When my mom passed away in July of 2011, I had the responsibility of explaining to my 2-year-old son where his beloved Grammy went. I decided to keep it honest and simple.
"Grammy doesn't live with Baba Jack anymore. She went to live in heaven with Jesus. She can't come visit us or play anymore. She's busy working with Jesus now and we won't see her for a while. But she loves us and Jesus loves us. And someday we will see her again."
After a double checking that Grammy wasn't at church, Jesus' house, Ben seemed satisfied with the explanation and didn't ask to see or talk to Grammy for almost three months.
We were sending out invitations for his third birthday and I asked him who he wanted to invite. The first two people on his list, "Grammy Jesus." After that, he asked to see Grammy every single day for three weeks or more.
When he asked, I always told him that he needed to pray to God the Father and ask if Grammy could visit him. Then we'd pray together:
Dear God in Heaven,
We love you and praise you. Father, Ben misses his Grammy. Could she please visit him. We love you.
In Jesus' Name,
Amen
One Sunday morning, God answered Ben's prayer. As we walked into the sanctuary at Grain Valley, Ben pointed to the back wall and said, "Look Mama! Grammy Jesus!" He pointed to the same spot three more times, each time excitedly saying, "Look, Grammy Jesus!"
I wasn't privileged to see our heavenly visitors, but I know they were there. That was the first Sunday Ben "sat" through an entire service. (A miracle in itself.)
God is so generous. He answered my little boy's prayer to see his Grammy and gave him the added testimony of seeing Jesus too. Although Ben won't remember this experience into adulthood, what a beautiful blessing.
And what a blessing for our entire congregation to have Jesus come and worship with us on a Sunday morning. God is such a loving and generous father. Glory to God!
Psalm 150
1) Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in the firmament of his power.
2) Praise him for his mighty acts; priase him according to his excellent greatness.
3) Praise him with the sound of the trumpet; praise him with the psaltery and harp.
4)Praise him with the timbrel and dance; praise him with stringed instruments and organs.
5) Praise him upon the loud cymbals; praise him upon the high-sounding cymbals.
6) Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord
Monday, February 27, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Pray for Your Enemies - Adriane Howe
I learned to pray when I was a little girl. I was taught to pray for things I was thankful for, my parents, our house, and food on the table. When I was around my teenage years I learned to pray for my friends and family who were sick, for safety when traveling, things I was thankful for and forgiveness for things I had done wrong. As an adult I learned from trials and tribulations to pray for protection, wisdom and strength. There was one particular situation that first taught me the importance of praying for my enemies.
I had worked for a couple that was strong in their Baptist beliefs and they were constantly trying to show me how wrong my faith in the Book of Mormon was and how me and all my family that believed as I did were going to rot in hell. After a brutal verbal assault from them one day, I left work and prayed. Without thinking at all, my car and I drove to Susan Mauck at the clinic.
As I was praying in the car the Lord gave me Psalm 46. I wasn’t sure what it was so when I got to the clinic with tears and snot bubbles, Susan took me to the back and prayed with me. We then looked up Psalm 46, verse one is the part that stood out immediately, “God is our refuge and strength, a present help in trouble”.
Susan encouraged me to pray for my enemies as much if not more than my family. I found this task extremely difficult because I was so upset, but I did pray for my enemies and when I was done I was filled with such peace, no anger, no feelings of revenge, just peace.
When I met my husband Paul in 2007, he had warned me that his ex-wife was a handful and would cause us many problems. He made it clear from the beginning that it would be best if I never really dealt with her one-on-one. I found out that she suffers from several different mental illnesses.
In the first year being married to Paul, I wondered why this woman was so evil, why when I had always treated her with grace and respect was she always so hateful and spiteful towards me. I had many conversations with my mom about my frustrations with this woman and how it didn’t matter what I did she seemed to find a way to influence my house into chaos and negativity. I remember one day when I just felt like I couldn’t deal any longer with the chaotic life this woman seemed to constantly be causing us, my mom asked me if I had prayed for the woman. No, why would I? I haven’t done anything wrong.
Instead I prayed for myself, “Give me the strength to keep my angry thoughts to myself, give me patience to put up with this woman who clearly has no desire to ever deal with me in a civil way”. My prayers were for me, but my mom reminded me that this woman is the one who needed prayers.
So I started praying for this woman who constantly did me wrong, called me names, told lies about me, was in all ways my enemy. I prayed that her heart would be softened, that she would have joy in her life. That the demons that whispered in her ear to create chaos would be bound to the hell they came from.
For the next two and a half years, I prayed almost every day for this woman because I now saw her in a different light. I saw her as Jesus saw her, broken in spirit, joyless, loveless. My heart was so broken for her, that she clearly was lacking Jesus in her life. Even when this woman called me names or sent me terrible text messages I always responded as Jesus would have wanted me to, with love and forgiveness.
I let her know often that I was praying for her. Sometimes in her anger she would scoff at me as though I was mocking her by telling her that I was praying for her. She would respond with a quick hateful jab attacking me as a Christian. There were many times over the past few years that I wondered if God really heard me. Or maybe I wasn’t praying enough or the right way because it seemed like this woman was NEVER going to change and my prayers were never going to be answered.
In October of 2011, this woman called my husband and asked if she could come over and talk to the both of us together. I was a little skeptical, but she seemed adamant that we all talked together. With tears in her eyes she told us that she had a very spiritual experience that had changed her life. That she was so sorry for the way she had treated us the past few years and to please forgive her.
She specifically let me know that she was so sorry for purposely trying to sabotage me and my marriage that she had been angry and jealous and there was no excuse for the horrible things she had done. She said that she had not had joy or love in her life and she finally realized it was her own fault; she had been pushing the joy and love away and embracing anger and hate for far too long and she knew now how toxic she had been to herself and everyone around her. She asked me for my forgiveness which I gladly gave her.
I let her know that I truly had been praying for her, that she would find joy again. She thanked me and promised that she would never act this way again.
I was so grateful that God heard my prayers. This woman will never be the perfect friend to me, she still suffers from her illness and struggles with that, but I know without a doubt that my prayers helped her. That God took the time to listen to the prayers of one small Christian whose heart was breaking for another. It may have taken a few years before my prayers were answered but I know that it had to be in God's time not my own.
God tells us to pray without ceasing, and his promise is that he does hear and he does respond. We need to learn to be patient and wait for Gods time to answer, and when he does answer you will know without a doubt that your Savior hears you!
Matt. 5:45-50
45) Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy.
46) But I say unto you, love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you; and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you;
47) That ye may be the children of your Father who is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and unjust.
48) For if ye love only them which love you, what reward have you? Do not even the publicans the same?
50) Ye are therefore commanded to be perfect, even as your Father who is in heaven is perfect.
I had worked for a couple that was strong in their Baptist beliefs and they were constantly trying to show me how wrong my faith in the Book of Mormon was and how me and all my family that believed as I did were going to rot in hell. After a brutal verbal assault from them one day, I left work and prayed. Without thinking at all, my car and I drove to Susan Mauck at the clinic.
As I was praying in the car the Lord gave me Psalm 46. I wasn’t sure what it was so when I got to the clinic with tears and snot bubbles, Susan took me to the back and prayed with me. We then looked up Psalm 46, verse one is the part that stood out immediately, “God is our refuge and strength, a present help in trouble”.
Susan encouraged me to pray for my enemies as much if not more than my family. I found this task extremely difficult because I was so upset, but I did pray for my enemies and when I was done I was filled with such peace, no anger, no feelings of revenge, just peace.
When I met my husband Paul in 2007, he had warned me that his ex-wife was a handful and would cause us many problems. He made it clear from the beginning that it would be best if I never really dealt with her one-on-one. I found out that she suffers from several different mental illnesses.
In the first year being married to Paul, I wondered why this woman was so evil, why when I had always treated her with grace and respect was she always so hateful and spiteful towards me. I had many conversations with my mom about my frustrations with this woman and how it didn’t matter what I did she seemed to find a way to influence my house into chaos and negativity. I remember one day when I just felt like I couldn’t deal any longer with the chaotic life this woman seemed to constantly be causing us, my mom asked me if I had prayed for the woman. No, why would I? I haven’t done anything wrong.
Instead I prayed for myself, “Give me the strength to keep my angry thoughts to myself, give me patience to put up with this woman who clearly has no desire to ever deal with me in a civil way”. My prayers were for me, but my mom reminded me that this woman is the one who needed prayers.
So I started praying for this woman who constantly did me wrong, called me names, told lies about me, was in all ways my enemy. I prayed that her heart would be softened, that she would have joy in her life. That the demons that whispered in her ear to create chaos would be bound to the hell they came from.
For the next two and a half years, I prayed almost every day for this woman because I now saw her in a different light. I saw her as Jesus saw her, broken in spirit, joyless, loveless. My heart was so broken for her, that she clearly was lacking Jesus in her life. Even when this woman called me names or sent me terrible text messages I always responded as Jesus would have wanted me to, with love and forgiveness.
I let her know often that I was praying for her. Sometimes in her anger she would scoff at me as though I was mocking her by telling her that I was praying for her. She would respond with a quick hateful jab attacking me as a Christian. There were many times over the past few years that I wondered if God really heard me. Or maybe I wasn’t praying enough or the right way because it seemed like this woman was NEVER going to change and my prayers were never going to be answered.
In October of 2011, this woman called my husband and asked if she could come over and talk to the both of us together. I was a little skeptical, but she seemed adamant that we all talked together. With tears in her eyes she told us that she had a very spiritual experience that had changed her life. That she was so sorry for the way she had treated us the past few years and to please forgive her.
She specifically let me know that she was so sorry for purposely trying to sabotage me and my marriage that she had been angry and jealous and there was no excuse for the horrible things she had done. She said that she had not had joy or love in her life and she finally realized it was her own fault; she had been pushing the joy and love away and embracing anger and hate for far too long and she knew now how toxic she had been to herself and everyone around her. She asked me for my forgiveness which I gladly gave her.
I let her know that I truly had been praying for her, that she would find joy again. She thanked me and promised that she would never act this way again.
I was so grateful that God heard my prayers. This woman will never be the perfect friend to me, she still suffers from her illness and struggles with that, but I know without a doubt that my prayers helped her. That God took the time to listen to the prayers of one small Christian whose heart was breaking for another. It may have taken a few years before my prayers were answered but I know that it had to be in God's time not my own.
God tells us to pray without ceasing, and his promise is that he does hear and he does respond. We need to learn to be patient and wait for Gods time to answer, and when he does answer you will know without a doubt that your Savior hears you!
Matt. 5:45-50
45) Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy.
46) But I say unto you, love your enemies; bless them that curse you; do good to them that hate you; and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you;
47) That ye may be the children of your Father who is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and unjust.
48) For if ye love only them which love you, what reward have you? Do not even the publicans the same?
50) Ye are therefore commanded to be perfect, even as your Father who is in heaven is perfect.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Fingers Healed - Emili Elefson
I was about three or four years old and spending the weekend with my grandparents. My grandmother and I had gone to the co-op grocery store to pick up a few things. I remember I was eating Chili Cheese Fritos when it happened. She was buckling me in for the ride home and somehow I got all four of my fingers in the way of the slamming car door. I remember her opening it and crying with me as we drove off. As soon as we got home, she liberally poured consecrated oil all over my fingers and prayed over them before putting me down for a nap. The next thing I remember is waking up from a three to four-hour nap and feeling no pain. Upon further inspection by my Grandmother, there were no marks or bruises on my hand either. I am grateful for a Grandmother who led me to the Lord, but I am more grateful for a loving Savior who hears our every prayer.
Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.
~ James 5:16
Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.
~ James 5:16
Monday, December 19, 2011
Meningitis Forgiveness - Michael Perry
It started out as a rash, a small one on my side, like a patch of poison ivy. I had been cleaning out a wooded area for several days messing with vines and brush and debris, so catching poison ivy wasn’t unusual even if it was mid-February. A day or two later, my head started to ache. Overnight the feeling changed from a dull ache to the constant tightening of a vice on both temples, accompanied by a 10-pound hammer smashing over and over onto my anvil-like forehead. I was miserable! I had experienced migraines as a child. They must have returned. Another day passed, and I was begging my doctor for the strongest migraine medication available. That didn’t help any more than the poison ivy cream was helping.
Two days later, I wound up in the hospital with a case of shingles (which I had never heard of before) and spinal meningitis - the viral variety not the bacterial type - not so great for me, but not bad for the people around me. After a few days of intravenous antiviral medication and some seriously strong pain medicine, the hospital staff sent me home; there was nothing else to be done. I wasn’t contagious. I wasn’t dying. The virus would run its course. No problem…for them.
The problem for me was the pain. I had never experienced such constant excruciating pain before: all through my head, in my neck, and running down my spine. Light hurt. Sound hurt. Sitting hurt. Laying down hurt. Standing hurt. For all intents and purposes, I was completely incapacitated. For weeks I laid in bed, so sick I could scarcely move. Keep in mind that while trying to care for my needs, my wonderful wife Jessica was also taking care of a three-year-old Makayla, two-year-old Nicholas, and infant Rebekah, as well as Brian and Destiny every other week.
I had been administered to in the hospital, but again I called for the elders, and then again, and then again. Five weeks went by from the time that I had come home, and still the headaches and neck aches persisted. I still couldn’t stand up without the pain creating wave after wave of nausea. While I should have been ramping up for the busiest time of a landscaper’s year, I was laying in bed with a pillow over my head.
I started visiting my chiropractor thinking that if he could just adjust my neck and stretch out the vertebrae, perhaps the headaches would resolve themselves. Adjustments just made me sick though, as did the acupuncture he tried (I’ve never liked needles, but now I have a distinct distaste for them, especially when they are dangling from my face and forehead). Another administration came and went without a healing, without relief. Desperation and depression were setting in.
Sure that a good massage and neck popping would be the ticket this time, I again visited my chiropractor, also an elder in the restoration. I walked into the clinic without an appointment, and a man I had never met before, nor since, stepped over to me, introduced himself, and announced that I needed an administration. I thanked him for his concern, and countered that I needed my vertebrae separated.
“No,” he said, “you need an administration.” I told him I had been administered to at least six times in as many weeks and really wanted a heating pad on my neck and head, followed by a nice adjustment. He was quite gracious and asked if I was looking for a healing. I told him I would settle for just a little relief, but yes, a healing would be nice. We compromised: an administration first followed by a chiropractic adjustment—no acupuncture.
I did not believe I would be healed, and I was not, but the moment the elders put their hands on my head something happened. Then he started to speak.
He told me first that the Lord was with me, that the Lord knew of my struggles and was carrying me. He said that the Lord wanted me to know that the sin that I battled with was forgiven through the blood of Jesus Christ. At that moment, a weight that I didn’t know I had been carrying lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how heavy the burden of my sin was. Jesus Christ took that burden from me right then and there at that moment.
Surely all of us have seen the movie, or the play, or the musical about Scrooge. At one point old Jacob Marley swoops through the air weighted down with what looks like several hundred pounds of chains around his shoulders and neck. It was the heavy weight of chains just like Jacob Marley’s that I shed, or rather that Christ took from me that day. I wept openly in my new freedom.
Five days later I sat in church, still very much in pain. I couldn’t keep from squeezing repeatedly at my neck trying to release the tension or relieve the pain or something, anything! After the service, as I walked across the back of the sanctuary hurting frustrated and down, my dear friend Susan pulled me aside, placed the palm of her right hand on the exact spot from which most of the pain seemed to be radiating, just at the base of my skull, and she prayed. She asked the Lord to release me from my pain so that I might attend to my family and my business. He did! It was a simple prayer: a supplication, a request; it was not an administration. I walked out of the church pain-free. My neck felt tight for several more weeks. My head felt oddly heavy, but the pain was gone.
I have never since felt physical pain quite that horrific, nor have I felt as free as when Christ lifted the weight of my sins from me at the Chiropractor’s office. I don’t completely understand the sequence of events, or why God chose to move the way He did, at the times He did, but there was no doubt then, nor is there now that it was in His time, in His way, that He acted, that He forgave, that He healed.
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
~ John 8:36
Two days later, I wound up in the hospital with a case of shingles (which I had never heard of before) and spinal meningitis - the viral variety not the bacterial type - not so great for me, but not bad for the people around me. After a few days of intravenous antiviral medication and some seriously strong pain medicine, the hospital staff sent me home; there was nothing else to be done. I wasn’t contagious. I wasn’t dying. The virus would run its course. No problem…for them.
The problem for me was the pain. I had never experienced such constant excruciating pain before: all through my head, in my neck, and running down my spine. Light hurt. Sound hurt. Sitting hurt. Laying down hurt. Standing hurt. For all intents and purposes, I was completely incapacitated. For weeks I laid in bed, so sick I could scarcely move. Keep in mind that while trying to care for my needs, my wonderful wife Jessica was also taking care of a three-year-old Makayla, two-year-old Nicholas, and infant Rebekah, as well as Brian and Destiny every other week.
I had been administered to in the hospital, but again I called for the elders, and then again, and then again. Five weeks went by from the time that I had come home, and still the headaches and neck aches persisted. I still couldn’t stand up without the pain creating wave after wave of nausea. While I should have been ramping up for the busiest time of a landscaper’s year, I was laying in bed with a pillow over my head.
I started visiting my chiropractor thinking that if he could just adjust my neck and stretch out the vertebrae, perhaps the headaches would resolve themselves. Adjustments just made me sick though, as did the acupuncture he tried (I’ve never liked needles, but now I have a distinct distaste for them, especially when they are dangling from my face and forehead). Another administration came and went without a healing, without relief. Desperation and depression were setting in.
Sure that a good massage and neck popping would be the ticket this time, I again visited my chiropractor, also an elder in the restoration. I walked into the clinic without an appointment, and a man I had never met before, nor since, stepped over to me, introduced himself, and announced that I needed an administration. I thanked him for his concern, and countered that I needed my vertebrae separated.
“No,” he said, “you need an administration.” I told him I had been administered to at least six times in as many weeks and really wanted a heating pad on my neck and head, followed by a nice adjustment. He was quite gracious and asked if I was looking for a healing. I told him I would settle for just a little relief, but yes, a healing would be nice. We compromised: an administration first followed by a chiropractic adjustment—no acupuncture.
I did not believe I would be healed, and I was not, but the moment the elders put their hands on my head something happened. Then he started to speak.
He told me first that the Lord was with me, that the Lord knew of my struggles and was carrying me. He said that the Lord wanted me to know that the sin that I battled with was forgiven through the blood of Jesus Christ. At that moment, a weight that I didn’t know I had been carrying lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how heavy the burden of my sin was. Jesus Christ took that burden from me right then and there at that moment.
Surely all of us have seen the movie, or the play, or the musical about Scrooge. At one point old Jacob Marley swoops through the air weighted down with what looks like several hundred pounds of chains around his shoulders and neck. It was the heavy weight of chains just like Jacob Marley’s that I shed, or rather that Christ took from me that day. I wept openly in my new freedom.
Five days later I sat in church, still very much in pain. I couldn’t keep from squeezing repeatedly at my neck trying to release the tension or relieve the pain or something, anything! After the service, as I walked across the back of the sanctuary hurting frustrated and down, my dear friend Susan pulled me aside, placed the palm of her right hand on the exact spot from which most of the pain seemed to be radiating, just at the base of my skull, and she prayed. She asked the Lord to release me from my pain so that I might attend to my family and my business. He did! It was a simple prayer: a supplication, a request; it was not an administration. I walked out of the church pain-free. My neck felt tight for several more weeks. My head felt oddly heavy, but the pain was gone.
I have never since felt physical pain quite that horrific, nor have I felt as free as when Christ lifted the weight of my sins from me at the Chiropractor’s office. I don’t completely understand the sequence of events, or why God chose to move the way He did, at the times He did, but there was no doubt then, nor is there now that it was in His time, in His way, that He acted, that He forgave, that He healed.
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
~ John 8:36
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Your Heavenly Father will Provide - Liz Scully
Years ago while we lived in Appleton City, I had a dream where God told me we were always to have a large house with lots of rooms and plenty of food on hand for those that would come through. We were blessed with that not only in Appleton City, but also Warsaw. I always felt we would house and feed those making their way to Zion.
Then we moved to Blue Springs and were in a much smaller home for several years. We took several kids in for a variety of reasons. We then moved to our home in Grain Valley, here we have had many people live with us over the past eight years.
As I was doing lawn work and talking to God, it came to me that we were still in a large home because we need to house and feed those coming through, not just moving to Zion, but also moving to a different places in their lives.
I’m thankful that God always gives us what we need and hope that we will always be His willing servants.
And your heavenly Father will provide for you, whatsoever things ye need for food, what you shall eat; and for rainment, what ye shall wear or put on.
~Matt. 6:27
Then we moved to Blue Springs and were in a much smaller home for several years. We took several kids in for a variety of reasons. We then moved to our home in Grain Valley, here we have had many people live with us over the past eight years.
As I was doing lawn work and talking to God, it came to me that we were still in a large home because we need to house and feed those coming through, not just moving to Zion, but also moving to a different places in their lives.
I’m thankful that God always gives us what we need and hope that we will always be His willing servants.
And your heavenly Father will provide for you, whatsoever things ye need for food, what you shall eat; and for rainment, what ye shall wear or put on.
~Matt. 6:27
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Saved From an Evil Spirit - Ron Brooks
Although it has been many years since Christmas 1952, I shall never forget the night an evil spirit came to claim my body. The experience left me with undeniable evidence regarding the truthfulness of Ephesians 6:12. "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." It also left me with an undeniable testimony of God’s love, and that Jesus lives and watches over me.
I was in my freshman year at Graceland College, which is now Graceland University.
My parents had traveled from Long Beach, California to pick me up, and then go on to Monet, Missouri to celebrate Christmas with my grandparents and a few other family members. It was a family reunion of those who had gathered to the small rural home of my grandparents.
On Sunday morning we attended church services at the local RLDS congregation. After church, the pastor asked if I would agree to preach during the evening service. At the time I held the office of Deacon and did not have much experience in the preaching ministry. However I readily agreed, trusting that the Lord would support and direct my efforts. He did.
Today I do not remember the words that were spoken, nor even the sermon topic. But I do remember being able to speak under the direction of the Holy Spirit, and felt joy in being so blessed.
That night, after enjoying an evening of family fellowship, we retired to our several beds. Although small, my grandparents home provided several bedrooms both upstairs and down. The bedroom I shared with my grandparents was at the top of a flight of stairs. My grandfather and grandmother slept in a bed on one side of the room, while I slept in a bed on the opposite side. A yard light shining through a window between the two beds dimly illuminated the room. The stairway ended at the foot of the beds.
Around two in the morning I was awakened by the sound of a train whistle several miles away in the distance. Although not very loud, the mournful sound aroused me.
I woke to an intense coldness in the room. It was unlike any coldness I had ever before experienced. It was not like the cold of winter that freezes from the outside, it was a cold that penetrated to the core. This was not a physical sensation due to winter weather. This was the manifestation of a demonic presence. I have since become aware that this intense coldness accompanies a spirit that does not have the light, or warmth of Jesus.
In addition to the cold I became aware of an intense blackness near the stairway. As I watched, this blackness began to flow toward me. It came closer and closer and began to settle over and around me. I felt as though I was being cast into outer space. The intense blackness is hard to describe, but it is similar to what one experiences when the lights are turned off in a cave.
I fought back mentally. The blackness retreated - but returned. I mentally willed it away again, but it kept returning, stronger each time. I called to my grandmother, waking her up. She immediately exclaimed about the coldness. I told her what was happening, and she got up out of bed. A light hung from the ceiling and was turned on by pulling on a string. Grandmother pulled the string, but there was nothing there, only the intense coldness remained. I don’t know why, but grandmother pulled on the string again turning off the light. Then she got into bed with me. The blackness then began attacking both of us.
I realized that there was nothing we could do to protect ourselves from this evil spirit. I told grandmother that we should pray for deliverance. We began to pray to Jesus for protection.
As we were engaged in earnest prayer a beautiful light appeared above, near the ceiling. Words fail to describe the beauty of that light. To the best I can describe, it appeared like gossamer angel hair often seen on Christmas trees, but it had an internal luminosity that was at once soft, yet vibrant. The light brought a feeling of deliverance and calm reassurance. Fear gave way to the knowledge that we were being protected and delivered from evil by our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
As we watched, the light came down and completely encircled the darkness, lifting it up through the ceiling. As the light approached the ceiling it parted, then closed allowing the light, with the darkness, to pass through. A feeling of joy, peace, love, and protection remained.
After Christmas I returned to Graceland. I was living in the home of Bishop Earl Higdon in Lamoni, Iowa. Several male students occupied bedrooms on the second floor of the home. The first night back at Graceland I again experienced that intense coldness upon entering my room. I had told my roommate about my experience with the dark spirit. When he felt the cold oppressive presence in the room he picked up his things and moved across the hall. In addition to the cold I perceived a darkness in one area of the room. But also present in the room was my beautiful cloud of light.
I reasoned that if the darkness had followed me all the way from southern Missouri to southern Iowa there was no place I could go to escape. But as long as I had my white light to protect me there was no reason to fear. Each night as I went to bed the blackness appeared in one corner and the light in the other, and each night I would pray to God for protection, and then lie down to go to sleep secure in the confidence that Jesus was watching over me. After about a week the dark cloud left and did not return.
No, I shall never forget the night that an evil spirit came to posses me. But I also will always have the knowledge that Jesus loves and protects me.
Ronald W. Brooks
Grain Valley, Missouri
August 6, 2011
I was in my freshman year at Graceland College, which is now Graceland University.
My parents had traveled from Long Beach, California to pick me up, and then go on to Monet, Missouri to celebrate Christmas with my grandparents and a few other family members. It was a family reunion of those who had gathered to the small rural home of my grandparents.
On Sunday morning we attended church services at the local RLDS congregation. After church, the pastor asked if I would agree to preach during the evening service. At the time I held the office of Deacon and did not have much experience in the preaching ministry. However I readily agreed, trusting that the Lord would support and direct my efforts. He did.
Today I do not remember the words that were spoken, nor even the sermon topic. But I do remember being able to speak under the direction of the Holy Spirit, and felt joy in being so blessed.
That night, after enjoying an evening of family fellowship, we retired to our several beds. Although small, my grandparents home provided several bedrooms both upstairs and down. The bedroom I shared with my grandparents was at the top of a flight of stairs. My grandfather and grandmother slept in a bed on one side of the room, while I slept in a bed on the opposite side. A yard light shining through a window between the two beds dimly illuminated the room. The stairway ended at the foot of the beds.
Around two in the morning I was awakened by the sound of a train whistle several miles away in the distance. Although not very loud, the mournful sound aroused me.
I woke to an intense coldness in the room. It was unlike any coldness I had ever before experienced. It was not like the cold of winter that freezes from the outside, it was a cold that penetrated to the core. This was not a physical sensation due to winter weather. This was the manifestation of a demonic presence. I have since become aware that this intense coldness accompanies a spirit that does not have the light, or warmth of Jesus.
In addition to the cold I became aware of an intense blackness near the stairway. As I watched, this blackness began to flow toward me. It came closer and closer and began to settle over and around me. I felt as though I was being cast into outer space. The intense blackness is hard to describe, but it is similar to what one experiences when the lights are turned off in a cave.
I fought back mentally. The blackness retreated - but returned. I mentally willed it away again, but it kept returning, stronger each time. I called to my grandmother, waking her up. She immediately exclaimed about the coldness. I told her what was happening, and she got up out of bed. A light hung from the ceiling and was turned on by pulling on a string. Grandmother pulled the string, but there was nothing there, only the intense coldness remained. I don’t know why, but grandmother pulled on the string again turning off the light. Then she got into bed with me. The blackness then began attacking both of us.
I realized that there was nothing we could do to protect ourselves from this evil spirit. I told grandmother that we should pray for deliverance. We began to pray to Jesus for protection.
As we were engaged in earnest prayer a beautiful light appeared above, near the ceiling. Words fail to describe the beauty of that light. To the best I can describe, it appeared like gossamer angel hair often seen on Christmas trees, but it had an internal luminosity that was at once soft, yet vibrant. The light brought a feeling of deliverance and calm reassurance. Fear gave way to the knowledge that we were being protected and delivered from evil by our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
As we watched, the light came down and completely encircled the darkness, lifting it up through the ceiling. As the light approached the ceiling it parted, then closed allowing the light, with the darkness, to pass through. A feeling of joy, peace, love, and protection remained.
After Christmas I returned to Graceland. I was living in the home of Bishop Earl Higdon in Lamoni, Iowa. Several male students occupied bedrooms on the second floor of the home. The first night back at Graceland I again experienced that intense coldness upon entering my room. I had told my roommate about my experience with the dark spirit. When he felt the cold oppressive presence in the room he picked up his things and moved across the hall. In addition to the cold I perceived a darkness in one area of the room. But also present in the room was my beautiful cloud of light.
I reasoned that if the darkness had followed me all the way from southern Missouri to southern Iowa there was no place I could go to escape. But as long as I had my white light to protect me there was no reason to fear. Each night as I went to bed the blackness appeared in one corner and the light in the other, and each night I would pray to God for protection, and then lie down to go to sleep secure in the confidence that Jesus was watching over me. After about a week the dark cloud left and did not return.
No, I shall never forget the night that an evil spirit came to posses me. But I also will always have the knowledge that Jesus loves and protects me.
Ronald W. Brooks
Grain Valley, Missouri
August 6, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Building a House with God - Sallie Presler
Aaron and I had bought an old two-story, 2600 square foot house that had been vacant for a couple of years and started renovating it. It was in sorry condition. In many years of neglect, the yard had become a mess. We hired someone to help us design what would look nice, then we started in. We landscaped. Expensive!
Then we started inside. The kitchen was original, I think. We gutted it and got a new kitchen. Then we pulled up the carpets and refinished the oak floors and just went room by room and redid the whole house, plumbing, electrical, everything.
Through the course of this Dane was born. We had been there almost five years, had almost finished the whole house, when God woke me up one morning and told me to sell the house. Wow, no God, please, it has taken us almost five years to get the house the way we want it. But, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was He speaking to me. I woke up Aaron and told him. He said the same thing about taking five years and all most done, etc. Then he said, "We only have two or three small things to do, let's finish and put it on the market." We did.
We started praying about where God would have us move. I was in real-estate at the time and immediately started looking. We looked in Independence, Lees Summit, Blue Springs, really everywhere. We started making offers.
The second family through our home bought it. We negotiated that we would be able to stay in the house for a month after it closed. We were feverishly looking. And making offers, good offers, not low-dollar. But each one, for one reason or another, never came close to being signed.
My dad wanted us to move to the lake by them, but Aaron and I were city people and didn't want to live that far out of town. But, dad kept insisting that we come look at a lot down the street from him. So one Sunday we drove out and after lunch went to look at the lot. It was not at all what we wanted. Then he insisted that we go talk with Mrs. Wren (her family owned the lake). We called her, she was so sweet and asked us to come over.
Oh my! We drove up into her drive. She had a three-story New England Colonial. We had just sold our two-story New England Colonial. We talked about her house and the house we had just sold. Hers had the same floor plan, just bigger. We really hit it off well. She brought out huge maps of the lake and put them out on her twelve-foot dinning room table. She showed us a couple of lots that she would sell us. Aaron and I knew nothing of the lake except right where Mom and Dad lived. Mrs. Wren had one lot just four doors down from them. I knew right where it was. It was solid forest, you could not even step off the road. She said that at our expense we would have to make sure there was enough square footage to meet city codes and that there was enough fall to attach on to the sewer. But, she would sell it to us for $3,000. What a deal. I knew a surveyor and a plumber. And it had plenty of square footage and just enough fall.
We began frantically looking for a floor plan. I worked with several builders and had huge piles of house plan books. We looked through them many times trying to find one that we liked. None of them seemed right. Then one morning, I had awakened and was sitting in bed praying. As I finished, I reached down to the floor and picked up one of the books that we had been through many times. I flopped it open, there was the perfect floor plan! I called Aaron and told him that I had found a floor plan. He didn't ask anything about it, just said, "Call and order the plans."
We moved just the necessities into a very small two-bedroom apartment and everything else into storage. We started building almost immediately. I had never contracted a house before, but God knew how. He went before us each step of the way.
Val brought out his big 944 and a skid loader. He taught me how to run both of them and the two of us cleared the lot and dug the basement.
The framers said they would knock off money if we would keep the house cleaned out, so each evening Dane (just turned two) and I would go clean and sweep out the mess the builders had made that day. Dane would pick up all the nails and I would pick up the wood scraps. Then we would sweep. We had a good time doing it. We got him a little hammer and taught him to hammer the nails into Styrofoam.
When the finish carpenter said that he needed the fireplace insert, I got in the car and headed to the fireplace store in Lee's Summit. I pulled into the parking lot, sat there and prayed, "Please show me, Lord. I don't know anything about fireplaces." I walked through the store and came around to the door. I had not heard God speak, so I asked him again. Then I started walking again. As I walked, one seemed to stand out. I asked the price. It was just what we had specked for it. I paid for it had it delivered.
A year after we moved in, my dad came running down the street. He asked what kind of fireplace we had, I told him. "Wow," he said, "How did you know what kind to get? I have just been reading and that was the most perfect fireplace you could have gotten for your home." Hey! God is so good.
On a Friday, the framers said that they only had a half day left, so they would finish up on Monday. That Friday Aaron came home to say that Jeff had just quit at the office. That sent Aaron into a spin. Jeff was his partner and they had three hired. We talked and prayed all weekend. Sunday evening we decided that Monday morning he would give everyone there two months notice, at the end of two months we would move the office to our basement, cutting all overhead and just work from there. So, Monday morning when the framers came to finished, I told them that now we were going to frame out the basement. It would have costs considerable more to have called them back after they had packed up all their tools, not to mention the sheetrockers and everyone else. Perfect timing, God.
I had wanted wood floors, but after pricing them (way out of our budget), had budgeted for carpet and linoleum. As we were nearing that part of the building phase, an old friend called and said that he had started installing wood floors and would like to give me a bid on our home. I laughed and told him that it was way too much. He insisted on coming over and did give us a bid. It was for what I had budgeted for carpet for both floors. Wow again. So we decided we could put in wood floors on the main floor, and live on plywood upstairs for a couple of years until we could save enough to put carpet upstairs. It took more like five years before we could afford flooring upstairs, but, by then I had figured out that I was allergic to duct mites and the worst thing for that is carpeting. What a blessing that we didn't have carpet throughout the house. Our only carpeting is in Dane's room and the guest room. Again, God is so good.
It took me a few months to figure out why God had had us sell the house in town and move. God knew that our house payment in town was $768 a month, our taxes and insurance were high. God knew that Jeff would quit, leaving Aaron holding the lease on the building, all the debt they had incurred setting up business and the continual overhead with the rent and salaries. When we moved the office to the basement of our new home, our house payment was $350 a month with much less in insurance and taxes, no office rent, salaries or overhead. We did have $10,000 in debt to pay, but that was do-able living with such low overhead. Way to go God!
I know there were soooo many more testimonies about the move, but I don't recall them at this moment. I should have written them down at that time.
God is so good. He was there each step of the way. And he will be there for you.
Then we started inside. The kitchen was original, I think. We gutted it and got a new kitchen. Then we pulled up the carpets and refinished the oak floors and just went room by room and redid the whole house, plumbing, electrical, everything.
Through the course of this Dane was born. We had been there almost five years, had almost finished the whole house, when God woke me up one morning and told me to sell the house. Wow, no God, please, it has taken us almost five years to get the house the way we want it. But, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was He speaking to me. I woke up Aaron and told him. He said the same thing about taking five years and all most done, etc. Then he said, "We only have two or three small things to do, let's finish and put it on the market." We did.
We started praying about where God would have us move. I was in real-estate at the time and immediately started looking. We looked in Independence, Lees Summit, Blue Springs, really everywhere. We started making offers.
The second family through our home bought it. We negotiated that we would be able to stay in the house for a month after it closed. We were feverishly looking. And making offers, good offers, not low-dollar. But each one, for one reason or another, never came close to being signed.
My dad wanted us to move to the lake by them, but Aaron and I were city people and didn't want to live that far out of town. But, dad kept insisting that we come look at a lot down the street from him. So one Sunday we drove out and after lunch went to look at the lot. It was not at all what we wanted. Then he insisted that we go talk with Mrs. Wren (her family owned the lake). We called her, she was so sweet and asked us to come over.
Oh my! We drove up into her drive. She had a three-story New England Colonial. We had just sold our two-story New England Colonial. We talked about her house and the house we had just sold. Hers had the same floor plan, just bigger. We really hit it off well. She brought out huge maps of the lake and put them out on her twelve-foot dinning room table. She showed us a couple of lots that she would sell us. Aaron and I knew nothing of the lake except right where Mom and Dad lived. Mrs. Wren had one lot just four doors down from them. I knew right where it was. It was solid forest, you could not even step off the road. She said that at our expense we would have to make sure there was enough square footage to meet city codes and that there was enough fall to attach on to the sewer. But, she would sell it to us for $3,000. What a deal. I knew a surveyor and a plumber. And it had plenty of square footage and just enough fall.
We began frantically looking for a floor plan. I worked with several builders and had huge piles of house plan books. We looked through them many times trying to find one that we liked. None of them seemed right. Then one morning, I had awakened and was sitting in bed praying. As I finished, I reached down to the floor and picked up one of the books that we had been through many times. I flopped it open, there was the perfect floor plan! I called Aaron and told him that I had found a floor plan. He didn't ask anything about it, just said, "Call and order the plans."
We moved just the necessities into a very small two-bedroom apartment and everything else into storage. We started building almost immediately. I had never contracted a house before, but God knew how. He went before us each step of the way.
Val brought out his big 944 and a skid loader. He taught me how to run both of them and the two of us cleared the lot and dug the basement.
The framers said they would knock off money if we would keep the house cleaned out, so each evening Dane (just turned two) and I would go clean and sweep out the mess the builders had made that day. Dane would pick up all the nails and I would pick up the wood scraps. Then we would sweep. We had a good time doing it. We got him a little hammer and taught him to hammer the nails into Styrofoam.
When the finish carpenter said that he needed the fireplace insert, I got in the car and headed to the fireplace store in Lee's Summit. I pulled into the parking lot, sat there and prayed, "Please show me, Lord. I don't know anything about fireplaces." I walked through the store and came around to the door. I had not heard God speak, so I asked him again. Then I started walking again. As I walked, one seemed to stand out. I asked the price. It was just what we had specked for it. I paid for it had it delivered.
A year after we moved in, my dad came running down the street. He asked what kind of fireplace we had, I told him. "Wow," he said, "How did you know what kind to get? I have just been reading and that was the most perfect fireplace you could have gotten for your home." Hey! God is so good.
On a Friday, the framers said that they only had a half day left, so they would finish up on Monday. That Friday Aaron came home to say that Jeff had just quit at the office. That sent Aaron into a spin. Jeff was his partner and they had three hired. We talked and prayed all weekend. Sunday evening we decided that Monday morning he would give everyone there two months notice, at the end of two months we would move the office to our basement, cutting all overhead and just work from there. So, Monday morning when the framers came to finished, I told them that now we were going to frame out the basement. It would have costs considerable more to have called them back after they had packed up all their tools, not to mention the sheetrockers and everyone else. Perfect timing, God.
I had wanted wood floors, but after pricing them (way out of our budget), had budgeted for carpet and linoleum. As we were nearing that part of the building phase, an old friend called and said that he had started installing wood floors and would like to give me a bid on our home. I laughed and told him that it was way too much. He insisted on coming over and did give us a bid. It was for what I had budgeted for carpet for both floors. Wow again. So we decided we could put in wood floors on the main floor, and live on plywood upstairs for a couple of years until we could save enough to put carpet upstairs. It took more like five years before we could afford flooring upstairs, but, by then I had figured out that I was allergic to duct mites and the worst thing for that is carpeting. What a blessing that we didn't have carpet throughout the house. Our only carpeting is in Dane's room and the guest room. Again, God is so good.
It took me a few months to figure out why God had had us sell the house in town and move. God knew that our house payment in town was $768 a month, our taxes and insurance were high. God knew that Jeff would quit, leaving Aaron holding the lease on the building, all the debt they had incurred setting up business and the continual overhead with the rent and salaries. When we moved the office to the basement of our new home, our house payment was $350 a month with much less in insurance and taxes, no office rent, salaries or overhead. We did have $10,000 in debt to pay, but that was do-able living with such low overhead. Way to go God!
I know there were soooo many more testimonies about the move, but I don't recall them at this moment. I should have written them down at that time.
God is so good. He was there each step of the way. And he will be there for you.
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