As I was processing some prophetic pieces with my spiritual father today, the LORD reminded me of a word about the children exposing the fathers. I finally found it. I released this very vulnerable and transparent word to the Glory Party August 2019. The timing of what is happening NOW with all the exposures the LORD is aligning is not coincidental. May it explain WHY the exposures need to happen and bring hope to what is on the other side of the exposures and help alleviate any shame from those who have felt like they have blown it beyond redemption. As for a follow-up, we went a full 27 months without a family vehicle and still do not have the physical PACIFICA vehicle yet, although a different prophetic word about a vehicle did come to pass in the interim. What happened Passover 2020? COVID-19 lockdowns and fathers were required to become the priests of their HOMES instead of pastors paid by the church system.
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This goes against the grain of everything I’ve ever been taught growing up in a missionary family / church system culture, but Sunday morning while doing morning kitchen cleanup, the LORD directed me to write & release a transparent, vulnerable family newsletter with the Glory Party invite for Rosh Chodesh Elul – Saturday, Aug 31st @ 6:30pm, still here at [my address]. Elul is the month where we are to run to the King in the field, with unrestricted access. A month to fix what has been broken and restore that nurturing intimacy. A few months ago, the LORD was teaching me about the 4 levels to get to intimacy – Access, Transparency, Trust, Intimacy. Too often, Facebook & the media glamorizes the picture-perfect moments (or all the negative points for those under the influence of a victim spirit) leaving us with a skewed perception of reality. This results in the inability to develop true koinonia in the body of Christ or even within marriages & families because the fear and shame of being “found out as not good enough”. Feeling like a failure blocks us from lowering our masks and entering into true relationship that endures through the good and messy times of life. Pastors are taught to not be transparent because the sheep will painfully chew them out the moment, they see a sign of weakness but then they burn out from the lack of true relationships. The congregation puts their pastor on an idolized pedestal then either flips them into performance & perfectionism on one end competing with trying to be holier than the pastor or victim mode thinking they’ll never be able to do what the pastor does so don’t even bother trying while he’s being crushed by the load never intended for one man. God designed the body of Christ to operate as a family that loves unconditionally and each member doing their part, not a bunch of sin-calloused businessmen behind masks.
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We are home from a 2.5 wks. vacation to Newfoundland! What a roller coaster of an experience! We were given the opportunity that if we could find the funds to fly our family to the island, my parents offered my grandfather’s 2003 van turned father’s van as an early inheritance to drive home in. It was just sitting in storage while they were on the mission field so might as well get some use out of it. I immediately knew in my spirit the van was a “carrot” and an “Ishmael” but at the same time, we also knew the way the details were unfolding, they were also lining up perfectly with a dream I had many months ago and we were to proceed with accepting the offer. The time had come to go tear down the high places in my family line and confront the giants that were occupying the city on the hill that was supposed to be filled with light.
Two years ago, we accepted God’s offer of spiritual boot camp to prepare us to step into office, should we pass the training season (and that wasn’t guaranteed!). My thinking was that I would rather endure 2 years of intensive training & pruning & character development than la-de-da through 40 years before I could step into my destiny. Ha! I had no clue what we were signing up for! For those of you who aren’t close enough to be in the know, it was 19 months ago in Feb 2018 that God directed us to GIVE away our fully functional 19 yr old family van (with lots of TLC, mind you) – with a family of 6. It didn’t make any logical sense, and we took much flack over such a “foolish” decision, but God confirmed His instructions 7 times over and has repeatedly confirmed numerous times during the painful pruning journey we’ve been on since. God blessed us with several lump sum gifts from various sources as well as a pay raise that enabled us to save up the money to purchase a replacement van then tested us as we were repeatedly instructed NOT to buy our own van nor accept the 2 offers of heavily used vans but rather, keep giving the money away to buy 2 other people vehicles and 2 airplane/tour tickets to Israel for a reverend and her husband, that COULD easily afford their own tickets…confronting the poverty mindset deeply ingrained by church life, and then fund a myriad of other things, and TRUST God would GIVE us our new 8 seater Pacifica when the fullness of time arrived and meet our needs in the meantime during the season of waiting.
Although we obeyed, I confess we did so with much chaffing, whining, and emotional temper tantrums during the refining of true needs vs wants, a few times caving and trying to find a way to get a van under our own strength only to be met with an obstacle that reminded us why we were in this journey to begin with, wondering WHEN our time would come. It still hasn’t, although a brand-new maroon 8-seater Pacifica arrived in our neighbor’s yard last week – talk about a roller coaster of excitement in my children’s eyes they watched it slowed down to turn down the road then dashed their hopes as it pulled into the WRONG driveway! You don’t know what is in the bottom of your coffee cup until you’ve been squeezed to smithereens and discover there were some hidden dregs down there you didn’t see floating at the top. Everyone must go through the testing of the bitter waters of Mara to expose where our true loyalties lie – to our flesh and MY wants or contented obedience to God, no matter how much it hurts even to the point of death.
I traveled to Toronto airport alone with our 4 children (2-11 yrs) while my husband flew into Toronto from his Edmonton work trip. Based on all the comments and stares, I discovered traveling alone with 4 little children was akin to a freak show in society today. We then flew the rest of the way together to Deer Lake, NFLD to meet up with my parents that were home on a brief furlough aligned to attend our family clan reunion, where the 4 living generations of roughly 200 people who could travel gathered from all over the world (Chile, Qatar, Laos, USA, Canada, and probably others I didn’t hear about).
It was our best trip to Newfoundland, as this time I was much more aware of my developing gift of discernment and the ability to pick up on atmospheres and people’s junk in their trunk and lovely gift of “innocent exposure” where I expose something through a God-placed testimony that exposes a sore spot or ungodly belief in someone and their inevitable retaliatory claws of pride. It was also the first trip that I wasn’t puking my guts up. Every time we show up in Newfoundland, I have a penchant of being pregnant. Newfoundland has extreme spiritual oppression, in part due to the high-level Freemasonry (satanic worship with blood covenants to Lucifer disguised as a “good works” in the public eye and even within churches because the heavy use of twisted scripture & biblical wording in their satanic vows) that entered Newfoundland through Harbour Grace’ first wooden masonic lodge in 1867.
After being secluded in the wilderness cave with the LORD that our home became during our 19 months of no family vehicle, it was a shock to be thrown into the environment at the family reunion with finely tuned spiritual senses. I confess, I did NOT handle it well as I did not have the capacity nor maturity developed to handle the spiritual overload. What do you do when everyone is sharing accolades of multi-generational spiritual inheritances of intercession & travail, entrepreneurial anointings, building anointings, multiplication anointings, extravagant generosity, Joseph anointings within international governmental spheres, the ability to persevere and grow where no one else could and growing churches in impossible ground, minstrel anointings, while under the surface there is flaring’s of rampant witchcraft, rebellion, anger, shame, performance, perfectionism, fear, Jezebel, sexual perversion, and the list goes on. How do you not shed tears when you feel the agonizing grief of the Holy Spirit of not being allowed to be the comforter of those who claim to be God’s children yet cling to their sin? Some knew their bondage and held extreme levels of shame that kept their outward smiling masks of inward shrapnel slicing against their souls in silent bloody torture. Others were ignorant of their bondage because the burns of their sin had developed such a thick nerveless scars snaking over their hearts and minds. The outward picture in the natural presented beautifully coiffed hair, fancy attire, and lip sticked smiles. The spiritual sight, on the other hand, was horrifying, impossible to steel myself from reacting, drawing much criticism and condemnation from those who had no grid for spiritual sight. I learned the hard lesson that you don’t need to defend yourself to your friends and you’ll never win a defense against your enemies. Best to simply shut up and let God be our defense.
How did we deteriorate to this, a family of 7 generations of God’s ministers that have done enough to fill a bookshelf of books listing out impressive, jaw-dropping, death-defying accomplishments done in the name of Jesus Christ, while being deceived into thinking we could pretend everything under the rug was perfect before a Holy God who sees it all? It brought into sharp contrast the reality that although the curses brought in by the iniquity of the fathers pour down to the 3rd and 4th generations, the blessings still flow down to 1000 times because God Himself remembers His covenant with our forefathers and not because we earned them. Did Manasseh ever ponder how he ended up being dragged off to Babylon with hooks and brass fetters for his pride, despite having such a godly father in King Hezekiah?
During the many special speakers during the group dinner, the LORD confirmed an even stronger pattern of the untimely death of the first born sons than what I had already discovered – a pattern we see in scripture for those living in idolatry and those living in Egypt under a rebellious Pharaoh. Then in the 4th generation, the curse of Eli landed. Despite the ungodly belief that curses no longer affect Christians, the evidence is all around us. Simply look at how many sore hips & knees, heart attacks, deafness, blindness, unable to enjoy our children, losing our spouses to another, & bankruptcy line the pews then go take a hard read of Deuteronomy 28. Only the delusional will still declare that Christians can’t be cursed. But then again, those who don’t love the truth end up under a strong delusion which is where much of the body of Christ without discernment is sitting these days. Curses will come upon us, pursue us, overtake us, then finally destroy us if we do not obey God’s commandments. Simply quoting scripture that Jesus paid the penalty for the curse of the law isn’t enough while we are still actively holding onto our iniquity. Not a single biological son was born alive to the 9 living children in my father’s generation to carry on the family name. The stark reality was made very clear during the reunion – My family name will be no more. The judgment of a Holy God upon those who did not steward His glory with righteousness and reverence is most severe to the ones who used to be closest to His glory. However, in the midst of the judgment upon Eli’s clan, it was in Eli’s house that God mercifully placed Samuel to be raised, the prophet whose words never fell to the ground. The goodness that remained in Eli, despite the loss of his backbone to discipline his rebellious children and his ability to hear God’s voice, was poured into Samuel before the stump was finally uprooted for good. Worldly logic & common sense need to be tossed out the window when it comes to Kingdom thinking and let God be God.
Let us not be deceived into thinking that just because blessings, anointings, and giftings manifesting in and through us that they are evidence of a healthy loving relationship with our Abba Father. Do not allow our birthright to the priestly line seduce us into thinking we can get away with not walking in and training our progeny and flocks to walk in the Fear of the LORD. Nadab and Abihu were with Moses and the 70 elders who saw God with sapphire stone beneath his feet on Mount Sinai and yet still were destroyed for offering strange fire to God. We will know that we love, abide, and know God and will receive eternal life WHEN we obey God’s commandments as both the Old AND New Testament scriptures declare, not when we fill a bookshelf in the guise of serving Christ while refusing to allow the Comforter to comfort us by exposing and removing our shameful sin and making us white as snow. We must be doers of the Word and not hearers only, deceiving ourselves. The dichotomy of what I was hearing vs what I was seeing caused me to lose my footing, flailing around trying to return to blissful ignorance but unable to do so, and finally shutting down. What can be shaken will be shaken.
Yet in the midst of my shattered perception of a family legacy to be proud of, feeling completely unmoored, and feeling like the scum of the earth for seeing what I saw & shutting down the way I did, wondering how on earth does one continue to honor their mothers and fathers of past generations after that kind of exposure, God still called our family to go do spiritual warfare in Harbour Grace, where I had blood ties to the Wesleyan Revival from the 1700’s, the Freemasons’ first lodge built in Newfoundland in the 1800’s, and the old military airstrip/base that I still don’t know what sins and defilement were committed there. From there, we went on to Cape Spear, the easternmost point in Canada and North America, reopening spiritual portals that the enemy had usurped for many generations. It’s not a matter of how “anointed” you feel or even if you feel “qualified” or even if you fully understand your role in the grander scheme of things. Any semblance of self-accomplishment or pride in my budding gifting was completely destroyed during the reunion. I wanted to run from it and erase from my memory what I had seen & felt. It’s whether God has called you to the task and will you obey? Are you willing to face the giants in the city on a hill with boldness and courage simply because He said, “Go!”, even if all you have in your hand is a shofar, a few worship flags, a list of decrees and standing in the gap for generational repentance in brokenness, trusting that God has your back and your front and everywhere surrounding you as you step into a high level warlock’s hornets’ nest? Will you believe your feelings of incompetence or believe what God has spoken, that God would send supernatural bodyguards before me, even when everyone else said I was crazy? Will you, a “nobody”, confront the leader of one of the largest churches in the region with the fact that they had surrendered their church altar to a strutting demon adorned with black rags because their elders gave it away by clinging to their iniquity while portraying a semblance of holiness and that angels that would have open deaf ears, blind eyes, and brought healing to the converted were standing outside the foyer doors forbidden by the church leadership’s slumbering unbelief from entering the church? Welcome to having a calling that requires a surrendered head upon a platter!
In the midst of the spiritual warfare occurring throughout Newfoundland from one coast to the other, my family still had the privilege of enjoying the special benefits of temporal life. Poppy teaching them how to fish – out catching Poppy’s rainbow trout record with a 13.5” fish length, learning how to paddle a skidoo that ran out of gas on a tidal river, picking wild berries in the bush, seeing bear/moose/caribou/Newfie-sized mosquitoes (picture a twoonie!) within a 45 minute window, falling into the Atlantic Ocean while obediently holding too tightly onto the moving net netting the black rolling waves filled with hundreds of little capelin fish, sleeping over at the cottage wearing Nanny’s oversized fleecy pajamas, riding on Uncle M.’s swanky motorcycle, shooting Poppy’s pellet gun and hitting the bullseye repeatedly to boot!, roasting marshmallows in an old washer barrel-turned-fire pit, snapping a 4 generation photo, discovering my old ballet tutu and ballet shoes in Great-nan’s storage garage that now loosely fit my 4 yr old, baking cookies & pies & mini-cheesecakes with Nanna, killing bugs while peeing in the bush, getting stung by wasps in Harbour Grace and the kind ladies in the RV that gave us their tooth paste to quickly treat the stings, gathering heart-shaped rocks and washed up seal bones from the Atlantic Ocean, discovering the feeling of sand for the first time between 2 yr old tootsies, and watching Auntie J. salvaging and transforming Great-Nan’s antique quilt that was destined for the dump into a new masterpiece – joining the salvaged pieces of goodness with the new to create an even stronger, more beautiful creation.
That’s what God does with us. He painstakingly cuts away the shredded pieces that are beyond repair while restoring that which remains when others deem the rags worthy for the dump. He never tosses out the good with the bad, but rather invests the time to prune away each corrupt crazy quilted piece that did not stand the test of time, removing the foundation that disintegrated like threads of sand in a storm, while shoring up that which remains by lovingly relaying a solid foundation underneath. He prunes away the death to strengthen the life that remains and only uproots the dead stumps. Although I did not want to endure a 3rd day of spiritual exposure, God warned me I must attend the Sunday reunion service or get spanked myself. I was to write the senior pastor what the LORD was revealing, and their “prescription” to start the restoration process should they be willing to repent of their spiritual sickness and walk into healing.
After the van was deemed safe by a local mechanic, we departed the Rock via ferry with a van that had barely a spot of rust visible on its well-maintained body despite it’s 16 yrs of age and minimal mileage. We stayed with a Candle hospitality family in Nova Scotia who provided a much needed spiritual respite. The presence and freedom of God was so strong in their home that we cancelled a touring spot and delayed our departure several hours to simply enjoy their fellowship and healing for our souls, while ministering prophetically to them, highlighting the purpose for them being on the out-in-left-field journey and confirming their upcoming transition and purpose in their new locale. The contrast was so drastic compared to the spiritual oppression in Newfoundland. I’ve heard it repeated all my life across Canada, America, and overseas that the best pastors and missionaries come from Newfoundland. Probably because if they can survive that spiritual oppression and not crumble, they can survive anything!
From there we went to PEI to spend a few days with another Candle hospitality home. It was so filled with the presence and pure transparent worship of God without need for titles, papers, or man-given hierarchal approval. Again, the contrast was highlighted. Here, the giftings of God were immediately recognized and drawn upon. It’s been a long time that a believer has been able to pull so strongly on the flow of living waters. They ministered healing to our battle wounds while we confirmed prophetically why God had been doing what He’d been doing and will be doing for their family. As usual, my “innocent exposure” was in full force as I shared one testimony after another, exposing those hidden sore spots that God wanted them to deal with before they stepped into their new season. Sharing vulnerably and sorting out the upheaval of Newfoundland with them, the grandpa shook his head and said, “Let me know the address to send the flowers for your funeral. I’ve been around enough pastors and church leadership to know they’ll roast you alive if you try to confront their sin. I’ve had my fair share of roasting.” My response was, “Do we love our brothers in Christ enough to lay down our lives and confront them in their sin before it’s too late to repent? Are we willing to be kicked out of churches on the chance that if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth? What is their eternal soul worth?” The generation under Moses painfully discovered when they refused to enter the Promised Land due to thinking they were grasshoppers in the eyes of the giants that there does come a time when repentance is too late. Is this why we are in the spiritual mess our generation is in? Because the previous generations, like King Saul, loved self-preservation and the approval of men more than exacting obedience to God’s commandments and the spiritual welfare of their brothers?
The good news is that God is releasing a generation of exposers that love God and their neighbor more than life itself, even if the lancing or outright amputation of the spreading gangrene feels cruel at the time. The sad reality is – what have we left to lose? A read through Leviticus 26 and Hosea 6 show us our sorry fate if we continue to sit by and do nothing. Canada has dropped to 4% of born again believers in my generation and Quebec is now on the least reached people’s groups list – a country that has sent thousands of missionaries now need missionaries sent to us because we did not faithfully steward the Fear of the LORD from one generation to the next. A generation that has grown up in the know of the hypocrisy will be willing to lance the spiritual boils in the church in order to bring deep healing to the body of Christ and a restoration of the identity that shame, fear and control have stolen. For where we tolerate a pocket of pus in one area of the body long enough, eventually it makes the entire body septic. It will be the forced exposure of the younger generation that will save many of the older generations by snatching them out of the fire.
Several years ago, it was the innocent question of my firstborn as I was teaching her how to read with the Bible as our textbook that forced me to confront the emptiness of religious tradition – “Mom, if the Bible says this and we are to obey the Bible, why aren’t we doing it? If God promises things in the Bible, why aren’t we seeing it?” Would I cling to my stubbornness, to my pride, my traditions, and the resulting excuses to cover for the incongruences they create that my upbringing had to be right because “that’s the way it’s always been done” and “my parents were missionaries! Of course they were right!” or chose to walk an unknown path contrary to my religious upbringing as I did my best to answer my daughter and line up with obedience to God’s word for what it actually said, and not what church said it said? Many will be faced with the valley of decision before the end of the year. You will see surprising course corrections coming from the most unlikely of places as God works on cutting away the ragged threads of people’s hearts and sutures their foundations back into His word.
On our travels homeward bound back across Quebec, God continued to confirm that He was indeed still on the throne and that I was still in His hand despite my brokenness and loss of footing. God ordained a perfectly timed intersection with a timely scream from my little one just as an old friend, who was pivotal in me receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit many years ago, pulled into the huge parking lot so he knew where to find us. J God will use the most embarrassing, humbling moments to bring about His perfect timing. We were both able to be us, without any masks on, flowing in our individual spiritual gifts to encourage the other. Life had been difficult for both of us the last couple of years but we parted ways knowing that God was still very much at work through our surrendered brokenness.
Our final stop before home was with another Candle family renting a retreat center-like cabin up in the outback of Ontario an hour away from Ottawa. Me being me, I took over their kitchen and began cleaning their dishes as I spoke. I shared what God had been showing me, both the warnings for those that refuse to repent of the sins of Jeroboam and the promises of restoration to come for those who returned to obeying His commandments. They just so happened to be renting from one of the leadership of the first Pentecostal church built in Ontario, that once had a pillar of fire resting on it like Azusa street back in its heyday. Their landlord was present during my chattering away. It was confirmation of what they had already received and brought a fresh spark of hope. They had been battling over the prophetic word that revival would once again burn in Ontario when the church returned to God’s commandments once again, reigniting their love for God from their hearts. The battle had been so intense for so long that they had all but given up in hopelessness and despair of ever seeing the manifestation during their lifetime (they were in their 80’s by my guestimate).
As we prepared to leave for the final leg home, my husband felt prompted to hit pause and join our hosts by going to church with them instead of the original plan to get up and head straight home that morning. As we stepped into a nearly vacant church, I heard the words “death dirge”, “A smoking flax I won’t snuff out, now DANCE! They are sleeping on the graves of the greats. It’s time to wake them up!” The country church surrounded by corn fields had maybe 25 people left, including us and our host family of 9 that happened to be visiting there that day. My attention was drawn to a little bin of children’s flags proving they would open to prophetic dance, so I ran out to grab my worship flags the LORD had me pack before we left. The pastor looked so forlorn with my request but gave me permission to dance. I felt like I had sea legs, turning green around the gills, as if the flags were dead weights but I flailed around like a chicken with my head cut off to the LORD, knowing from experience that true worship from the heart, regardless how awkward it looked, would punch through the sleep of death. After the 3rd flag change, the LORD broke through and I was suddenly leaping with the flags flying through the air with grace and power in the back of this nearly empty church, moving my body in ways that I KNOW are physically impossible especially in my current condition (and would pay for later!). Those of you who prophetically dance know what I mean when that shift happens. It was only after my mind swallowed the bait of the thought of, “How on earth is my body moving like this???” that I lost the flow and was back in my own strength on very wobbly sea legs. As the service transitioned on to preaching, I stepped out to the foyer with the littles so their noise wouldn’t interrupt the speaker. That’s when I discovered that THIS church was the Landlord’s church! Don’t you love God-ordained coincidences that happen when we obey God’s commandments, first the logos and then the rhema? Our mission we didn’t even know we had been on was finally complete. We were released to finally finish our journey home.
The day after we arrived home, the safety inspection commenced in order to proceed with having the van ownership transferred into our name. It was then that Ishmael finally manifested its true colors. Despite its deceiving exterior, the metal substructure of the van was rotten to the core, riddled with rusted out holes and no amount of work would make it pass the Ontario safety inspection. The mechanic was surprised it survived the 4900km trip home without splitting into two, let alone being considered road worthy by the first mechanic. It was advised we not even drive it around the city let alone take it on the highway again. God will conceal what He needs concealed for a season until His purposes reach fruition then He reveals the hidden things to bring Himself total glory. We were back to being vanless. It was interesting to note that upon revealing this to one of our prayer partners, she exclaimed, “Oh that’s what you traveling on a magic carpet was all about!” While praying for us, she had a vision that angels were carrying us on a magic carpet safely home and knew she had to intercede for our traveling mercies. Someone else felt prompted to share an angelic encounter with us after we voiced some concerns about the odd noises we were hearing during our journey about a vision he had about traveling in an old vehicle. The angel told him, “She’s old, but she’ll hold.”
The reality hit home that my early inheritance, despite my father’s well-meant intentions, was a whitewashed tomb that was filled with death. Although he did his due diligence of having the van checked in the first place and trusting the discernment of the “professional”, its house was resting on a pile of rusty sand. My inheritance wasn’t worth receiving. This was the reason God had asked us to give away our vehicle 19 months ago and wait for Him to GIVE us a NEW vehicle. It wasn’t just a literal vehicle we gave up – a rusty, high maintenance, high mileage Sport Caravan –but I, by default of no way to get there, had to give up the church system my family line for 7 generations had labored to build.
So if this journey was a lesson in what we were walking away from, what will the NEW look like? God clearly told us we were not getting an Odyssey, the vehicle I preferred on the test drive but rather a Maroon Pacifica, because we have discovered by now that everything in our lives is a prophetic picture. The Odyssey means “Child of Anger” and gutless in my husband’s opinion, as he was the one behind the wheel. Pacifica is Spanish for tranquil, or peace, and had a powerful SUV engine under a van body. The Pacifica is fully powered – the main reason the mommy in me didn’t like it – what happens if the battery dies and we’re trapped inside??? Can you tell the battery died one too many times in our old van? =8-o Everything has a button, from opening a door to turning the car on to loading the groceries. We wouldn’t have to open a single door by hand – they all automatically open before us with a jolt of power, without any effort on our part beyond a touch of a button. The new ministry would be fully powered by the Holy Spirit and MUST remain connected to the True power source to maintain functionality or be dead in the water. The Pacifica would have a portable vacuum in the back – onboard deliverance ministry to maintain cleanliness along the journey. It would have 8 seats, which we will need to hold all of us by Passover 2020. 8 is the number for new beginnings and more significantly, being born again when one is resurrected by the baptism of the Holy Spirit and regenerated into eternal life. Philip gave the Samaritans the salvation gospel, but the job wasn’t complete until Peter & John came to fill them with the Holy Spirit. (Acts 8:5-17). The disciples of John weren’t born again until Paul filled them with the Holy Spirit, and they spoke with tongues and prophesied. (Acts 19:1-6) A van is a family vehicle, indicating our ministry would be to families, especially to the restoration of a Jezebel led generation that needs hope that a loving marriage and healthy, peaceful family dynamics CAN be restored to broken homes with enough humility and perseverance. The color maroon is the coler of oxygenated blood – applying the blood in a way that actually brings life, with true repentance that brings transformation instead of a powerless rote prayer. How can anyone truly confess their sin, comprehend the reality of debt of sin and receive the steep payment of Jesus blood for their debts, and repent if they don’t know what sin is nor the debt of that sin is in the first place? How can they walk in victorious power if they’ve never truly been born again by the power of the Holy Spirit? How can they love, know, and abide with the Heavenly Father if they’ve never been taught His commandments or how to hear His voice? These foundational principles are not taught in the church system because they don’t tickle the ears and wouldn’t fly in a government-controlled business model that demands tolerance.
While we are back to the waiting as hard as it is, the last 19 months and again this trip confirmed that God has our logistics perfectly in the palm of His hand. As I end this off, Spotify’s Daily mix just started playing, “I can trust Jesus.” by the Collingsworth Family.
God picked up a sparrow
That could no longer fly
He brushed off his wounds
And then watched it soar into the sky
If He’s mindful of creation
On this I can depend
I am His child
And I can place all my trust in Him
I can trust Jesus
I can trust Jesus
He never once has failed
To meet my needs
He is my strong tow’r
The strength in my weakest hour
I can trust Jesus
He takes care of me
I have prayed some prayers
And felt they never were heard
But I held to God’s hand
And kept right on trusting in His words
My wants and God’s desires
Don’t always agree
But I lean on His will
For He always know what’s best for me
I can trust Jesus
I can trust Jesus
He bever once has failed
To meet my needs
He is my strong tow’r
The strength in my weakest hour
I can trust Jesus
He takes care of me
He is my strong tow’r
The strength in my weakest hour
I can trust Jesus
He takes care of me
I can trust Jesus
He takes care of me
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