Not A Matter of Talk

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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

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.

Aside — 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

The Secrets of the Heart

Posted: August 23, 2013 in The Secrets of the Heart, The Super in my natural..., The Virginia Real
Tags: charisma, hope, Spiritual gifts, supernatural

August 14, 2013

Shall God not search this out? For He knows the secrets of the heart.[1]

Keeping a secret can be one of the hardest self disciplines to master when you’re young and beginning to develop real friendships. Secrets make or break every relationship we undertake. Understanding the emotions behind the events that generate these surreptitious times will help reveal the power of the bond of secrecy. Sometimes, though, God steps in and lays bare our most guarded issue. Our own fear or even pride can keep us prisoner to problems. Without the help of others, we would not be able to rise above the circumstances to which we are bound.

Years ago I was sitting in an evening choir practice. I was part of a talented and dedicated group of people involved in the worship ministry at our church. Every Thursday evening we gathered for practice. I participated in this weekly gathering for 11 years before we moved out of state to our current home. I always enjoyed getting away from family chores to be with my musical friends. Our times together of learning and harmony were passionate, intense and sometimes very funny. We were a choir family.

The day of this retelling was a cold day in February. My many responsibilities made me late leaving home for practice. When I arrived in the choir room I was not able to sit in my usual seat. It is a common group dynamic when people tend to be repetitive about such routine things as sitting in the same seat for regular scheduled activities. In this situation, I was such a creature of habit. I also dislike being late to any event. That particular evening my normal peace of mind was slightly disturbed because of my tardiness.

I took a seat on the row behind my usual place, picked up the music and joined in the song. Several minutes passed before our director stopped the song and began concentrating his attention on the tenor section to go over parts. One of the foundational choir rules required the rest of us to be respectful and make as little noise as possible during a sectional rehearsal. I sat there for a few minutes, just gathering my thoughts, and I looked over at my friend sitting on my left. She seemed deep in thought. Normally she was very personable and cheerful but this night she seemed lost in her own musings.

The sectional rehearsal dragged on and I began to look around again, just to take notice of all the friends present, when suddenly I had the following thought: “She has no gas in her car.”

I sat still for a few more minutes, turning this information over and over in my mind. A sense of urgency accompanied the thought and when the director turned his attention to another section for review, I began to be uneasy. Feeling insecure about such a message, I finally nudged my friend and cautiously whispered, “You have no gas in your car, do you?’

For a good 20 or 30 seconds, my friend looked at me like I had slapped her in the face. I was upset with myself for saying such a crazy thing to her, when her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head “no”.

My personal finances were not spectacular at that moment either but I knew that I had to get her a tank of gas. “When we leave practice,” I whispered, “we’ll go straight to a gas station and take care of it.”

My friend hurriedly wiped away a tear and smiled in gratitude. I knew she was in the middle of a marriage breakdown. I slid my arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. When I hugged her, this thought came: “She has no food at home either.”

Sobered by this daunting notion, I knew I could not whisper such a thing, so I took out a piece of paper and quickly scribbled a note: “You have no food at home either, do you?’

This time, her expression changed from the timid smile she had just given me to a broken, puzzled look. Once again tears formed and she shook her head “no”.

My own relationship with my spouse was under great duress. Our finances were severely challenged. My husband was working out of town on his new job and our family was still in Jacksonville awaiting the sale of our home so we could move and join him. He was the official family book keeper. This night, I knew that I was probably going to get a lecture for my actions but I could not let my friend’s needs go unanswered.

“We’re going to the grocery store after practice,” I scribbled back to her. Then I dug in my purse and found a tissue. She wiped her tears and gave me a quick hug back.

As practice wrapped up, I had another revelation: “She is not going to tell you what she really needs.” Then, a list of items began to flow through my mind. I knew she needed pet food and many other personal things. We walked out of practice and made a plan to meet at the nearest store and gas station. As I drove the few miles to the shopping center, her list kept getting longer and her needs more detailed and specific.

We both got shopping carts when we arrived at the grocery store. I had my own grocery needs too. As we started down the first aisle, my friend said, “I only need bread, eggs and milk.”

At this moment, the power of the impressions I was receiving was beginning to give me a great sense of awe and wonder. I knew Holy Spirit was looking at her needs and speaking directly to me about satisfying them. I chuckled and stopped my friend, taking her hand into mine and getting her full attention: “You need these things,” I said, as I began to describe all the items that had gone through my mind. “Are you going to tell me what you really need or are you going to make me do this entirely by the Spirit?” I was joyful by this time and totally in awe of the moment. My list was so specific she finally blushed and shook her head in amazement too.

“This is unbelievable,” she declared as we walked up and down the aisles, and I put things in her cart. We stopped at the pet food aisle and I asked her what kind of food her pets liked. She started to pick up the cheapest food available. I knew her cat and dog would not eat her choices. “They’re not going to like that kind,” I told her. Finally she started to laugh, catching the joy of the Lord that was being offered to us both.

We turned down the seasonal items aisle and I stopped in front of some boxed valentines for kids. “Your daughter needs these for school tomorrow doesn’t she?” I asked.

My friend finally looked at me again and shook her head. “What is your husband going to say?” she asked. She knew how picky he was over finances.

At that moment, a strange message came out of my mouth; one which has burned in my heart over these past years since we left Jacksonville: “I’m sowing for my future,” I replied.

We finished our shopping and then we went to the gas station. My friend hugged me repeatedly. We both marveled over the gift of supernatural knowledge Holy Spirit released in this moment – knowledge which deeply impacted both of our lives.

Many people don’t really understand the concept of spiritual gifts, like I operated in the evening I received such a critical message. First of all, the most important gift God ever gave was Jesus.[2] Jesus explained, “When the Helper (Holy Spirit) comes, whom I will send to you, from the Father (that is the Spirit of Truth – who proceeds from the Father), He will testify about Me.”[3]

The apostle Paul explained that as we become ‘in Christ’ (part of Christ’s spiritual body, His kingdom of believers) we become partakers of heavenly gifts that reveal the presence and power of Jesus in our everyday life. Jesus has acquired the right to give these gifts based upon His supernatural conception, His sinless life, His death and His resurrection.

“But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ’s gift. Therefore it says, When He ascended on high, He led captive a host of captives, and HE gave gifts to men.”[4]

Paul uses the word doma [Strong’s Greek #1390 – gift, present; from the base of 1325; to give, to greatly modify by the connection, adventure, bring forth, grant, have power, etc.][5] My gift of knowledge certainly did generate quite an adventure that night.

Paul says that these gifts are irrevocably given to us.[6] Once we are endowed with these gifts, God does not take them back. If we ignore, neglect or misuse them, we will be accountable.[7]

Talents, in the parables Jesus shared through out His ministry time, always represent elevated abilities or something given which enabled the receivers to invest or accomplish work, with an expected return. The gospel writer, Matthew, is the only one to use this Greek word talanton and it means a balance of certain weight, or a specific sum of money.[8]

Gifts, on the other hand, represent (but are not limited to) the supernatural abilities that Jesus modeled during His physical time on earth. He declared that we would do greater works than He preformed.[9]

Paul used the word charisma when describing the irrevocable gifts in the book of Romans. [Strong’s Greek #5486 charisma (khar-is-mah); means “a divine gratituity, deliverance from danger or harmful passions, spiritual endowment, religious qualification, miraculous faculty – free gift.”][10] The 12^th Chapter of Romans provides the following list:

Prophecy (prophetic insight, the gift of interpreting the divine will and purpose)[11]
Practical service through ministry
Teaching
Exhortation (encouraging words that build our faith)
Contributing to the needs of others, giving generously
Leadership for governing diligently
Showing mercy cheerfully

Paul starts out with pneumatikos when introducing the gifts in his first letter to the Corinthians. [Strong’s Greek #4152 pneumatikos (pnyoo-mat-ik-os); means non-carnal (not human), ethereal, (divinely) supernatural…][12] He goes back to charisma several sentences later as he develops this most interesting topic and he explains, “But to each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”[13] I believe my friend would agree that our shopping experience that night in February was for common good.

The 12^th Chapter of First Corinthians gives this insight: “Now there are varieties of gifts (charisma)…but the same God who works all things in all persons.” The spiritual gifts listed here include:[14]

Word of wisdom
Word of knowledge
Faith
Gifts of healing
Workings of miracles
Prophecy
Discernment or distinguishing of spirits (evil and good)
Various kinds of tongues (speaking an unlearned or unknown language)
Interpretation of these tongues (languages)
The office or role of apostleship
The office or role of a prophet
The office or role of a teacher
Helps (serving the physical needs of people)
Administration

It is interesting how Paul then goes on to give the analogy of the human body and how it has many different members but each member really belongs to all of the body and how uniquely the body needs each member. “If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it, if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.”[15]

That February night, my friend was suffering and she needed more than a congenial pat on the back – she needed real help. “What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If any one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well, keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead!”[16]

Paul then gives this advice: “Eagerly pursue and seek to acquire (this) love (make it your aim, your great quest); and earnestly desire and cultivate the spiritual endowments (gifts), especially that you may prophecy (interpret the divine will and purpose in inspired preaching and teaching).[17]

On that cold February night, God used His words of knowledge, enabling me to help my friend. What I didn’t know, as I handed her the valentines, is that I would walk a very similar path in September of 2012. My marriage broke down; my husband left to go do his own thing. Numerous times my children and I experienced these same needs. I have been out of the job market for 20 years, primarily being a wife, mother, writer and laboring as a volunteer. Going right back into the work force has been no simple task. I had to open up and share my secret hurt and needs with others to get through this tough time; and indeed, on that February night, I was “sowing for my future”.

I feel confident that everyone who has comforted me in my brokenness will one day reap the same supernatural favor I’ve experienced. “For the word of God is living and active; sharper than any double edged sword. It penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit; joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and the attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.”[18]

Texts and Books I’ve read on this subject:

Growing in the Prophetic, by Mike Bickle

Surprised by the Power of the Spirit, by Jack Deere

The Beginner’s Guide to Spiritual Gifts, by Sam Storms

The Finger of God, by Mark Rutland

When the Spirit Comes with Power, by John White

Your Spiritual Gifts, by C. Peter Wagner

You May All Prophesy, by Steve Thompson

Romans Chapter 12

I Corinthians Chapters 7, 12-14

Ephesians Chapters 3 & 4

I Peter Chapter 4

[2] Matthew 7:11, Luke 11:13, John 4;10, Romans 5:15-21, Romans 6:23, Romans 11:29, Ephesians 2:8-22,

[4] Ephesians 4:1-13; ibid, pages 3005-3007.

[6] Romans 11:29; ibid, page 2893.

[7] I Timothy 4:14, II Timothy 1:6; ibid pages

[9] John 14:11-14; ibid, page 2743.

[12] Pneumatikos; “Strong’s Greek Number 4152; The New Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible”; ibid; page 72.

[14] I Corinthians 12:1-31; ibid.

[15] I Corinthians 12:26; ibid.

[16] James 2:14-17; ibid, pages 3123-3125.

[17] I Corinthians 14:1; ibid, page 2939.

[18] Hebrews 4:12-13; ibid, page 3093.

Fresh Bread for His Table

Posted: July 16, 2013 in The Feasts - God's Parties, The Super in my natural...
Tags: bread cycle, spirituality, theology

By Amy Hartmann

July 15, 2013

The month was September – early fall – but in northeast Florida, that meant it was still very hot outside. The year was 2009 and the day was Friday, the 18^th. Rosh Hashanah was beginning at sundown and I was hurrying to get many tasks done for the afternoon. One key task was to make fresh challah bread for the 24 hour prayer gathering commencing at our church that evening. The idea of making fresh bread had been on my mind for several weeks and I pondered the timing amid all of my responsibilities. My kids had doctor’s appointments that week; my daughter had art class and everyone was busy with school and work. I had already planned to join the service around midnight but I knew the bread needed to be there before the service began.

The average bread cycle time is almost 4 hours from start to finish. Finding such a block of time on a busy Friday was my chief concern as I started my task. The bread had to be ready and cool enough to handle. The drive from my house to church could take 20 or 30 minutes depending upon traffic. I still had other chores to do once it was finished and delivered.

My mother-in-law taught me how to make fresh bread many years earlier. Her breads were always eagerly received where ever she shared them. After I finally mastered all the intricacies of bread production, I began to share bread when the opportunity arose.

Grasping the nature of rising dough took me quite a while to work through, since there is no such thing as a fixed recipe. Flour seems to disappear endlessly in the mixing mass until the dough ball reaches a certain shape and consistency. Recognizing that moment in preparation is crucial. Bread dough then takes on a life of its own as it sits and rises. So many factors influence whether it does so successfully or whether it turns out sticky in the middle and not so appetizing. Thunderstorms gather quickly in Northeast Florida and such a change in atmospheric pressure has a great effect on successfully rising bread. I learned that lesson the hard way – numerous times – as I started bread for some event only to see it fall flat.

I am not Jewish by birth; however, I do accept that I am grafted into the cultivated olive tree scripture metaphorically refers to as Israel and the Hebrew people. My place, in Christ makes me joint heir with Him and all that His personal sacrifice ensured. He is Jewish and I am adopted into His family by God. Scripture describes my origins as ‘a wild olive shoot’ and in some respects that was an apt description of my life during my college years.[1]

The concept of bringing fresh bread before God as an act of worship goes back to the Old Testament book of Exodus. When the Israelites came out of their Egyptian bondage and met with God at Mt. Sinai, Moses received the downloads that enabled him to layout the design for a portable Tabernacle or Tent of Meeting which was to be erected in the center of the camp of the Israelites. This special grouping of tents and hanging tapestries was to stay in the center of the camp as the Israelites journeyed through the wilderness on their way to the land God had promised to give Abraham, their forefather. Mount Sinai (located today in the south central part of a peninsula in the north-western end of Arabia) carries the name, Jebel Musa (the mount of Moses).[2]

The apostle Paul explains: “A tabernacle was set up. In its first room were the lamp stand, the table and the consecrated bread…”[3] The Holman Bible Dictionary has two interesting references to the holy bread:

“BREAD OF THE PRESENCE (bread of the faces) – In Exodus 25:30, the Lord’s instructions concerning the paraphernalia of worship include a provision that bread be kept always on a table set before the Holy of Holies. This bread was called the bread of presence or shewbread. The literal meaning of the Hebrew expression is “bread of the faces”. It consisted of twelve loaves of presumably unleavened bread and it was replaced each Sabbath…”[4]

“SHEWBREAD – a sacred loaf made probably of barley or wheat which was set before the Lord as a continual sacrifice (Exodus 25:30). The old bread was then eaten by the priests (Leviticus 24:5-9).”[5]

The first reference to bread in scripture is found in Genesis. God tells Adam and Eve (because of their sin of disobedience in eating from the forbidden Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil), as He casts them out of the Garden of Eden, where all their needs were continually provided for, “…in the sweat of your face shall you eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you shall return.[6]”

Here, bread represented the work Adam and the rest of mankind would have to take up in order to have food, but especially bread, since God calls it by name. Other scriptural symbolic uses of bread:

Hospitality – Genesis 19:3
The manifest presence of God – His face – Exodus 25:30
A grain offering – Leviticus 2:4-10
A lasting covenant reminder – Leviticus 24:1-9
Bread for the priests – Leviticus 24:9
An enemy to be consumed – Numbers 14:9
Unity of a group – I Kings 18:19
Wickedness – Proverbs 4:17
Wisdom – Proverbs 9:5
Idleness – Proverbs 31:27
Adversity – Isaiah 30:20

In the New Testament, Jesus took all of these understandings into account when He begins to share His perspective on bread. Teaching by the Sea of Galilee, He looks up and sees a huge multitude of people coming to hear His words. He asks His disciples a very pointed question: “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?”[7]

One of His disciples brings the lunch of a small boy…five small barley loaves and two small fish, “…but how far will they go among so many?” Andrew asks.

Jesus takes the loaves and the fish, and giving thanks to God for them, He begins to break them into pieces, so much that the text records 5,000 men had plenty to eat. The next day crowds again search out this miracle man, intending to make Him king by force. Jesus tells them, “You are looking for me because you ate your fill…don’t work for food that spoils…but for food that endures eternally.”

The crowd challenged Him with the concept of God providing the manna for the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness thousands of years earlier. Jesus then makes one of His most controversial declarations, “I AM the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna [angel bread] in the desert, yet they died. But here is the Bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world….He who comes to Me will never go hungry…”[8]

The crowds, especially the Jews, began to argue sharply. “This is a difficult statement: who can listen to it?” Many turned away and no longer followed Him.[9]

Just before His betrayal and arrest, Jesus shares His unique perspective on bread one more time – this time during the Feast of Unleavened Bread when the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. At this feast table He answers the controversial questions posed by the earlier crowd by modeling the first communion service. He takes the feast bread, He breaks it into pieces and shares it with His disciples, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.”[10]

The rest of my story is hard to explain. I finished making the challah bread. Fortunately the weather cooperated and the bread baked up beautifully. The afternoon was gone and rush hour traffic was fully underway. I had to take the bread to the church chapel and then I had to go to the grocery story; hurry back home and make dinner. My oldest son was still in his learner’s permit driving stage and he eagerly accepted any driving assignments I offered, so I let him drive me to the church. I held the warm bread in my lap the entire trip, smelling its sweet aroma. The car was filled with the smell and our stomachs growled in appreciation.

We parked and hurried to the chapel. No one was there yet, the lights were out and the room was cool. Everything was set up for the service, with several tables positioned up front and these were covered with white table cloths. We hurried up to the front and I stood for several seconds, pondering the right place to leave the bread. Tired and distracted as I was in that moment, it never occurred to me the holiness of my act. God’s ways are not our ways and His thoughts not ours, Isaiah tells us in his writings.

“Seek the Lord while He may be found. Call upon Him while He is near…For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord.[11]

At the moment I finally set the bread on the table, something very strange happened. My son was at my side as my hands left the edges of the bread pan. Suddenly a burst of energy – like an explosion off a small firecracker – cracked upon my hands and just above the bread – it felt like a miniature lightening bolt going off right in front of our faces. It scared both of us so much we jumped back and we both yelped with fear.

“What was that?” my son cried out.

By that time I was trembling and weeping and still very frightened. I had never imagined that God – Himself – would really appreciate my labor of love. I heard in my heart at that exact moment these words: “No one has made Me fresh bread in a long time.”

Unsettled, we both hurried to get out of the chapel. I was too shaken to drive. We still had to go to the grocery store and I had to continue to wipe away tears as we did our shopping. Even now, as I write these words, that same trembling comes back over me and I am weeping. Someone who survives being struck by lightening never forgets the energy and raw power behind their experience. Neither will I.

[5] Shewbread; “The Holman Bible Dictionary,”; copyright page 1265.

[9] Ibid.

To Will and To Work

Posted: June 21, 2013 in To Will and To Work

I have a re-occurring dream which visits me in the night watch. I am at play practice and it is almost time for my lines. I have no script. I feel the lines should already be in my heart but remembering them eludes me. I ask for a script and begin hurriedly scanning the pages, looking for my parts. The pages remain unrecognizable and I awake.

In many respects, life can seem like a theatrical production with each act representing the many phases of life we pass through, beginning with birth. This concept is found throughout literature, going back to Greek writings, but really coming into populace thinking as far back as the 12th century. In 1511, Renaissance humanist writer Erasmus expressed the rhetorical question, “For what else is the life of man but a kind of play in which men in various costumes perform until the director motions them off stage?”[1]

William Shakespeare presented this same concept in several of his plays. In The Merchant of Venice, Antonio morosely declares, “I hold the world but as the world…a stage where every man must play a part, and mine a sad one.”[2]

I began to grasp the understanding that life really does have a script in early 1989 when I first began to recognize some of my kairos moments. I was sitting at my hallway desk at the Elizabeth Arden production plant in Acton, England. I was onsite at Arden working as a software implementation consultant and I was helping facilitate the implementation of ASI’s many products. The project was massive, spanning most of Europe and the entire international Arden business. This was 1989, before the Euro; every country had its own currency and exchange rates fluctuated hourly. Currencies had to be converted and each financial transaction properly processed. I was staring at a printout of the transaction codes being fed with each line item into General Ledger. Everything had to be perfect. It was heady stuff.

The cold winter air was ripe with a recent production run of the famous Lagerfeld cologne. A small dose of this scent on the right guy, would be most welcome. However, thousands of bottles of Lagerfeld tooling off the production line made the most sympathetic olfactory receptacles scream with overload! At this moment in life, my olfactory reception was complete and I had a headache.

I happened to look up at a devotional page I had taped to the wall above my desk. I had many papers taped to this space simply to cover up the aged, cracked mint green plaster and to provide a bit of cheer to this drab little hallway. Business cards, postcards from friends, phone numbers, international calling codes, etc. lined this small personal space. The verse attached to the devotional finally got my attention: “You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing.”[3]

Just the night before I had puzzled over another passage: “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.”[4]

My thoughts wandered back to the day in 1982 when I had my first interview with ASI. That day was rainy too, and I had just finished up my last day of employment with a downtown car dealership where I processed fleet leasing paperwork. My biggest account was Rollins. John Willis, the Account Manager at Rollins convinced me to consider talking with his wife. Connie Willis was the office manager at ASI. My work and cheerful outlook had brought me to his attention. He recognized I was bright and very capable. I found favor in his sight.

Since it was my last day, I had taken no lunch in order to finish out all of my paperwork. I was given my last paycheck but there was no time to go to the bank. Traffic leaving downtown Atlanta was heavy and my little grey Chevette’s gas tank was running on fumes. Piedmont Road had no gas stations through that part of town. I had no cash until I could get to the bank. As traffic inched past Piedmont Park, I muttered a basic plea for the gas to hold out. At that time in my life, my attention was not on God or His place and purpose for my life. I was living strictly for myself and my own pleasures.

Traffic backed up again and my car’s engine began to sputter. The rain picked up and soon it was coming down very heavily. As I drove parallel to the Rollins main office building on Piedmont Road, the car engine sputtered one more time and then it died. I managed to get the car into the center turning lane just before it stopped completely.

Panic gripped my heart. I was on my way to the ASI interview and I had no job to fall back on. My watch showed 6:15. I was supposed to be in Buckhead by 6:30. Now the rain was coming down in torrents and I had no umbrella. I tried, over and over to start the car, but I knew it was out of gas. I sat there for a few minutes, hoping the rain would lighten up but it didn’t. There was only one thought that kept coming to me: “Go see if Mr. Willis is still at Rollins.”

I opened the car door and stepped out into the heavy rain. Car horns blared on both sides of the busy, four-lane road. I managed to get across the road but the rain was so heavy I could not run without slipping. Fearing a fall, I hurried up the drive way to the security gate. The guard quickly met me and offered the use of the guard shack phone. He even called and found Mr. Willis still in his office at Rollins. This fact I still find amazing.

By the time John got down to the guard shack, I was thoroughly soaked and in tears. I had no cash for gas. I had tried to start the car so many times the carburetor had to be primed when John got gas for the car. Of course I was soaked and in no shape to go to the biggest interview of my life.

Such are the elements of kairos moments. This Greek word uniquely captures these fixed, incredible, often chaotic and messy occasions. Kairos defines these opportunities as ‘convenient or inconvenient’.[5] Kairos implies that the moment is rare, fixed, of short duration and it can occur as a suddenly. Behind the broad meaning of the word is the understanding that kairos captures ‘a set appointed, proper time‘; a time that has been ordered up based upon a plan. In comparison to kairos is another Greek word, chronos – which speaks of an interval of time or a season; and it is chronos that drives the clocks and watches of life.[6]

Back at my Arden hallway desk, with my head throbbing from the rank smell of too much cologne, I suddenly understood it was a divine thing to have the right desires planted deep within my heart AND even more supreme to see them come to pass.

“In all things He is working for my good,” the apostle Paul wrote to the people in Rome – and eventually to all of us.[7] Some translations imply that “all things work together” but that is not how the Greek text reads. Paul made sure to use the preposition “eis” and through that simple word to declare that God was not responsible for all the bad things going on in life – BUT – in the space of time and set of circumstances, God was working even the bad things out for our good.[8]

Following the Biblical script of the life of Jesus, I’ve often contemplated the role of the priesthood as Jesus walked the earth. Moses (the Old Testament man God used to facilitate the deliverance of the enslaved Hebrew people from their Egyptian masters several thousand years earlier) painted a clear picture of the role of the priesthood in preparing the many different sacrifices required to cover the sins of the people. It was the job of the priests to receive the sacrifices, to prepare them based upon the defined handling procedures and eventually to slay the sacrifice and shed the blood.[9]

The priests of Jesus’ day stepped forward in angry rejection and jealousy of his power, his words and his miraculous works. God used the rejection of the priesthood and the people to facilitate His plan. In the Gospel of John, Jesus declares, “I AM the good shepherd…and I lay down my life…no one takes it from me.“[10]

The priests were on the stage of their lives – and they had fixed cures. They diligently studied all the scriptures, eagerly searching for the promised Messiah, yet when the appointed time arrived – their Kairos – they missed Him.

Kairos moments, throughout history, have shaped the destiny of every individual given life. The apostle Paul added one more interesting layer to the full meaning behind kairos. The people of Philippi had sorely mistreated Paul and his friend Silas. Jealous merchants incited a riot and caused Paul and Silas to be arrested and severely beaten without a fair trial. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and confusion, Providence prevailed. Paul eventually wrote back to the Philippians and made this amazing proclamation: “God is at work in you – both to will and to work for His good pleasure.“[11]

As my life progresses through the Divine script – through these stages as recognized by so many generations past – it is my desire to hear the cues and know my part, even if I can’t control the response of any of the other players. At the end of the day, I can only be responsible for myself and my actions. I have peace to respect this great truth AND I have hope – from Theos Elpis – The God of all hope – that in all things concerning me He is working for His good pleasure and ultimately – for my good.[12]

______________________________________________________________________________

[1] Erasmus, “The Praise of Folly,” 1511; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_the_world%27s_a_stage; accessed June 18, 2013.

[2]Shakespeare, William, “The Merchant of Venice,” Act I, Scene I; 1600, Oxford, England.

[4] Psalm 37:4; ibid, page 1417.

[6]Chronos #5550; ibid; page 99.

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]

My Wilderness Table

Posted: March 29, 2013 in Going Deeper - Hebrew and Greek Word Study Posts, The Feasts - God's Parties, The Virginia Real
Tags: the feasts of the Lord, theology

God’s Parties: The Feasts of the Lord

By Amy Hartmann

How Passover is a shadow of Easter glory!

I’ve given many parties in the past. Most were well received by the invited friends and family members I called to my house. On a couple of occasions, situations prevailed that kept the invited away and all my preparations went unnoticed or appreciated. Some of the food even had to be thrown away. What happens when God throws a party and nobody deems it important enough to attend? Jesus shared such a story in His parable of the marriage feast. “The kingdom of heaven is like a king who prepared a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused to come.”[1]

Years ago, during our season of life in Jacksonville, Florida our Pastor, Bishop P.D. Zink began presenting the significance of the Feasts of God outlined in the 23^rd chapter of Leviticus. I experienced some emotional resistance to this concept. I read the letters the Apostle Paul wrote to the Roman churches and the church at Colossae. I understood Paul’s position on the legalism which blinded and bound up the Pharisees and Sadducees. I grasped the significance of religious ritualism not making me right with God. I comprehended the emptiness of sacrifice without repentance. I also got the pictures Ezekiel and Malachi painted when they outlined the Aaronic priesthood’s failings to properly respect being allowed to approach God in the first place, all be it under the old covenant rules spelled out so laboriously in the laws of Moses.

I began to ponder the grafting in of Gentile believers into God’s original Jewish church. The Apostle Paul called this ‘one new man’ in his letter to the Ephesian believers. I had read through Romans Chapter 11 many times and not really understood the ‘grafting’ concept until I began researching plant propagation for a book I was working on at that time. I read Paul’s words telling me that we Gentiles were ‘wild olive shoots’ and that we were being grafted into the main, cultivated olive tree. I had a lot of questions: what was the significant difference between a wild olive tree versus a cultivated one? Was the fruit better? Did the host tree receive any benefits from the grafted stem? One thing was clear from Paul’s example: the root supports the graft.

Perhaps these were just figures of speech written to help us get a visual understanding. I am a visual learner and such examples and parables open my mind to spiritual concepts. Yet, a passage in Zachariah Chapter 14 haunted me for such a long time…”…in that day living water will flow out from Jerusalem…the survivors from all the nations that have attacked Jerusalem will go up year after year to worship the King, the Lord Almighty AND to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles. If any of the peoples of the earth do not go up to Jerusalem to worship the King, the Lord Almighty, they will have no rain.”[2]

Living in North Florida for so many years, I learned a very important lesson: no rain means no water…no water means great fire! Fire weather is a fearsome condition to live with on a regular basis. No rain means drought. No rain means no crops. No rain means dead grass and brush everywhere. No rain means suffocating heat. No rain means dangerous breathing conditions. Just the air quality problems are enough to make everyone in the community sit up and take notice. Enough smoke in the air will make everyone sick. When the winds begin to carry the fire, nothing can stop it but rain or the complete exhaustion of fuel.

“These are My Feasts,” God said to Moses. “I just want to be with you!”

Maybe I am over simplifying Leviticus Chapter 23 but these sacred assemblies were set times to celebrate the NOW presence of God drawing near to love on His people. He wanted to spend face to face time with all of those willing to draw near. This is an amazing concept to grasp.

The Apostle Paul gives this directive in his writing to the Corinthian church: keep the feasts, not with the old leaven of the law, but with the new understanding that Jesus has fulfilled all of these ‘unfollowable’ commandments. “For Christ, our Passover Lamb, has been sacrificed. Therefore, let us keep the Festival, not with the old yeast of malice and wickedness, but with the bread without yeast, the bread of sincerity and truth.”[3]

We don’t have to keep the feasts…we get to! He lets all of us who were never acceptable because of our birth, our gender or the color of our skin NOW celebrate with Him without fear of censure! The gospel writer Luke understood this when he recorded the response of Zechariah the priest’s words, “…to enable us to serve Him without fear in holiness and righteousness before Him all our days.”[4] I think about this concept a lot.

Prior to Jesus’ death on the cross, only the ceremonial clean Jews were allowed to approach God. All Gentiles – everyone not born a Jew – were NEVER allowed in the Temple in Jerusalem. Paul faced an angry Jewish mob because they thought he brought Trophimus, a Greek, into the Temple area (Acts 21:29). The Jews from the province of Asia determined he had desecrated the Temple in this way and a riot broke out (Acts 21:26-32).

In those days, I would not be ‘good enough’ to ever come before God. In those days, I would have been stopped by the temple police for trying to come into the Temple and approach the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Such an attempt would have brought about my death either from the acceptable worshipers or my own uncleanness in coming before the Holiness of God.

My family sat down Monday evening, when Passover began at sundown, and we took communion after we read the original Passover passage in Exodus 12. In Matthew Chapter 26, we see Jesus sitting down with His disciples to celebrate this same feast. During this most important ‘Last Supper’ celebration, Jesus took some of these same Seder items and began to correlate them to Himself and the work God had given Him to accomplish. Luke records these words, “Do this in remembrance of Me.”[5]

We began to feast on some roasted lamb and the bitter herbs and other things on the Seder menu. My meal was by no means kosher but most of those rules are man-made and not in the original passage in Exodus 12. I didn’t throw out all of my bread, crackers or food items that contained leaven. Most of the processed foods today, such as pasta, cereal, chips etc. may contain some sort of leavening agent and I would have to be a chemist to understand this all fully. I would also have to dump a huge portion of our food items. The sheer financial impact of that act would be impossible for me to shoulder right now. Taking them out of the house and asking someone to keep them for me till the feast period is over seems to be cheating the original text, in my opinion.

The old leaven God was bringing into focus to the people of that day was a way to present a visual image of sin – not just the existence of yeast. My prayer over our meal was for Holy Spirit to rid me of the real leaven…the unforgiveness, the complaints, the slander, the fear, the bitterness and anger that strife and conflict often breeds. These are the real issues that can separate me from God and from others. It is so important to remember who Jesus is and where Jesus was born.

Here are my notes and the word studies that helped me:

1. The first Passover in Exodus 12 is a shadow of what Jesus would do when He died on the cross. Remember Revelation 13:8…Jesus was slain from the foundation of the world. Jesus was also loved from the foundation of the world as we see in John 17:24. He knew He was going to die before He ever began His public ministry…”The reason My Father loves Me is that I lay down My life – only to take it up again. NO one takes it from Me, but I lay it down on My own accord.[6]

2. It was the High Priest’s duty to kill and sacrifice the sin offering – this is very important to understand (Leviticus 9:1-11).

3. What the first Passover provided: Psalm 105:37-45

a. Escape from the death angel – Exodus 12:12-30; a call for a lasting ordinance between God and His people

b. Freedom from slavery and bondage – Exodus 12:40-42; Exodus 13:14-16

c. Everyone was strengthened, even the elderly; no one was sick or infirm; Psalm 105:37

d. He was a light and a covering from the weather/heat

e. Their clothes did not wear out

f. He provided food and water everywhere they went

g. They received a new inheritance…a future and a hope.

h. They spoiled the Egyptians and they came out wealthy…payback for the 430 years of slavery and stolen wages.

4. In John 2:13, Jesus is in Jerusalem for the Passover and to become the fulfillment of the Passover. He is mad because He sees the people being cheated; the lambs they bring are acceptable to God. However, the Temple priests won’t accept the lambs from the people but demand that the people buy ‘approved’ lambs from the Temple flocks. The money changers and animal sellers make money off the trades/exchanges (John 10:7).

5. Jesus declares, “I AM the door of the sheep; in Jerusalem, the sheep gate was the entrance in the northeastern corner of Jerusalem’s city wall (see Neh. 3:1, 12). Apparently, sheep for the Temple sacrifice entered the city through it. It was close to the Pool of Bethesda. Read John 5:1-9 to see a picture of what Jesus came to accomplish in us.

6. Bethlehem means ‘House of Bread’. The Bread of Life was born in the house of bread. Bethlehem – Strong’s No. 1035 (Hebrew) from bayith (1004) means ‘house’; and 3899 ‘lechem means ‘bread’. See (Exodus 25:30).

Bethlehem was also the holding ground for all the sheep being brought into Jerusalem and sold at the Temple for sacrifice during the Feasts of the Lord (Deuteronomy 16:1-17). Approved and acceptable Temple sacrificial lambs were raised by shepherds on the hills of Bethlehem.

7. John 1:29 John the Baptist declared Jesus, “the Lamb that takes away the sin of the world.” He did this since the priesthood had not done so as they should.

8. God says, “These are MY appointed feasts.” – Leviticus 23:1-44 (note: vs. 14, 21):

a. The Sabbath – 6 days you may work, but the 7^th day is a Sabbath of rest; a day of sacred assembly. Our Saturday is the Sabbath. Sunday is the first day of the week.

b. The Passover – on the 14^th day of the first month; it begins at twilight.

c. The Feast of Unleavened Bread – on the 15^th day of the first month – 7 days no bread made with yeast.

d. First Fruits – bring the first from your harvest to the priests on the day after the Sabbath (our Sunday)- the 3^rdday after Passover.

e. Feast of Weeks – Pentecost – count off 50 days from the 7^th Sabbath of the first month (7 full weeks from Passover). Pente means ‘50’ and it celebrates God giving the Ten Commandments to Moses on the mountain.

f. The Feast of Trumpets – the first day of the 7^th month.

g. The Day of Atonement – from sundown on the 9^th day until sundown on the 10^thday of the 7^th month – a solemn time of fasting, personal examination of sin; it is the most holy day of the year. It is also a Sabbath rest day.

h. The Feast of Tabernacles – the 15^th day of the 7^th month – this feast lasts for 7 days. No work is to be done during this week; on the 8^th present an offering to the Lord at the sacred assembly. Live in booths (Let’s go camping – oh yeah!).

9. Jesus is The Fulfillment of The Lord’s Feasts:

a. In death, Jesus rested on the Sabbath. He was buried before sundown on Good Friday (His crucifixion day). Jesus arose from the grave on the first day of the week (our Sunday). Matt. 28:1-10; Mark 16:9-20 (note Acts 28:3-6); Luke 24:1-8; 44-49; John 20:1.

b. Jesus celebrates His last Passover, introduces Communion and becomes the Passover Lamb for the sin of the world; Luke 22:1-13; John 13:1, John 18:28-40; John 19:10-12; John 19:31-37; He is buried before sundown, as the Passover feast begins for the nation of Israel -John 19:42. See I Corinthians 5:6-8, Revelation 13:8b

c. Jesus, the sinless Bread of Heaven introduces His body as the Unleavened Bread sacrifice. John 6:48-63 and Matthew 26:28. Leviticus 2:4-11; Mark 8:15, I Cor. 5-7-8; Galatians 5:9.

d. Jesus, first born among the dead, Romans 8:23, I. Corinthians 15:20-23;I Cor. 15:20-26, James 1:18; Romans 11:11-29. Key on verse 29!

e. Jesus breathes on the 11 remaining disciples and tells them ‘receive the Holy Spirit’. (John 20:19-20; Luke 24:45-49 – “tarry in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high”. Acts 2:-5; Acts 2:1-4; The Holy Spirit comes with power on the 120 waiting per Jesus’ final instructions in Luke and John. This event happens on the Feast of Pentecost, 50 days after Jesus was crucified.

f. The Feast of Trumpets – the blowing of trumpets – all day. I. Thessalonians 4:14-18 (the rapture of the church – unfulfilled); Zechariah 9:14; Zechariah 14:1-9; Matthew 24:30-31

g. Atonement – Rosh Hashanah; Final judgment, the Book of Life opened – unfulfilled (Rev. 20:11-15).

h. The Feast of Tabernacles – God makes His dwelling with us (Rev 21)– unfulfilled – Jesus kept this feast; He declared Himself to be the Living Waters that would be in us, streams of living water; John 7:1-41;Zechariah 14:16-20. Parable of the Great Banquet: Luke 14:15- 23.

i. Jesus – Strong’s Hebrew 3091[from 3068 Yehovah – the self-Existent or Eternal; Jehovah, Jewish national name of God, Jehovah, the Lord; and 3467 yasha (yaw-shah) to be open – wide or free; to be safe, cause to free or succor; avenging, defend, deliver or deliverer, help, preserve, rescue, be safe, bring salvation, save or savior, get victory. Jesus – Strong’s Greek 2424.

[2] Zechariah 14:1-21, ibid; pages 2411 and 2413.

[3] I Corinthians 5:7-8; ibid, page 2917.

[4] Luke 1:67-79; ibid, pages 2589 and 2591.

[5] Luke 22:7-20; note verse 19; ibid, pages 2673 and 2675.

[6] John 10:14-18; ibid, page 2727.

They that wait…

Posted: February 18, 2013 in Poetry and Prose

Patience Days

I call these patience days…

these hours that I must wait…

the place where I must step aside

and let Your Name be great.

I’ve seen these times before…

as needs of mine were set,

and as I cried, and watched and prayed,

I always saw them met.

If everything came all at once

then life would have no pace.

For only when I stop and wait…

do You increase my faith.

By Amy Lee Hartmann

August 29, 1994

The Locksmith

Posted: February 6, 2013 in The Locksmith, The Super in my natural...

By Amy L. Hartmann

February 6, 2013

Our home community has many amenities that I really admire, such as the 500 acre lake and the equestrian center. All the heavily wooded adjoining properties, the golf course and the designated public spaces give the development many of the same characteristics of the state parks here in Virginia. The retreat atmosphere is very consoling. I particularly like watching the deer walk through our backyard to sit down and sun in the clearing just beyond our back deck.

Our house has a wrap around porch and a finished basement with a marvelous Buck stove. That same basement has a long expanse of doors that look out over the back yard. The doors are from a well known manufacturer and they close and lock with a special type of door knob and release action.

Unfortunately, the basement door knob had been broken by a previous renter, who must of not understood the secret to getting the door locked properly. Its missing handle and jagged, shattered pin was a constant reminder that it needed to be repaired. It was also an egress issue. I called the manufacturer numerous times trying to locate replacement parts. “You must purchase a whole new lockset,” they advised, “since those doors are more than 25 years old. It will be about $300 for the lockset.” The funds for such a repair were just not available when we first moved to the house.

Like the broken handle, many of the fixed points in my family have been harshly amended by the economic upheaval over the past few years. For such a long time we enjoyed the warmth and predictable seasons of Northeast Florida. Days came and went as my children grew and became teens; school years passed with the busy pace of life. Minor jolts in the cadence we kept made life interesting and slightly unpredictable, but mostly the days just rolled on like the tides that swept back and forth across the beach a few miles from our home.

In 2008, my husband’s job changes brought about the need to move our kids from private school to home school. The learning curve for this new venture was short, painful and dramatic. In 2010, job changes again interjected a new ripple on the calm waters of life: now we had to prepare to move the family to Virginia as soon as our home sale took place. My husband took off for Virginia, eager to embrace a new state and his new job. All the indicators pointed to great success and forward progress for our family. A bloated and upside-down Northeast Florida housing market, however, inflicted its toll on our emotions, our patience and eventually our finances. The house sold for half price almost a year later. Leaving our friends and the stability of our church family, we mourned as we packed the moving boxes. Finally it was time to load the trucks and drive away.

Almost 14 hours later we arrived in Virginia; we were exhausted, weary and cautious. Job instability with my husband’s employment again became a great concern. One month after our arrival, the August 2011 Virginia earthquake struck. The epicenter was less than 30 miles from our house. I stood in the middle of the living room, absolutely amazed and very frightened as the house shook and groaned. It was a horrible sound the earth made as it trembled.

That same week, my husband was released from the very job that had moved us 700 miles from our comfort zone and all our friends. That same day, massive storms brought tornadoes tearing through the community. By the weekend, Hurricane Irene had passed across the eastern side of the state, wrecking and destroying the coast lands trapped in its destructive path.

Throughout every moment of change and shaking, I could hear the still, small voice of God, whispering to me and reminding me of a man named Elijah who faced so many similar obstacles thousands of years before….

“Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by,” I read. “Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.”[1]

“Do you trust Me?” the same gentle Whisperer asked, as I unpacked each box and looked for normalcy in our lives. I firmly recalled each precious time God had been faithful to meet every need. I recalled His amazing healing in my body on Father’s Day in 2004, when He touched me at a Sunday night service and in one moment removed a dangerous breast mass that had come up swiftly. I remember the puzzled faces of the surgeons in the breast center, as they scanned the digital images and the ultrasound video, looking over and over for the same mass they had documented months before.

I recalled the amazing feeling of being healed as my right leg grew before my very eyes in 2009 on another Father’s Day Sunday night service at the same church. I fixed my memory’s gaze on the sweet face of the simple young man from California that had come to tell our congregation about Jesus delivering him from a decade long crack cocaine addiction. I smiled in puzzlement as he knelt in front of each of the 35 or so of us that had come forward for his prayer for people with scoliosis and uneven leg lengths. I remembered the fire in my right femur as that lava of Love did what no doctor could do.

“Yes,” I replied to the gentle Whisperer, “I trust You!”

In September of 2012, another shaking occurred when my husband decided he would rather be on his own than stay with me and our kids. We were devastated. I was already a cycling widow to his 12 plus years of mountain biking and road cycling obsession; add to that the year he spent away from us prior to our move to Virginia. The kids and I were very accustomed to being a low priority in his life, but we never thought he would not want to come home to us at the end of the day.

Back in May of 2012, he took another engineering job several hours away from our home The commute was too great and he obtained an apartment near his job. Sometime in late summer his apartment was broken into and his security breached. His keys and other items were removed.

In December when my family heard of this event, they pitched in and sent me funds to have our locks changed too. They were concerned about our safety. Their generosity was a wonderful and unexpected early Christmas gift.

I called several local businesses, discussing the required number of locks that would be changed with the receptionists. I made an appointment with the closest business. The locksmith was scheduled to come on Friday, four days before Christmas. I was most anxious to have the work done. The afternoon he was to arrive it was snowing heavily and bitterly cold. The locksmith called me and told me he had the flu. “Mam, I am just too sick to be out in this weather,” he advised, “and I’d hate to bring this stuff to your house.”

Suddenly I heard the gentle Whisperer, “Ask him if you can pray for him.”

“Alright,” I whispered back.

”Sir, would you mind if I pray for you right now?” I asked.

The locksmith coughed and wheezed, “…sure lady, go ahead.”

I prayed for him to be completely healed and the flu broken off of him, not to return. He was patient and gracious as I prayed. “I’ll call you after Christmas and let you know when I’m feeling better,” he advised. “I’ve not been sick like this in a long time so it may take me a while to get back with you.”

“That’s fine,” I heard myself reply. Inside I was still anxious.

“I really wanted the locks changed as soon as possible,” I reminded the Holy Spirit. “Maybe I should just call the other business.”

“No, wait on him,” the gentle Whisperer advised. “Do you trust Me?”

“Yes, Lord, I trust You!”

Wednesday, the day after Christmas, my phone rang and it was the locksmith. “I’m feeling much better,” he said, “I’ll be at your house by 3:00.”

He arrived and began assessing our needs. I walked him around to all the doors and finally we were downstairs in the basement, looking at that broken door handle. I explained my predicament, my calls to the manufacturer and their inability to respond to the simple part need. He nodded his head in agreement. “They don’t want to take the time to hear about a missing screw or door pin,” he replied, “they just want to sell expensive locks. I get the same response too.” With that, he went to work, changing out all the locks.

Almost an hour later, I noticed he had disappeared. I knew his phone was constantly ringing so I figured he had stepped outside to take one of his many calls. I waited to see where he was working since he was still taking the old locks out of the doors. Their removal left a gaping hole that fed cold air into the house. At last I saw him at the garage door. He stayed busy for another full hour. Then he disappeared again. I tried not to feel impatient as I plugged the open holes with some old towels and kept our dog out of his way.

Outside it was dark and snowing again. Finally he came back inside and quickly plugged up the holes with the new locks. Fifteen minutes later he came to get me. “Here are your new keys,” he advised, as he handed me the invoice. I took out the money to pay him as we walked around to each door. When we came down to the basement, I saw a big smile cross his face. “I fixed that broken door,” he declared cheerfully. “I keep all the old lock sets I take out of houses. While I was in the van making the new keys, I dug through some junk boxes. It took a little while but I finally found what I was looking for – the exact pin needed to replace your door’s broken one. There’s no charge for that!”

He smiled again, happy and satisfied with his work. “I got better real quick too,” he added, “but you know how the flu is…you think you’re better only to have a relapse a week later…”

I suddenly realized I had not heard him cough or even wheeze the entire time he had been working. “May I pray for you again,” I asked?

“Sure lady.”

Several days later, the gentle Whisperer called me to attention: “Did you grasp My favor?” He asked.

I thought about the entire visit; the cheerfulness of the locksmith as he went about replacing the locks and how he was really better and the flu gone. Then I suddenly caught the impact of the whole process: I was anxious about the broken door for many months; anxious about the cost to fix it; anxious about the stolen keys and my broken marriage.

At the height of my need, another person needed me to press past my own pain and agenda, and to respond to his sickness and sincere appreciation for the work I was going to provide. My patience was being perfected by the wait…my faith stretched to believe for a stranger’s healing from a bad case of the flu…and ultimately the part needed for my broken door was waiting in that junk box for such a time as this. The locks of fear threatening my own heart were suddenly smashed away with the realization that God cares about the smallest needs of my life, and like the locksmith, He takes great joy in meeting them. I could sense His smile too, that He was happy and well pleased with His work at that moment in me.

Not A Matter of Talk

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I Have No One Like You

Going to Goshen

Wells We Did Not Dig

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Fresh Bread for His Table

To Will and To Work

Never Forget Father’s Day

My Wilderness Table

They that wait…

The Locksmith

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