl (gheel) – means to spin round (under the influence of any violent emotion); i.e. Usually gladness or joy; rejoicing.[9] The picture here is of Jesus, rejoicing over us in His wild, crazy dance of love and approval. Jesus advised the crowds (who followed him in his day) to pray in every situation and not lose heart.[10]

I began to pray earnestly for Ed and Candy. I had not been to their house in a while because of my busyness. I contacted the friend who shared Ed’s status and tried to work out how we could all go see him. I knew he needed to see our renewed love and concern for him and for Candy. Every attempt to schedule any trip to Gainesville was met with great conflict. In mid October, Don Potter came to our church in Jacksonville. He sang over our city and over our congregation, declaring many things. It was then I began to hear a song for Ed.

One more unsuccessful attempt to see Ed caused us to decide to just make a trip over to see Candy. She was still at their home and needing company and comfort too. I called some of the other Mayapple Chapel friends and we decided to meet at Candy’s house on October 23^rd (2009). I was pleased to see the smiling faces of Janet Meyers and Roxie McLeod and several other friends. We sat and visited with Candy for a short time but it was clear Candy didn’t fully remember us all or grasp why we were there. We talked with her nurse, glad to hear that Candy was in good care in Ed’s absence.

It was at that moment, as our visit was coming to a close, I knew it was time to sing. “I would like to sing for Candy before we leave,” I suddenly offered. My friends were used to me singing with them and no one seemed uncomfortable with my request.

“That would be nice,” Janet and Roxie agreed. “What would you like to sing?”

At that moment, the idea seemed so crazy but Ed was so far away, locked up on a psych ward with his own mental and emotional issues, so I just opened my mouth and lifted up my song:

“I’ll be home for Christmas….you can plan on me.

Please have snow and mistletoe…and presents on the tree.

I’ll be home for Christmas…just you wait and see…

I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.

Christmas Eve will find me…where the love light gleams.

I’ll be home for Christmas…BUT it won’t be a dream!”[11]

My friends looked at me, somewhat perplexed by my song choice; after all, it was October. Not risking their censure, I repeated the chorus several times before they finally joined in, and soon Candy was singing along too. The expression on each of their faces is still a picture I see in my mind. We sang a few more hymns, which we knew Candy would love, and she seemed to cheer up with each chorus. After we were done and getting ready to leave, Candy’s nurse thanked us for coming and we told her we would be back soon to visit with Candy again. Our plans were to join her sometime around Thanksgiving.

On our way out to our cars, I tried to explain my strange choice of music and my change of words. I told them about what I learned from Kelanie…how I could hear that song being sung over Candy and Ed by Jesus. They appreciated my boldness, but I could see the unspoken questions in their eyes. We all left, making plans to get back together in a couple of weeks.

It was sometime just before Thanksgiving I received an update from Janet and Roxie: Ed Bateman was home and the family was planning a big gathering at Thanksgiving. They felt it was too soon to have the whole Mayapple Chapel gang back over at the house for the monthly meeting, but everyone, including Ed seemed eager for us to gather again at Christmas. Astonished, I hung up the phone. I could tell from Roxie and Janet’s comments that they were just as impressed as me.

Christmas Day we gathered with Candy and Ed again to restart the Mayapple Chapel monthly gatherings. Now everyone was finally back in place and the routine was reestablished. It wasn’t a dream…Ed was back home, back from the brink of hopelessness and overwhelming depression. Candy was smiling, even in her fog of Alzheimer’s. The fellowship was restored and it was all because of the song of the Lord.

Ed and Candy Bateman with Paul Walker, 2003

“The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”[12]

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us and eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So, we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.[13]

************************************************************************

Notes:

G#1573 ekkakeo (ek-kak-eh’o) to fail (in heart); to be (bad or) weak hearted, faint, weary; to be despondent[14]

II Cor 1:2-7 (The God of all comfort – comforts us so that we can comfort others)

[4] Psalm 55:22; ibid; page 1447.

[5] Psalm 56:3; ibid, page 1447.

[6] Psalm 57:2; ibid, page 1449.

[9] Hebrew no. 1523; giyl; Strong, James; ibid; page 27.

[10] Luke 18:1; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New American Standard Version”; ibid; page 2657.

[13] II Corinthians 4:16-18; ibid, page 2961.

[14]Greek no. 1573; ekkakeo; Strong, James; ibid, page 28.

I Have No One Like You

Posted: November 23, 2013 in Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, Kindred Spirits, The Super in my natural...
Tags: cats, Spiritual gifts, supernatural, word of knowledge

November 23, 2013

By Amy Hartmann

“For I have no one else of kindred spirit who will genuinely be concerned for your welfare.”[1]

Planted within the heart of every person lies the heart cry to be understood and respected by friends and peers. However, within the very core of this desire resides a cellular cry for like-mindedness. The power and force of unity plays out in every field of work and enterprise. The nature of sports carries this same root concept. Teams win or lose based upon the chemistry and connectedness of the individual players and their willingness to be united at this complex level of the soul.

The Greeks understood this in their culture and language. Strong’s Concordance has this to say about isopsuchon, the Greek word the apostle Paul used in this expression of his heart: G#2473 isopsuchos – (ee-sop’-soo-khos); of similar spirit, ‘equal-souled’; equally sensitive; likeminded.[2]

As I studied out this concept, I came across a great article in a blog by David Rogol. He offers this compelling thought:

“Do you have a kindred spirit? Someone with whom you can share anything under the sun? Someone who thinks like you, believes like you, has the same attitudes and feelings as you? Someone who can finish your sentences and complete your thoughts? If you do then you are truly blessed in this life. If not, then perhaps you should ask God for a kindred spirit…”[3]

I have learned that kindred spirits come in all shapes and sizes. I have likeminded friends in all age groups, and when I find a true kindred heart, it is my desire to cultivate and highly value their company and their time. Sometimes God sends us animal friends who become kindred spirits.

I have always been an animal lover. Cats, in their independent and often disdainful way, have been some of the most interesting creatures I’ve befriended. In 2000, my 13 year old feline friend named Mouse, had to be put down because of illness. I was grieving but I learned long ago the best antidote for such pain is to find a new pet. When my husband first proposed in 1992, I made the following prenuptial declarations: first and foremost, I am not a morning person; secondly, I don’t iron; and finally, I have cats.

By 2000, I had one busy husband and 3 energetic children – ages 2, 5 and 7. Life was hectic and I knew the dangers of adding one more demand to my list of responsibilities. Puppies and kittens are cute but they can also be very disruptive. I did not feel like tackling such a project. Shortly after Mouse’s demise, some choir friends of mine came to me and made the generous offer to give me their two cats. My friend, Jill was 8 months pregnant with her second child. Her life was complicated and demanding too. Lily and Chaz, she said, were 2 year old cats from the same litter. They both spent much time in the laundry room when the family was not at home. Neither cat was very fond of the other and they both had been declawed.

The ages of the cats were acceptable to me, but I let Jill’s husband, Kurt know he had to get this cleared through my husband. Kurt, not being a cat person himself, was perfectly willing to sell this idea with great enthusiasm. Once permission was received, Kurt made a quick trip to our house bearing a not very happy pair of cats. Jill was comforted to see Lily and Chaz go to such a good home. They were her cats, after all, and she was less eager to part with their company than her cat hating husband.

It was March of 2000 when this exchange took place and I welcomed the cat siblings with much tenderness and attention. My kids were quite happy to have these new friends to chase around the house. Soon Lily befriended my 2 year old daughter and Chaz settled his affections upon me. Our friendship grew as Chaz fully accepted us as his new family. Soon his desire to roam outdoors overwhelmed our ability to keep him inside. With the kids running outside to play, eventually Chaz found his freedom and he was one happy cat. His lack of front claws did not slow him down as he chased away any neighbor cat taking liberty in our yard. As he matured, his size and weight increased. By 2004, at 18 pounds, he was massive. His size made him more like a small bobcat than a house cat.

His love of freedom took him through the entire neighborhood. All we could do was make sure he had his collar and tags. At some point in early May of 2004, Chaz offended neighbors across the street from us. I was not aware of this situation. Chaz disappeared and we did not see him; nor could we find him any where in the neighborhood. Throughout this time, the kids and I prayed intently for his safety and his return. May 23^rd, 2004 I was drying my hair and lost in thought about my missing friend. Suddenly, I heard this message in my heart: “Chaz is at the pound. Your neighbors captured him and had him taken away.”

At that same moment, in my mind I saw a black cage and I knew we had to hurry to rescue him. I finished getting ready and then ran out to get the kids. I told them about the message from God – the word of knowledge – the revelation I had just received. That afternoon we went to the Humane Society, expecting to find our prisoner. We searched in all of the cages, but Chaz was no where to be found. I talked with an attendant and they explained that a trapped cat was probably at the pound, on the other side of Jacksonville. The pound would be open until 6:00 pm.

I hurriedly looked at a map. The pound was almost an hour away and we were in rush hour traffic. Fearful for Chaz’ safety, we made the long drive to the Jacksonville Animal Control shelter and quickly hurried inside. I had Chaz’ big dog collar and tags in my hand, since these had been found outside in our yard when he disappeared.

My oldest son found Chaz first. “Mom, here he is,” Lorren called out. I went to the cage but I didn’t recognize the cat at first. His head was badly wounded from bagging his head against the trap. He was very sick. According to Animal Control records, he had been with them over three weeks and he was scheduled to go to the ‘chamber’ within a few days if not rescued. I called out his name and his loud cry of response broke my heart. My friend was so glad to see me.

As I was paying his fine and securing his freedom, the lady processing our papers saw his big collar and tags and she warned me about our not so friendly neighbor who had the cat trapped as a stray. My heart fell as I thought about how close Chaz had come to sure death. On the way home, we stopped at the vet to have him treated and checked over for the source of his sickness. Our vet said he had a kennel virus that usually proved fatal. Cats lost their ability to smell and their desire to eat. Chaz was down to 14 pounds and his fever was high. The vet said if I could get the cat to eat, then it stood a chance of surviving.

Several weeks passed as I syringe fed Chaz every bit of liquid I could get into his mouth. One evening I roasted a chicken in the oven and used olive oil for the basting. Chaz came into the kitchen when I pulled the food out of the oven. He meowed and seemed interested in the smell for the first time since his rescue. By this time, his weight was down to 12 pounds and he looked terrible. Once dinner was over, I took the roasting juices left in the bottom of the roasting pan and mixed them with some mashed potatoes. I fed this to Chaz. I could hear his stomach growling as the liquid made it down his throat. Happily he began to purr.

Later that evening, he had a new level of energy as he joined me on the couch once the kids were all in bed asleep. I fed him again with this liquid over the next few days and soon he began to recover his appetite. By mid June, he was eating again and regaining some weight. All my hands-on-care had further deepened his attachment to me. As soon as he came in from being outside, he would begin to call for me. The kids would laugh and say, “Chaz loves his mommy.”

This past February, 2013, Chaz started having trouble eating. By now he and his sister were 15. Our family had been through so much transition with our move from Jacksonville in 2011 and then the unexpected departure of my husband in September of 2012. The kids and I were in a state of shock and hurt over the marriage breakdown. We were also in the fog of trauma. We were all going through the motions of living, but grief and hurt kept us all trapped in our own emotional cages.

We prayed continually for Chaz’ recovery. I offered him all sorts of food changes to try and get him to eat. Slowly he got thinner and sicker. There were no funds to take him to the vet. I knew if he had a terminal condition the vet would just say to put him down. All I could do was pray.

March 5^th, it began to snow heavily and I could tell Chaz was finally beginning to languish drastically. I made a bed for him in my bedroom on a shirt of mine he favored. I could hear him through the night as he struggled. I spent much time with him, holding him and talking to him. He made it through the night but finally died about noon. His last bit of strength he used to climb into my lap one more time. I told him what a special friend he had been to me and how much I loved him. It was then I began to weep.

Suddenly we all were weeping as the kids joined me at his bed. Our thoughts and conversation went back to that day in May of 2004, when God spared Chaz. Our tears seemed to open up a new level of healing. As we wept and grieved together, something changed. The next day, I went outside in the snow and cleared a spot under my bedroom window. As I dug away the snow and the dirt, I realized that Chaz’ passing was part of the plan too. We needed him in death as much as he needed us in life. We needed something greater than the pain of the past to push us out of the emotional trap that settled down upon us.

I journal in most of the margins of my Bible. My life is written among the pages. Philippians 4 carries my note of the goodness of God to rescue Chaz on May 23, 2004.

“It was good of you to share in my troubles…not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content whatever circumstances. I know what it is to be in need and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength...and my God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory forever and ever. Amen.”[4]

[3] Rogel, David; “Do You Have A Kindred Spirit”; published May 3, 2011; http://calvary4u.blogspot.com/2011/05/do-you-have-kindred-spirit.html; accessed 11-21-2013.

Going to Goshen

Posted: November 6, 2013 in Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, Going Deeper - Hebrew and Greek Word Study Posts, The Super in my natural...
Tags: grace, prophesy, prophetic, supernatural

By Amy Hartmann

There have been specific times in my life when I’ve felt the propelling winds of the prophetic – either through spoken words or specific events – breaths of the Spirit which have redirected the entire course of my life. The Hebrew name for Holy Spirit is Ruwach Ha Qodesh [Strong’s’ # H7307 – (roo-akh) wind, violent exhalation, breath, current of air].[1] The word qodesh [H6944; Qodesh (ko-desh)] means sacred – consecrated, hallowed, most holy.[2] His very name means “Holy Breath of God”.

The gift of prophecy has been defined as the given ability of interpreting the divine will and purpose of God.[3] The Old Testament writer, Hosea explains: “The Lord used a prophet to bring Israel up from Egypt, by a prophet He cared for him.”[4] Another translation says, “He preserved him.”[5]

In early 2010, the economic downturn which began in 2008, was extracting a huge toll on engineering personnel in the state of Florida. Other areas of the nation were also embroiled in this cataclysmic event. Our family was caught up in the economic famine. We began to intensely seek God’s answer to this crucial situation. I took this issue to heart and on March 5^th, at a home group meeting, I shared my fearful concerns over my husband’s soon approaching job needs. At that time, he was consulting with the City of Jacksonville and their road programs were out of funds. Out of respect for his work ethic and ability, they advised him many months in advance, so he could respond accordingly.

My cell group, which was held at the home of Candy and Ed Bateman, had been meeting on a monthly basis for at least 25 years. Most of the attendees had been friends through church and work all of that time. A significant number of them were retired elders and career missionaries well into their late 70s or early 80s. As one of the youngest members of this special group, I loved to hear their stories of life challenges and how God brought them through with amazing grace. I considered it a great privilege to be so warmly welcomed into their longstanding company.

The concept of gathering in each other’s homes for fellowship is not a new one. The New Testament book of Acts explains this form of church gathering as a common practice. My friends lovingly called their group The Mayapple Chapel, after the Bateman house street name. On the Friday evening of March 5^th, 2010, we all gathered in a big circle to join hands and pray. Numerous needs were raised and my request was just one of many. After our intense time of prayer, one of the members – a lady named Nancy – sat back down on the couch and shut her eyes tightly. Her actions caught my attention. I stood with the group, saying goodbye, when Nancy finally opened her eyes. She motioned for me to join her on the couch. As soon as I was seated, she pulled me close and gave me this message: “You’re going to Goshen.”

At that specific moment, I thought her message quite strange; in fact I was tempted to dismiss her revelation, but something caught in my heart and I knew I must pay attention to her words. I hugged her and thanked her for pressing into the heart of God on my behalf. She smiled, happy with my acknowledgment. I left the den where we were meeting and I went to the kitchen to pick up my dish and finish my goodbyes to the folks gathered in the kitchen. Several minutes passed when I saw Nancy come hurrying out of the den. She was motioning for me to wait. “I got something else,” she said. “Do you know this passage in the book of Proverbs: “Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings. He will not serve before obscure men.”[6]?”

I knew the passage well, I was praying it over my situation. As I drove home, I puzzled over Nancy’s words. I knew that Goshen (biblically) referenced an area in Egypt in the Eastern Nile delta, suitable for growing crops and supporting large herds of livestock[7]. Goshen was described by Pharaoh as ‘the best of the land’ in the Genesis 47 narrative. Pharaoh gave it to Joseph’s family upon their arrival, when the huge family of Jacob and their flocks (Jacob was renamed Israel by God) moved to Egypt to escape the famine that threatened the entire known world of that day. Joseph, second in command of Egypt by that time, had been sold into slavery by his jealous brothers many years earlier. Goshen, however, was near enough but NOT in the capital city of Egypt. Somehow, I knew this word had something to do with being near Washington, DC.

By May of 2010, the urgency to make a job change was well upon my husband. In early June, he began researching other states besides Florida, in search of employment. He applied for four jobs in South Carolina and his resume was positively accepted for consideration. Suddenly the governor of SC went through his own marriage crisis and everyone in state government froze to watch the scandal unfold. By early July, it was apparent that SC was not going to make any decisions for a long time, so my husband began to look at other government state job postings. The state of Virginia ‘suddenly’ posted a series of jobs, 8 of which were distinct possibilities, and my husband applied. The postings were only open for 6 weeks. By the middle of August, he was in Virginia interviewing with the many different offices, and by September he was hired and on his way to a small town west of Fredericksburg.

I had never noticed the area south of DC, other than to note the historical significance of many famous Revolutionary and Civil War battlefields. We put our Jacksonville home up for sale and prayed. Months passed and the home market in Florida continued to deteriorate. By early May of 2011, the half-price sale was well underway for most real estate transactions, and our home was no exception.

Then, a series of interesting events began to unfold. May 26^th, as I was sitting in my office in late afternoon prayer, the phone rang. A cheerful voice exclaimed, “Hi, this is Marilyn Hickey…”. I waited for the message to continue, fully convinced that this was a recorded call. The voice paused and then said, “hello, are you still there?”

“Marilyn, is this really you?” I replied. She answered positively and asked how she could pray for me. I explained the condition of our home sale and the separation in our family. She happily prayed for us and our situation. I was so amazed to be speaking to one of my favorite Bible teachers and spiritual mothers. Marilyn’s televised ministry spans the globe and she prays and ministers to world leaders. Her amazing miracle stories have inspired me for over 20 years. I’ve read many of her books and listened to her teaching for such a long time. It was a miracle to me that she would call to see how we were doing! Within the next two weeks we had a buyer for our home. The short sale was still a reality but at least it was getting the home off our plate so we could move.

June 11^th, 2011, the Global Day of Prayer service was held in Jacksonville at the Veterans Coliseum. This world event had never been held in the USA. It was pause for consideration that of all the big cities capable of hosting the GOD TV televised event, Jacksonville was selected. I was able to participate in the GDOP choir – an event that will remain a true highlight of my choral history.

June 17^th,2011, my husband was able to secure a home for us in a small rural community west of Fredericksburg, much to our entire family’s relief. The movers were scheduled for July 19^th and I began to hurriedly pack up our belongings.

As I packed, I remembered getting ready to move to Jacksonville back in the summer of 1997. Back then, I was 6 months pregnant with our daughter. I was very discouraged about leaving all of my friends in Atlanta, and a dear missionary friend gave me the book, “I’m Sitting At His Feet But Who’s Going To Cook Dinner” by a lady named Cathy Lechner. In the summer of 1997, Cathy and her family lived in Jacksonville, FL. The book was a great encouragement to me as I struggled to take care of my two young sons, pack and get ready to move. Jacksonville seemed so far away from my enjoyable life in Atlanta, but husband and job changes take priority. Since our 1997 move to Jacksonville, I had always wanted to hear Cathy speak, but her family moved away from Jacksonville several months after we arrived.

Shortly after the 4^th of July, 2011, I saw an announcement on our church’s web site: Cathy Lechner was going to be in Jacksonville for one Wednesday night service. The coincidence was astonishing to me. Even though I had so much packing left to accomplish, I went to church on July 13^th, 2011, happy to finally see this interesting lady. That evening, Cathy shared her own story of great hardship, as she taught about Paul’s shipwreck off the coast of Malta (a story found in Acts chapters 27 & 28). She explained her own season of shipwreck, and how God had brought her through. Her story was painful and extraordinary. Then our Pastor announced he wanted her to pray over all the leadership.

I was a community life group leader, and with great excitement I joined the mass of folks standing in the front waiting on Cathy’s prophetic prayer. Being in a hurry on such a night is irrelevant; prophetic prayer lines take as long as they take. I had so much to do at home but here was Cathy, working her way down the line, praying and prophesying over some people for 4-5 minutes. As impatient as I felt, I really wanted to hear what she would have to pray over my situation. Soon she was standing in front of me. I closed my eyes, expecting to hear her words, but all I heard was her exclaim in a loud voice, “NOW” and I felt a huge whack on my head. I dropped to the floor like I had been hit by a lightening bolt.

The heaviness and the warmth I felt on top of me was intoxicating. I could not move. Other people went down besides me, and I could feel them fall so near where I was laying. After about 15 minutes, I felt I could move a few feet. I opened my eyes, I was still overpowered by the warm, heavy presence. I managed to crawl backwards so that I was leaning up against the first row of seats. People were ‘laid out’ all over the floor in front of me. I was still immobilized.

Time passed. The service ended. People got up to leave and little kids came down front in search of their parents. I still could not move. A little girl asked her mother why I was sleeping on the floor in church. I wanted to laugh but I could not even move my mouth. Soon only the stage hands and musicians were left. A friend of mine came to sit on the floor beside me, since she did not want me to be there by myself. She leaned up against me, and I heard her pray for me. Suddenly I felt the heavy presence begin to flow off of me and then on to her. She started to laugh as she experienced my condition.

“My cup runneth over,” I mumbled, trying to warn her about leaning up against me.

“Oh no,” she exclaimed, as the heaviness pulled her down, “my husband Jimi is at home waiting on me to help him with our taxes.”

I managed to laugh, I knew we were not going anywhere. I knew I could not drive in the condition I was in, and she did not seem like she was moving fast either. We began to laugh and mumble words and prayers. Maybe 30 minutes later, the heavy warm cloud began to lift. It took me a few more minutes before I could stand. We helped each other up and we talked about our sadness over my family’s move away from Jacksonville. Suddenly I knew I was supposed to give her a message from Holy Spirit.

“Go home, put your hands on your husband’s chest and declare over him, ‘my cup runneth over’,” I told her. “Even if he thinks we are weird, tell him its important.”

“Alright,” she said, as we went out into the parking lot and headed for home.

That night, she did as I asked. The next afternoon, her husband, Jimi, was in a staff meeting where Cathy Lechner was speaking. At the end of the meeting, Cathy was praying for all the staff. When Cathy got to Jimi, she gave him this same message, “My cup runneth over!”

When my friend told me this later on, it brought me much joy, even as the reality of moving loomed ahead. On Friday evening, July 16^th, 2011, the heavy presence of the Lord paid my house a call.

All afternoon I packed, still with a grieving heart. I loved Jacksonville and my church family. The thought of leaving them and the manifest presence of the Lord, weighed me down. I planned to cook up a big dinner for my kids and some of our friends who were helping us get some last minute things done. Josh and Ransom had been close friends of ours and we were going to miss them greatly. I wanted them to have a big meal with us one more time. I grilled all the meat left in the freezer. We could not move any food other than canned goods and seasonings, etc.

At dinner that night, I shared my Wednesday night experience. Josh and Ransom were used to such happenings in their International House of Prayer times and they rejoiced over the refreshing I received. After dinner, we all were very full and lethargic. We went into the living room to rest and chat.

Josh said, “Mrs. Amy, that was such a wonderful meal. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

That afternoon my husband called and said his work situation was turning very negative. He was concerned about the office who had hired him. He asked me to pray. So, I turned to Josh and asked him if he and Ransom would pray for my husband’s job and our move.”

“Sure, Mrs. Amy,” Josh replied. He and Ransom came and stood behind the chair where I was sitting, and they began to pray for me. I don’t remember their words, I just remember the heavy, warm presence of the Lord returning, and I was immobilized again.

“Pray for Hannah and Samuel,” I mumbled.

Hannah was sitting on the couch, playing a game on her DS. As a 13 yr old, she was not much interested in our prayer time. Josh sat down on the couch beside her. He placed his hand on her head and prayed a few things. Suddenly Josh started laughing and he slid off the couch. Hannah started laughing, she dropped her DS, and she fell over sideways, still laughing. “Oh, I feel so warm and sleepy,” she giggled.

Then, she began to prophesy: “Oh Mom, they’re going to fire Dad at work,” she cried. Then she giggled again, “…but they’re going to rehire him!”

Josh and Ransom, by this time, were laughing and falling over on the floor. “Go pray for Samuel,” I whispered.

Josh and Ransom crawled over to Samuel’s chair. Samuel looked perplexed and not to sure about all that was taking place. Josh and Ransom stood up and moved behind Samuel’s chair. Then they prayed for Samuel. When they were done, Samuel got up from the chair like he was going to leave the room. He walked a few feet behind the couch and then he headed for a recliner. “I think I need to rest,” he mumbled. “I feel so warm and sleepy now too!”

“My hands feel very heavy,” Samuel continued, once he was resting in the recliner. Then he began to prophesy. “Mom, they are going to fire Dad,” he added, “but then Dad is going to get a better job!”

Under the heavy anointing of the Lord, all the words Samuel and Hannah were receiving seemed so funny. We all were laughing at Josh, who was now out cold on the floor. Ransom had leaned up against the wall and slid about half way down. There he remained, frozen like a statue. Why he didn’t fall over, I still don’t understand. We stayed in this joyful warm place of peace for a good hour. Soon it was time for the boys to head home to their own families, and we still had so much packing to do.

By Monday, July 19^th, the temperatures in Jacksonville were in triple digits. A huge high pressure system was also sitting over the state of Virginia and temperatures there were breaking records. Over those next 3 days, I got about 6 hours of sleep as we helped the movers get the big truck loaded and ready for transport. We still had our own truck to pack, and the aquariums to break down. By 4:00 pm late Thursday afternoon, we finally loaded up all we could carry. I had Samuel and Hannah with me in my car; our miniature dachshund, Callie; our 2 cats fighting in their kennel; our 6 massive goldfish and the 10 inch Pleco were safely packed in our 30 gallon cooler, and we were on the road. I felt like Mrs. Noah, driving up I-95 with my zoo in the car.

We drove all night, stopping only for gas and food, since we could not leave the animals. My wonderful step-father-in-law joined us at the North Carolina – South Carolina border. He helped with the driving from there. I was completely exhausted.

Sometime around 5:00 a.m. we arrived in Fredericksburg, VA and we turned west toward our new community. We stopped at an intersection and I remember seeing several signs on the hillside. One sign read “Riverbend High School” and another banner “LifePoint Church”. At that moment, as we waited for the light to change, I heard Holy Spirit say, “this will be your new church”. As tired as I was at that moment, having so little sleep, and doing so much physical labor in such high temperatures, I was amazed at the clarity of His voice. This was obviously crucial and I needed a clarion word at that moment.

Exactly one month later, many difficult circumstances began to unfold. The week began calmly enough, but by Tuesday afternoon (August 23, 2011) the earth was shaking violently – literally underneath our home – and most of the east coast. The epicenter of the 5.9 quake was 23 miles from our house. Aftershocks continued for days. On Thursday, a thunderstorm tore through our area, dumping hail and loosing tornadoes. During that powerful event, my husband was let go from his job that initiated all this change in the first place. By Saturday, Hurricane Irene had come ashore and was moving slowly up the Virginia coast.

The kids and I remembered the prophecies from that evening prayer with Josh and Ransom back in July. All we could do was hang on to the hope which was released on that amazing night, and try to encourage my fearful husband. I was determined not to be afraid, so I quickly involved our family with our church. After a couple of Sundays, it was clear that LifePoint was in the middle of great visitation of the presence of the Lord. At one service, over 100 people went forward to give their lives to Jesus and to be immediately baptized. None of those people had planned to do such a thing when they visited that day. As Pastor said, “They came in dry – they went home wet!”

The church was also getting ready for the fall season and leadership launched new home groups. Everyone not part of a group was encouraged to sign up, so one Sunday near the end of August, I went out in the lobby and signed our family up for the closest group near our neighborhood. The next Saturday night we were knocking on the Tritt family door in their lovely home in Somerset.

It was hard for us to walk in cold to someone’s home, especially when we had been through so much change and so much tragedy. Finances were tight – emotions were high – and none of us felt very socialable. As we introduced ourselves, we found out this home group had been meeting for many years. Our family and another couple were the only new faces. We all sat down and chatted as we waited for the group study time to begin. Soon we were watching Pastor Daniel Floyd’s “Living The Dream” series.

I had great empathy for the Joseph story and all of the tragedy outlined in Genesis Chapter 37. Like Joseph, I too was a dreamer, and my biggest fear was focused on all the negative events we had walked through over the past year. The single biggest question I had buried deep in my heart was my constant wondering “if we were where we were supposed to be – had we missed God?”

The group worked through the study booklet and questions. “What are some of your dreams?” the leader asked. One man began to share a very personal story – one of the great loss of his two teenage daughters – a story we did not fully understand until much later. He made this statement, as he wiped away a few tears, “…back when we were at Goshen…”

Suddenly I was alert and stirred up; there was the prophecy word from my friend back in March of 2010. As soon as the group study time finished, as the leader was taking prayer requests, I raised my hand and blurted out this question: “Is there a Goshen around here?”

The leader stopped and a funny look came over his face. “Yes there is,” he replied with some reluctance. “Pastor Daniel was the youth leader at Goshen, and we were the first home group there too. Goshen helped launch the extremely popular youth service as a church plant. That group helped form LifePoint. Why do you ask?”

Now it was my turn to answer and I quickly shared with them how my home group had sent me off with the prophetic declaration… you’re going to Goshen. When I shared the whole story, and how relieved I was to hear we were at the right place, a holy hush fell in the room. Many of the group members began to recognize and feel the presence of Holy Spirit in a special way.

Suddenly, I fully grasped the concept of “a needle in a haystack”. The needle has to find you. Goshen grace guided us and delivered us to the right place – LifePoint.

I can’t really delve into all the ways that this prophecy has been fulfilled. I can say LifePoint stood by us over an over again. Seven months later, my husband was rehired by another office from the same government agency. In May of 2012, he also got a better job – just like the kids prophesied.

I still feel the prophetic wind blowing. There’s that afterthought scripture about appearing before kings…

[1] Genesis 1:2; “The Comparative Study Bible – The New International Version,” copyright 1999; Zondervan Publishers, Grand Rapids, Michigan; pages 2 & 3; and Hebrew Number 7307; “The New Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible;” copyright 1995 & 1996; Thomas Nelson Publishers, Nashville, Tennessee; page 130.

[7] Goshen, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Land_of_Goshen; accessed October 8, 2013.

Wells We Did Not Dig

Posted: September 26, 2013 in Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, The Super in my natural..., Wells We Did Not Dig
Tags: Fort Caroline National Park, Huguenots, repentance

Wells We Did Not Dig

by Amy Hartmann

September 25, 2013

One of my sons turned 18 this month. I think about this milestone and my mind goes back 10 years ago, to a small 8 year old boy playing with legos on the floor in his room as I read nightly devotions to all of my kids. It was the first of October 2003 and I was very sad. At that time our family was expecting many good things to happen. Earlier in the year I received correspondence from a publishing house interested in publishing some of my novels. I had such great hope through out 2003 that it was time for the books to be in the marketplace.

For several years we had been considering a move to get away from the intercostal waterway so near our home. We had already gone through several bad hurricane seasons and forced evacuations. Pictures from the hardest hit areas were a constant reminder we needed to get to higher ground. I was content to be near the beach but I did not want to see the damage of flood waters should a big storm come in at high tide. I knew in my heart we needed to move.

One area of Jacksonville really caught my attention because it was the highest land on the north side of Jacksonville. I knew little of the history of the area but I felt a special desire to settle there. One house in particular had been on the market for almost 3 years. I diligently followed its progress along with several other possible homes. I earnestly prayed daily over such a big change. I even printed out real estate flyers of possible choices for our move.

A common theme I’d been following in the scriptures was the importance of inheritance – a word used more than 238 times throughout the Old and New Testaments. Land ownership was a great dream to the freed Hebrew slaves leaving Egypt under the leadership of Moses. Property ownership was a strategic plan for the settlement of the promised lands. This same concept held true for first settlers of America – the American dream which captured the hearts of millions struggling to come to our nation.

I wanted our family home to be a place that our children would want to own long after my husband and I were gone. I wanted property that would be a suitable inheritance through the future generations. No one in our family knew of my real estate brochures or about all of the scriptures I’d written on the back of one specific flyer. This was my prayer secret and it was folded and hidden in the pages of my Bible.

At the end of September, 2003, I drove over to the area I now had named ‘the house on the hill’. This time, my drive was abruptly disturbed when I realized the house had sold. I was crushed. My hopes for the move were over and I was in a state of grief. As I sat with my children on the evening of October 1^st, my tears began to fall as I read from Psalm 145…”The Lord is faithful to all His promises and loving toward all He has made…He opens His hand and satisfies the desires of every living thing.”[1]

I guess something in my voice caught the attention of my young son. He looked up from his toys and our eyes met. He stood up, came over to my chair and he took the Bible from my hands. He climbed up in my lap and he began to turn the pages till he found the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy. He leafed through the pages slowly. Suddenly he stopped. Then he began to read aloud the entire 6^th chapter. As he read, he began to weep. Once he was finished reading, his right hand began to feel up and down the page. This went on for a minute or two. By this time, he was also trembling and I could feel him shake as he sat in my lap. Then his hand stopped and he placed his fingers over two specific verses. He lifted the Bible in his other hand and said, “Mom, God told me that these verses were for you: God is going to give us houses we did not build filled with good things we did not provide and olive groves and VINE yards we did not plant.”

I looked down at the verses his fingers were marking and they were the very ones I had written down on the back of the house on the hill real estate flyer:

“When the Lord your God brings you into the land He swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give you – a land with large, flourishing cities you did not build, houses filled with all kinds of good things you did not provide, wells you did not dig, and vineyards and olive groves you did not plant – then, when you eat and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the Lord, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.”[2]

My son was only 8 years old. It was amazing that he was capable of finding the book of Deuteronomy on his own, let alone flip through the pages and then read aloud the entire 6^th chapter. As I watched his fingers feel of the page – much like a blind person would read a Braille script – and when he stopped and touched the verses I had been secretly reading out as prayers for so many months – I was completely astonished! My other kids recognized this moment and we all stopped and prayed, thanking Holy Spirit for speaking to us so personally and specifically.

Several days later, my son was in the shower when Holy Spirit spoke to him again, promising to heal our eyesight. At that time, I was the only person wearing contacts and glasses. My vision began to deteriorate when I was in 3^rd grade and by 4^th grade I was in need of strong glasses. As of this writing, all of us wear corrective lens or glasses.

2003 ended with no breakthrough for my books. 2004 raced by. April 30, 2004 our church held a conference celebrating the 440^th anniversary of the settlement of St. John’s Bluff by the French Huguenots. The Conference was entitled, “Blood Has A Voice”.

Oddly enough, the house on the hill was a few hundred yards from Fort Caroline and only a quarter of a mile down from the Ribault Monument which commemorated the first landing of the Huguenots in 1562 and in May of 1564. At that time, I knew nothing about the Huguenot settlement on the banks of the St. John’s River.

A tour of Fort Caroline National Park helped me see the significance of the French settlement. The Huguenots of 1564 represented a growing movement of religious refugees seeking a land where they could worship God free of government control. These reformers grasped the searing words of the ‘protest’ German priest Martin Luther in 1517 and his 95 Thesis nailed to the cathedral door in Wittenberg, Germany: The just shall live by faith.

It was this special revelation of God’s grace over man’s works that caused Martin Luther to challenge the ecclesia of his day. Martin Luther’s translations of the Latin Biblical texts into the vernacular of the people fueled this great Protestant Reformation. Salvation was not achieved through good works and deeds, nor was it purchased through indulgences being peddled by the church representatives from Rome. Luther’s translation of the book of Romans revealed this historic truth that salvation was only received by faith in the death and resurrection of Jesus as the Christ.[3]

As the conference commenced, I had the opportunity to meet most of the French visitors who had come so far to celebrate this historic anniversary. Over and over again, in their heavily accented broken English, the Huguenot descendents would ask me the same question, “Are you Huguenot too?”

My family was from East Tennessee and my husband’s family from South Carolina. It seemed possible that his family might have some distant ties with these early settlers but I was convinced that no one from the hills of East Tennessee could possibly have such historic roots.

The conference also featured a key note speaker who was a direct descendant of Pedro Mendez, the Spanish military leader who hunted down and massacred the Fort Caroline French inhabitants during the fall of 1564.

“Now Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let’s go out to the field”. And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him. Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

The Lord said, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand.”[4]

Anna Mendez Ferrell led several public ceremonies of identificational repentance, calling on the generations now present at the conference to forgive this grievous act of murder and appease the righteous, martyred blood spilled on the banks of the St. John’s River and the coast of what is now Jacksonville and St. Augustine.

Several weeks after the conference, I contacted my cousin, Dr. Regina Tullock. Regina’s family passion had always been genealogy. Regina was a professor at a community college near Knoxville, Tennessee. Her mother, Helen Lee Tullock (my father’s eldest sister) had made great in roads in seeking out our Lee family history. Many times dear Aunt Helen had shared her adventurous tales of cemetery crawls and courthouse record searches at our family reunions. Up until that point, I had never paid respectful attention to her work. Suddenly, my family history became a heartfelt passion as I shared the conference highlights with Regina and asked her the all important, burning question: Were we of Huguenot descent?

“We are Bodines,” Regina answered, and our family line is on the official Huguenot register. Then she began to explain the family ties and all of her findings. After our call, I embarked on a year long task of searching out and building my own family tree on a well known genealogy website. By late 2005 I had significant proof of Huguenot roots on both my mother and my father’s family lines.

It took all of that work to help me understand my original desires to live at the house on the hill in the first place. I know that at some point in our future, our vision will be restored and we will see the vine yards my son prophesied. Something deep in my bloodline was calling me back to the lands that represented the Gospel of Grace and the high price those early settlers were willing to pay to live by faith. The land over by Fort Caroline and the Ribault Monument was and still is very special.

“I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord; apart from You I have no good thing…Lord, You have assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.”[5]

[2] Deuteronomy 6:10-12; ibid, page 477.

[3] Romans 1:17, ibid, page 2862.

[4] Genesis 4:8-11; ibid, page 11.

[5] Psalm 16:2, 5-6; ibid, page 1383.

Never Forget Father’s Day

Posted: May 17, 2013 in Charisma - Spiritual Gifts - A Divine Gratuity, Never Forget Father's Day, The Super in my natural...
Tags: Divine healing, Father's Day, supernatural, theology

Never Forget Father’s Day

By Amy Hartmann

I heard a true story where a greeting card campaign was initiated at a local men’s prison. The prisoners were encouraged to send their mothers a Mother’s Day card. Cards were made available, with the requests and the response by the incarcerated overwhelming the prison staff. One month later, that same initiative was then offered again, this time for Father’s Day. Much to everyone’s surprise, there was little or no demand for this event.

As a young child, I took to my father and his lap more times then not over my Mom. My older sister was born very prematurely and her fragile life captivated my mother’s time considerably. When I was born 2 years later, I arrived with a severe congenital heart defect. At that time, operations on small babies rarely occurred and all the doctors could do was encourage my parents to keep a watchful eye on me until I was strong enough to endure this procedure. I guess it was my father’s job to focus on me since my mother was so busy with my sister. Somewhere along the way an intense bond with my father developed in me. I became a certified ‘Daddy’s girl’.

By the age of 4, at the minimum weight of 30 pounds, I was finally strong enough for open heart surgery. 1964 surgical practices were so far removed from the amazing things surgeons accomplish today. I remember waking up late in the evening a day after the surgery. It was raining outside and the thunder caught my attention. I looked across the room and there sat my father, silently watching me, waiting for me to wake up.

In the fall of 1978, I went off to college. My father made the 3 hour drive to Lebanon, Tennessee to deposit me and my simple possessions in the dorm room at Cumberland College. I was there on a music scholarship and I wanted to study medicine.

That fall, I frequently received simple index cards in the mail. When the plain white envelope arrived, I would be so excited – they were notes from my Dad and sometimes he threw in a little cash. He was a mail carrier and I think the most he ever made salary wise was about $13,000 a year (I made that salary at my first job in 1982). Cash from Dad was appreciated but his cards were precious. I still have them.

The week of December 4^th, 1978 I had a dream. I dreamed I was in our basement at our home in Chattanooga, TN. I was watching my father. He fell to his knees and then his face went to the floor. My mother appeared beside him. Then he died. When I awoke from that dream, I was hysterical. I had just watched my father die.

There was no consoling me so my dorm mates helped me get up enough change to make the pay phone call. It was early morning and my parents were asleep. Once they answered my call, they began the arduous task of reassuring me that my Dad was ok, that it all was just a bad dream. They reminded me that they would see me the coming weekend for the choir Christmas event, Dinner at Cumberland. Our choir would be hosting a ticketed banquet attended by the governor of the state and many other Nashville dignitaries. My parents were making the drive to see me perform in this regale.

That weekend was the last time I saw my father. My parents made the 3 hour drive to Lebanon, and then they turned around and drove back home once the dinner show was over. The last thing my father did was hug me, tell me to crack the books and press into my hand twenty dollars.

On December 14^th, 1978 at 11:00 a.m. the coal furnace at our home ran out of fuel. The basement filled up with smoke. Dad knew that the best thing to do was to go quickly down to the coal bin and open a window. He knew not to stay in that smoke and shovel coal. That day, though, he made the wrong decision. While shoveling coal into the hopper, he was overcome by the fumes. He fell to his knees as he tried to get his breathing to calm back down. At that moment, he suffered a massive heart attack.

My mother knew the basement was dangerous when the hopper was empty and she always fussed at my Dad to be careful. She also would listen for him to go down and open the windows and then come back up. That morning she was at her task…she was alert. She heard him shoveling…then she heard him stop. When he didn’t respond to her calls from the stairs, she ran down to check on him. She found him on his knees. She ran back up stairs and phoned the police but this was 1978 and 911 calls were not part of the emergency response systems of that day. Help finally came but it was too late.

That morning, my choir director sent word for me to come to his office. I had just finished up my first semester Chemistry exam and I had gone back to my room for a nap. My roommate woke me up and hurried me to Dr. Coble’s on campus house. There, Dr. Coble shared the news that my father was gone and that someone was coming to pick me up and take me back home. I felt dead inside as I walked back to my room. There were no tears yet…I just felt dead and all I could think about was my dream.

Hours later, when I arrived at my family home and walked into the living room, my mother looked up from her weeping. She was sitting in my father’s chair and she was a mess. All she could say to me was, “You knew…”.

For the next nine years of my life, I was mad at God. I ran away from Him and everything my parents had tried to instill me. I ran with the boys; I partied and sought solace from alcohol and marijuana. I sampled the wares of the independent pharmaceutical distributors…I wanted to be high and just forget.

Oddly enough, God began to do something really amazing on my behalf. He brought me to Atlanta and to the computer software company that would embrace me and raise me up to travel the world and facilitate multi-million dollar computer software systems implementations. I excelled, especially with the hard to please accounts that refused payment because of outstanding problems. Favor opened doors and brought incredible results on my projects. God let me take all the credit.

In 1988 I was sent to Acton, England to facilitate software installations with Elizabeth Arden staff. I had just finished a very successful implementation with Faberge, International. Faberge purchased Elizabeth Arden and we began to bring Arden aboard the Faberge systems. The project spanned their entire international business which included France, Italy and most of Europe. It was the largest software acquisition I helped facilitate. This was the era of businesses embracing computers for the first time. Paper processes were giving way to the dinosaur mainframe software systems. Languages had to bridged, currencies had to be converted, financial transactions had to be right on – it was mammoth. It was also an exciting time to be in the corporate world of business.

While I was living in Ealing Broadway, a friend at work invited me to attend an Anglican church service. I had not graced the doors of a church since 1979 or 1980. At that little church I witnessed the outpouring of Holy Spirit in worship. People were lifting their hands in praise. Dancers in flowing costumes twirled around up by the altar. I thought they were crazy but I felt their fire. I began to weep.

Over the next year, when I was in town in Atlanta, I began attending church at Mt. Paran Church of God. Mylon LeFevre and his band, Broken Heart were based out of the church and my sister had given me some of their tapes. It was my first introduction to Christian rock music. Again, I felt the fire.

My work took me from England to New England and other very successful projects. Through that season, God met me personally with His presence as I traveled, worked and made time for Him. I got involved with a homeless ministry through Metro Bible Study; which utilized Mt. Paran’s facilities every Tuesday night. When I was in town, I was at Metro and on Friday nights, down on the streets of Atlanta with Dad Ellis and his bunch of radical lovers of the most hurting. It was there I met my husband.

Fast forward to February 2004. My husband and I were now in Jacksonville, Florida. It was the season of raising kids, getting them through school; being involved with church activities and the busyness of life. That February a mass developed in my right breast. It grew very quickly…I was with the surgeons and the radiologists. I was very frightened. I was scheduled for a biopsy and final review for surgical removal in early August.

By June the mass was the size of a plum and its constant presence haunted me. Very few people knew of my plight. I would not even tell my husband, I knew his faith was too fragile to handle such a challenge. I knew my kids would be terrified so I did what I thought was best and kept it between me, the doctors and my close faith girlfriends. Father’s Day, June 20^th arrived. We were at church both services. That evening our Pastor, Paul Zink, made an unusual altar call: he said for everyone who was weary to come up for prayer. The whole congregation mobbed the altar, including me. At that moment, I was not thinking about the mass or my condition, I was just weary. There were so many people up for this prayer that the ushers lined everyone up all over the large sanctuary.

I was herded to the front platform and told to go stand on the stage with many others…it was just the placement of the moment. I stood and waited for Pastor Zink to get to me. He had hundreds of people to pray for so he just went down the rows, touching people’s heads. He was in a hurry. When he got to me, he stopped and began to laugh. He took his index finger and poked me in the stomach, and laughing he declared, “Released!” and then he kept on going. I, however, flew back like he had punched me out. I went down on my back and lay on the floor of the platform for at least twenty minutes. I felt like a giant hot heating pad was on top of me and I was burning! When this pressure sensation finally lifted, I sat up. I knew better than to try and stand up so I started to crawl away from all the other people laid out on the floor. As I began to crawl, I head Holy Spirit whisper, “Check yourself, the mass is gone.”

The platform of a huge church sanctuary is not the place to give yourself a breast check. I crawled over to where our Pastor’s wife was sitting to get out of the way and get to the edge of the stage. Pastor Sharon looked at me and asked what had happened. I told her what I thought Holy Spirit had said.

“Go to the Ready Room and check,” she advised.

I did and the best I could tell, it was gone but I was not ‘sure’ and I was still frightened. A month and a half later I was back with the surgeons and radiologists. It was my turn for biopsy and final diagnosis. Over and over they checked me out; they even sent me back to the waiting area while they changed out the lens on the mammogram machine. “It’s a $12,000 piece,” the operating radiologist advised as she rechecked me over again.

Finally the surgeon took me to the sonogram room. She had made the original videos, herself back in May. She knew where the mass was supposed to be and she was confused. After an intense examination, in her frustration, she finally turned to me and said, “Where is your mass? I just can’t find anything.”

Tears came to my eyes. “God took it,” I whispered. She shook her head and gave me orders for a recheck in 3 months.

That moment, Father’s Day, June 20^th, 2004 wrecked me for the ordinary. God had my full attention and I was going to run after Him with all my heart, my mind, my soul and my strength.

Fast forward again to Father’s Day, June 21, 2009 – at this point, I am dealing with other health problems. I was born with the heart defect that the surgeons corrected in 1964 but I was also born with scoliosis. By my early 20s I was constantly needing chiropractic care to readjust my frame. My right leg was over an inch shorter than my left leg. I managed to stay active and busy all through my 20s and early 30s but once I began having children, my skeletal frame began to groan with the impact of heavy babies and childbirth. In 2007 after years of intense pain in my right ankle, my right knee and in my pelvis, my doctor finally sat me down and measured my leg lengths. He showed me the real source of my angst. He was a sports therapist to many well know athletes and he marveled at my tolerance of the pain. I told him he had never given birth before so of course, it was hard for him to comprehend.

My family physician also was a skeletal specialist and he measured my bones, showing me that my right femur was the main culprit. It was over an inch shorter than my left femur. He wrote me a prescription for built up shoes and he advised me that most women with my condition were too vain to wear the shoes, suffering for fashion over practicality. At that stage in my life, pain was the great equalizer and all I wanted was relief. I was fitted for the shoes, which my grandmother declared to be the ugliest she had ever seen. One pair in particular was my every day pair and the easiest to walk in. Those shoes started to wear out and I needed another pair. The cost was going to be over $300 and family funds for such a purchase were just not available, so I began to pray for shoe funds.

Father’s Day, June 2nd, 2009 we went to both services as usual. That night we were sitting about 4 rows back from the front. I was sitting on the end of the row. Just before the service began, I watched a dreadlocked coiffed young man walk down the aisle just past me. He approached the pastors and was immediately greeted. Others came forward to give him a hug. I felt compelled to do the same and he hugged us all with great enthusiasm. One of the staff pastors introduced him as Todd White, guest speaker from the Power and Love Conferences which were being hosted all over the US. Todd was quickly given the stage and in his west coast home-boy attire, with pants hanging real low and dreadlocks swinging, he began to energetically share his testimony of being a crack-cocaine addict by the time he was 12. He shared how he grew up running with the gangs, always in trouble and constantly being arrested for possession of illegal substances.

Once his testimony was finished, he called for everyone to come forward who had one leg shorter than the other or serious spine problems, especially scoliosis. My kids looked at me and said, “Mom, that’s you – go up!”

Curious, I went forward and was shown a seat on the front along with 30-40 other people – young, old, many ethnicities, male, female – an interesting slice of life. One by one, Todd knelt in front of each one of us and he prayed. He had all the little kids come up and crowd around him as he did so. When he got to me, he took my feet in their built up, worn out shoes and he immediately saw my condition. He smiled real big and then he prayed. At that moment, fire hit my upper femur and I felt like I had hot lava flowing in my bones. In utter amazement I watched my right upper leg grow out in front of my eyes. Just as I watched my father die in my dream, now I was watching my own leg grow.

I had on jeans that night and the image of my right knee stretching forward as it grew is forever burned in my mind. At that moment I was totally wrecked by the love of Jesus and His finished work on the cross of Calvary. It was His suffering that paid for my healing. I felt His love and in my heart I heard someone singing, “Yes, Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so.” At that crucial moment, God downloaded a new revelation for His love and His power. He also told me that the real source of my fire was a truth spelled out in the New Testament book of Colossians: He said, “Christ is in you and He is your hope of glory.”

That night I had to walk home barefooted. My worn-out built up shoes were no longer needed. I was free from scoliosis as well. My doctors examined me and one even came back with me to give a video testimony of his medical opinion of my prior condition and then my healing. That specific doctor was a hardened Italian from New York. My healing wrecked his heart just as much as it did mine. It brought tears to his eyes too.

The interesting thing about that evening is that God did not magic-wand me. He grew my leg but it took many months for my right ankle, my right knee and my pelvis to recover. Four months after my healing I was able to start exercising again. I’ve been faithful to continue my commitment to staying in good shape so that I won’t waste the Divine grace that touched my life. I’m back down to the weight I used to be before I had kids and my level of strength and endurance now is much greater than any other time in my life, that I can recall.

I’ve often thought about what it is in our lives that attracts the Divine presence like that. All I can figure is that God sits outside of time and He looks at our life much like the ‘timeline’ concept of a popular social network. He sees our end from our beginning. He looked forward, down my timeline, to place were I am now and to the heart that I have for Him and His people. He looked into my future and saw my praise and humble thanksgiving for His touch. I guess that foreknowledge enabled His Divine patience when I was wasting my life on alcohol, drugs and people who really had no respect for me as woman and a person.

Since 2004, I eagerly await Father’s Day. I don’t expect God to fix something in me every year in that same way, but I see the subtle things He mends, such as my hurting heart and emotions. I see Him reach out, through me, to touch those who are hurting and infirm. Hugging and loving on the people He puts in my sphere of influence is my heart’s desire because I know the secret: deep down inside, it is Christ in me, the hope of glory.[1]

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Tested by the Praise

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Never Forget Father’s Day

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