Category Archives: Gifts of the Spirit

June 1, 2014 · 8:35 am

Inside Israel

Once again, it’s time to hear from our sister in Jerusalem about what she is witnessing there as a believer in Yeshua. Put your prayer shawls on and pray for Israel and Sister J. Now here she is …

Blessings with Love in The precious Name above all names, Yeshua h’meshiach, Jesus Christ. May HE be blessed and glorified and may you be edified, blessed and found of Him in His peace.

Whew!

The Pope came and went and it was QUITE a study in Jewish psychology to see and hear the responses. Yesterday, the streets were empty in my part of Jerusalem. We went shopping in Talpiot, a neighborhood in the South East of the city that is usually booming with people, but we just zipped through empty streets and stores.

TODAY, on the other hand, the streets and stores are full and happy. Tonight begins JERUSALEM DAY, marking the anniversary of that mystical, miraculous, wonderful day in 1967 when suddenly Israel found Jerusalem in our hands again, for the first time in 2,000 years. The wonder of it does not cease to amaze me, although the world tries its best to at least put a damper on the joy. May they not win, but may their eyes be open to come and share in the rejoicing.

AND dairy products are being bought by the ton as women begin to bake and bake and BAKE, mostly cheesecakes. Yep, in preparation for Shavuot (Pentecost) which arrives next Tuesday night: Shavuot being one of the THREE high holy days during which God commanded all the men of Israel to come up to Jerusalem and rejoice before Him at the temple. Shavuot was NOT commanded to be a sacrifice of milk (although you might think so by the tradition of eating only milk products and dressing in white), but to present the first loaves of bread baked with grain from the new harvest, as a wave offering with thanksgiving to the priest.

Ok. That was the introduction. Now to elaborate:

Two other popes have visited us since we have lived here. In both of those cases there was actually quite a bit of excitement and curiosity within Israel among the Jews. Now please understand: I am trying to describe something that might be hard to grasp for many of you. This calls for a very quick, and very inadequate history lesson given by me…NOT an authority, but only sharing what I know as a Jew and from my own experiences.

Even today, most Jews do not REALLY know the difference (or think that there is any) between Catholics, Protestants, other orthodox sects and even Mormonism for that matter. The history of relations between Catholics and Jews goes back to the Roman destruction of the temple, the dispersion and the separation of the early Church (about 120 years after it’s inception, I believe) from the original Jewish believers.

Persecution grew and continued growing with the Church of those days establishing that Jews were cursed of God as Christ killers. OF COURSE there has ALWAYS been a remnant that knew and understood the ways of God and sought Him, but I am sharing from the perspective of non-believing Jews. On came the Inquisition, pogroms, countless banishments and dispersions.

When I was a child I recall being accosted by three of my small girlfriends, Roman Catholics, on their communion day, in their white dresses, telling me that I had killed Jesus. Let’s put it this way − relations between Catholics and Jews were not good.

However, in 1948 with the establishment of the modern State of Israel, a problem was posed. If the Jews were cursed with no chance of redemption, how did THIS happen? Well, I’m not an authority on the Catholic church nor desire to become one, but there has been since 1948 a roadway of dialogue and reconciliation.

Ok. Let’s get on with it. This pope is not perceived as someone who likes Israel. The other two were. There was a great deal of nervousness on the part of most Israelis about his coming. He was going to Jordan first and then arriving in the Palestinian Authority by way of Beit Lechem (Bethlehem), circumventing Israel.

Only after that would he come to Israel. He has an obvious dislike for our Prime Minister and prefers to speak to President Peres, the very liberal figurehead of the country who is NOT supposed to have any political influence. In the midst of this, a growing number of angry Jewish youth from the settlement movement on our political right have been carrying out “price tag attacks” and vandalizing Palestinian and Israeli Arab property, often leaving very hurtful graffiti at random every time a Jewish community or home is destroyed as illegal. (I suspect that you don’t hear of such things in the press, but only about the demolition of illegal Arab housing, right?). There have been recent such attacks against some churches and there was fear that the Pope might be targeted.

THIS IS MY POINT: I was shocked and moved by the reaction of the people from my vantage point in Jerusalem during this visit. As I said, streets were deserted. People on the bus or train were all looking downward and they looked sad. I asked The Lord, “What is this?”

As I looked I realized that I was seeing the face of shame. The impression that I got was not that this was the sort of shame that leads to repentance, but the shame that comes from condemnation. I didn’t expect that, but I saw downtrodden souls. I saw a people ashamed that they exist and I KNOW that feeling. I remember it well. I am so thankful to be FREE from it, completely, in Yeshua, but I do remember the feeling. It was a feeling that my very existence, as a Jew, was repulsive to the world and a mistake. I could do nothing right, and that just when I THOUGHT I was doing something right, I would then find out I was wrong. My fault again! The world would be better without me.

This is what I saw around me and the people hid in their houses. Oh, you could say that we were warned of traffic jams and told that there would be disruptions, but I have REALLY seen enough of those over the past 20 years to know that it rarely keeps people inside.

The pope left and was not injured while he was here, thankfully, and there was a collective sigh of relief.

And things were DIFFERENT this morning on the train. The train was JAMMED with young people in their 20s, huge backpacks and sun tanned faces, long walking sticks and smiles. “Are you here for Jerusalem Day?” I asked one of them.

“We are walking the Israel Trail, but wanted to be in Jerusalem for the celebrations. Those over there have walked from the North for Jerusalem Day.”

A young man smiled. “Well, we have only been walking for 2 days,” he said apologetically.

An older man sitting across from me also enjoyed them. “So why are you on the train? Get out and walk.”

The joy caught on and I looked around at the people who had fought in the siege of Jerusalem, at those who had heard the shofar sound at the Western Wall, and at those who read the Psalm with such wonder: “Our feet are standing within your gates O Jerusalem….”

Jerusalem is a mystery. We did not intend to live in Jerusalem when we made aliyah. We intended to live in the country, NOT a city and certainly NOT Jerusalem. But I have found that what is said of her is true: “No one can choose to live in Jerusalem…Jerusalem chooses who she will.”

In the Psalms, the “song’s of ascent” are the Psalms that are (and were) sung as the tribes went up to Jerusalem at the appointed times. I understand that in 1967 when it was heard that Jerusalem was in our hands that the people were told to stay away at first because the war was so difficult and no one knew if it was really over. But the people could not be stopped. They just began walking and kept walking from all over the country and every direction they came up to Jerusalem.

I love to listen to the stories told of that day among our patients. One lived under the old city wall, (many poor people lived under the wall) but had never been inside the old city. Her mother told her, “Tamima. Stay down! Do not go out!” But she said that she heard OUR soldiers and she just ran out and followed them.

Sari Sapir was a young reporter and followed the troops in. She saw a very large ancient key fall to the ground and picked it up and ran after the Arab who dropped it saying, “Sir, sir! You dropped your key!”

The Lord had put such a fear into them that they ran when they didn’t need to. She showed me the key once when I was at her house, about a foot long. How ancient it is I cannot venture to guess.

Tomorrow there will be dancing. They call it “the flag dance” as the streets will be full of people dancing with the flag. I love Jerusalem day. I love the feeling of delight at something so much bigger then us, something that God hath done.

What will be tomorrow? We do not know. Not with this city that the world wants to divide − the stone of stumbling and the rock of offense, the place that God chose to put His Name. Why? Because.

Jerusalem day approaches.

As does Shavuot a week from tonight.

ANSWERS TO PRAYERS: Thank you SO much, those of you who took up the burden that I shared with you in my last email concerning the stillborn Baby and parents so new at seeking Him. And for my daughter…

My daughter told me that the funeral was completely centered on The Lord and that the Mother picked out worship songs to be played. They are turning to HIM for comfort. Our daughter had an unexpected outpouring of love from friends, world wide who didn’t even know about what was going on. It was unprecedented for her and it riveted her attention on Him and she was availed of the strength and provision that He had for her. I want to give HIM glory for answered prayer and to thank you so very much for your love in His Spirit.

I also want to say before I close that my words are not polished, and I am neither a prophet, teacher nor an expert in anything, but the words are an offering to Him and my sole intent is to glorify Him and bless the body as a witness in a place that most of you can not live in. I want to be faithful in what He has called me to do but I am aware that my limitations might bring offense to someone sometime. I am open to challenges or criticisms in His Spirit, so if I do offend you, please tell me how. May we all be found faithful and walking more and more in His Light and His Truth as we see the day rapidly approaching.

Lovingly,

your sister J

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May 30, 2014 · 10:30 am

Friday’s Prayers for Prisoners (5/30/2014)

A few years ago, I had a vision which demanded a decision.

In it, I visited a dark, smelly prison cell in North Korea. A young Christian woman was the only prisoner there. She had been repeatedly raped, beaten, tormented, and abused. The cell was freezing cold because it was winter time. She wore a tattered, thin dress and had no blankets to protect her from the frigid temperatures. She ate rice husks and was starving to death. A bucket in the corner was her toilet. Rats scampered around her feet.

My level of Christianity could do little to help her. She needed something more than a big smile, a pat on the back, and a “Just trust Jesus ” from me.

As I stood there, the Holy Spirit spoke to me. “Will you trade places with her?”

If the young lady had been standing in front of a firing squad, I would have gladly volunteered without hesitation. I am not afraid of death, but that was not the case.

The horrible conditions paralyzed my tongue.

If I could have, I would have rebooted the vision to anywhere but that rat-infested cell. I wanted to yell, “No. Find someone else to take her place. I will pray for her and give extra money to missionaries, but this it too much to ask from me.”

Somehow, I remembered my words to the Lord on the day He saved me. I asked Him to send me to the places no one else wanted to go to. What could I do?

“I trust You, Lord. I will take her place,” I whispered through sobs.

The vision ended.

Today, I prayed:

Lord, help us American believers to remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since we are also in the body. (Based on Hebrews 13:3)

What do you think and has the Lord spoken to you?

Join with me on Fridays to fast and pray for prisoners, according to Hebrews 13:3.

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May 29, 2014 · 8:53 am

Vacation Bible School? Really?

I grew up on a farm in Northern Illinois and attended a small one-room schoolhouse from first grade through fifth grade. The friends I played baseball with in the summertime attended a much larger grade school in Forreston, seven miles from our farm. These friends invited me to Vacation Bible School because we wanted to spend more time together.

In my case, the one thing I took away from Vacation Bible School was one Bible verse:

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

Maybe you’re not impressed with my retention of just one verse, right?

Yet, Bill Hamon once said that if an atheist spoke John 3:16 to a stadium filled with thousands of atheists, God would honor His word and someone would get saved. That is the power of John 3:16.

Over the following thirty years, I often saw signs with John 3:16 printed on them. Each worked on my heart like a hammer until finally I gave my life to the Living Word – Jesus Christ.

So, you can understand my passion for Vacation Bible School because it works. I am proof of that.

In 2013, hundreds of thousands of Indian children attended Gospel for Asia’s Vacation Bible Schools throughout India. Each one heard about Jesus. Each memorized verses. Many were saved and their parents also were saved.

If you can afford $5 or $25 to help sponsor children this year, please consider doing so. You can check out a great two minute video, narrated by Natalie Grant, and learn more about the VBS program here.

Vacation Bible School? It really works. Let’s be a part of what’s happening in India today.

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May 27, 2014 · 2:45 pm

Tuesday’s Prayers for America (5/27/20140

Lazarus was just an unknown guy from a small village named Bethany, located two miles from Jerusalem. He, along with his sisters, Martha and Mary, followed Jesus.

Then, Lazarus became sick. The two sisters sent for Jesus and hoped He would come quickly to Bethany and heal their brother. Jesus remarked, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son may be glorified through it.

Jesus waited two more days and then said, “Let us go…Our friend Lazarus has died.”

The One who holds the keys of death and the grave eventually arrived at the tomb of Lazarus. He had the stone rolled away and said, “Lazarus come out.”

Lazarus walked out of the tomb.

From this day forward, Lazarus became well-known. Crowds wanted to see and meet him. Chief priests wanted to kill him because many Jews believed in Jesus on account of Lazarus’ testimony.

Eusebius, the historian, wrote in the second century that the village was no longer called Bethany, but its name had been changed to the “place of Lazarus.”

Today, I prayed:

Lord, for all the prophets and apostles in America whose callings and ministries are lying dead in tombs of bad finances, impossible relationships, sickness, mistakes, errors, and whatever hopelessness has befallen them, I pray, “Lazarus, come forth and change America by the blood of the Lamb and the word of your testimonies.” (Based on John 11: 43 and Revelation 12:11)

What do you think and has the Lord spoken to you?

Join with me on Tuesdays to fast and pray for America.

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May 25, 2014 · 7:37 am

Inside Israel

Dearest Sisters and Brothers of like-precious faith, I greet you for His glory and blessing. May you be blessed and encouraged as we grow together in the knowledge of Him Who Alone is worthy of all praise!

Shalom. Once again I should be headed to bed but so want to share with you from the smelting pot of testing and grace.

The streets and public transportation of Jerusalem afford me a peculiar set of eyeglasses to see this city. I had a couple of interesting encounters this past week that reminded me of the vantage point that I have and the obligation I feel to share it.

The first event took place on my beloved bus. Coming home from work I see many of the same faces day after day, even as tired as I am. We nod, sometimes exchange a few words, but being a crowded public bus, there are always new people on board as well. I groaned with relief as I fell into a seat the other day, next to a woman about my own age. I had been standing for much of the ride and it felt so good to be sitting.

As I watched others boarding the already packed bus, a rather disheveled, large woman boarded and walked toward the back. The bus driver called her forward and there was some jostling and soon quite a bit of noise. The woman was yelling. At first I couldn’t make out what was going on, but she was speaking English and it soon became clear. She hadn’t paid and refused to pay. She began yelling, cursing the Jews, cursing Israel and all Israelis. She was neither Jewish nor Arab from her looks. The entire bus cringed. She threw the money at the driver. The woman next to me said, “Oh! I would have given her money for her ticket. Some people can’t afford it. I would give the money…”

All around me men and women cringed in pain and I recognized it. I wonder if I can describe it. It is a particular pain that comes when your race is being hated. We are surely not alone in feeling that. Arabs feel that…Blacks feel that…Hispanics… Orientals… Caucasians…ALL people have likely felt that. Some get angry. Some ignore it. I have noticed that Jews and Israelis usually cringe with pain. The whole bus was cringing with pain.

The woman next to me said again, “Poor woman. She is crazy. Maybe she doesn’t have any money. We are not all bad, are we?”

I told her about an old woman at my work that had an even older Mother, nearly one hundred. The Mother was blind and ill, but every Friday morning she would feel her way down the stairs to the street and give a shekel to a beggar who came at the same time. When her daughter saw her do this one day, she said, “Mama, why are you doing this?”

Her mother answered, “Ora, even a beggar should be able to have flowers for Shabat.”

That started the ball rolling. Stories began to pour forth, hidden gifts given anonymously for years, different ways that people could help one another without fanfare. I kept turning the conversation back to God and my seat mate smiled and said, “You know, I may not LOOK like it (she was wearing pants, so obviously not religious) but I love God and fear Him too.”

I smiled and said, “Oh, so do I. And His Word says that He doesn’t look on the outward, but on the heart.”

She asked, “Do you think that God sees this?”

Our ride was right at the end now but I smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and said, “I KNOW that He does.”

We bid each other a very warm “shalom” and parted ways, but I wondered about the bus encounters and the juxtaposition of people and events and the prevalence of hatred.

I thought of the cursing bus-woman again today as I had a totally different encounter. I was in the shuk. I have described the shuk to you countless times, but will just remind you that amongst all of the food vendors there are also small open-air shops that sell dry goods, clothing, and all manner of merchandise. I stopped to look at a light-weight bag hanging from the roof of a tiny 3 walled shop. Spoken English always catches my ear and there was the young Ethiopian-descent shop owner speaking English with an older black woman who had a thick French accent. As I listened, she explained to him that her daughter had married a Jewish man. They moved here from France. It was her first time visiting and the language was hard for her. The young man asked her what she thought of the country.

“I think it is good,” she said. “There is just something here that I can’t explain, that is good. They are happy too.”

The young man said, “I have lived in Canada and in Australia but this is the best place in the world. It is the place that we have to be and it is wonderful.”

Now I REALLY paid attention.

The woman went on, “There is something…well…different about the people here. They take time to talk to you. They help you. They are kind and smile at you. It is not like people in France.”

My mind jumped back to the cursing bus lady earlier in the week. The young man saw me looking at them and asked me if I needed help. I answered in Hebrew and said, “Oh no, I am fine but excuse me for intruding, it is just so wonderful hearing this conversation.”

He smiled and I said, “I agree. This is the place that God has called us back to and the place where He said that He would bless us if we turn to Him.”

We kept the line of discussion going and he asked me where I was from. As I shared I felt as if we were in sort of a bubble separated from the rest of the world. We were all smiling and there was real warmth being exchanged.

Up until this time I had been speaking in Hebrew and the young man would translate for the woman. She turned to him and said, “Doesn’t this woman shine? I mean there is such a Light coming from her from inside.”

I was taken aback. It has seemed a long time since I heard those words and I wasn’t feeling particularly spiritual. I said, “If there is any Light in me it is the Light of God in Yeshua. He Is The Light who called us here.”

I surprised myself, but they didn’t seem to hear me say this. They just kept smiling and the atmosphere was permeated with such a love.

The two encounters made me think again about how MUCH our response to EVERY situation is so important. David responded to the words of the prophet Nathan pointing out his sin with Bat Sheva by saying: “IT IS ME LORD. I HAVE SINNED BEFORE YOU.”

Saul responded to the words of the prophet Samuel pointing out his sin of disobedience by saying, “IT IS NOT ME. I HAVE OBEYED THE LORD”

Two kings and two different responses.

I don’t know what caused the cursing woman on the bus to arrive at the state that she was in. But I think of things common to man: rejection, hurt, offense, deep wounds, and sin. These things are danger points in our lives. We can respond by growing angry, bitter, hurt, but these things turn us AWAY from God. God HAS a proper response for us to give when awful things happen to us. Simply put, we will either turn to God and embrace His strong medicine, or turn AWAY from God and sink in the mire of our own emotions, the world’s answers or counterfeit solutions.

Here I go again…telling you stuff that you already know when I need to go to bed. Oh BLESSINGS to you dear sisters and brothers. May we each press more and more into Him Who really IS the only way, Truth and Light. Love from your sister in the midst

Friday’s Prayers for Prisoners (5/23/2014)

The Apostle Paul referred to himself as a “prisoner of the Lord or a prisoner of Christ Jesus” six different times in his letters to the Ephesians, Timothy, and Philemon. Paul wrote these letters when he was an old man by first-century standards. He was approximately fifty-six years old.

Ten years earlier, Paul wrote:

We wanted very much to come to you, and I, Paul, tried again and again, but Satan prevented us. (1 Thessalonians 2:18 NLT)

Wait a second, right?

In the letters to the Ephesians, Timothy, and Philemon, Paul was in prison or under house arrest in Rome. When he stated that Satan hindered him, Paul was in Corinth planting a church and was a free man.

Was Paul a prisoner of the kingdom of darkness when he wrote the letter to the Thessalonians? No, I don’t believe so.

It is my opinion that Paul’s revelation of Christ grew over the ten years between the writing of Thessalonians and his writing the three letters. He understood that if Satan prevented him from going somewhere or doing something, it was because Christ allowed it. Paul was Christ’s chosen ambassador. Demons could not deter him from running the race set before him.

Today, I prayed:

Lord, I pray for your prisoners of the Lord in America that the Father of glory may give them the Spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of Him, having the eyes of their hearts enlightened, that they may know what is the hope to which He has called them, what are the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints and what is the immeasurable greatness of His power toward those who believe. (Based on Ephesians 1:17-19)

What do you think and has the Lord spoken to you?

Join with me on Fridays to fast and pray for prisoners, according to Hebrews 13:3.

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May 22, 2014 · 6:54 am

29 Years Ago…

I started a farm publishing company in Louisville, Kentucky, but from its shoestring beginning, it always needed more money. Hot Line, Inc. purchased the company in 1981. My wife, our two children, and I moved to Fort Dodge, Iowa, in the spring of 1982, purchasing a brick home on Sixth Avenue North. There I managed the new Farm Blue Division for Hot Line.

After a year with Hot Line, I left and started a new publication, still chasing my dreams of being wealthy, as in stinking rich. But it all came crashing down in 1985 because I needed thousands of dollars to start a new publishing company and bail my family out of debt. Our financial resources were maxed out. My inner reservoir was empty and I was finished.

Our only untouched asset was a $125,000 life insurance policy on me. The solution seemed obvious: suicide.

Suicide posed no moral obstacles for me because I was an agnostic. No God equaled zero problems with eternal judgment after carrying out a final business decision. My plan was to enjoy the family for the weekend and commit suicide on the following Monday.

May 20, 1985, arrived with me figuring this was the end of the line. I was not jittery about the decision, but instead I finished up a few loose ends in the morning. I ate leftovers for lunch along with drinking cups of coffee. Later that afternoon, I drove downtown to visit an insurance agent.

Bill Sheridan and I knew each other, but we were not intimate friends. His son played on a youth baseball team, which I had coached the year before. Our relationship was built on after-game conversations, standing in parking lots next to baseball diamonds. He was not even my life insurance agent.

Why did I stop to see him that day? I do not really know for sure, but I think a business partner of mine, suggested I should see him for some reason.

Bill invited me into his office. He sat in a chair behind his desk while I sat in a chair opposite him. We discussed sports and the prospects for our son’s upcoming baseball seasons. In the middle of our conversation, he stared at me.

“You’re thinking about committing suicide, aren’t you?” he said, his eyes zeroing in on mine.

His words hit like a sledgehammer. How did he know? I told no one. It was my secret $125,000 payday for my family. Words fluttered around my brain, but failed to connect with my tongue. As I sat there, a vision played across my mind showing my old Chevy Vega ramming into a viaduct and killing me. I wept, and although attempting to regain composure, I could not.

“How did you know?” I asked through sobs.

“Oh, the Lord told me while we were talking to each other.”

His words shattered my unbelief because I realized that God was alive and cared about me. We continued talking and he gave me a book: Power in Praise by Merlin Carothers. Bill eventually shook my hand and said one more explosive comment before I left.

“I speak in tongues,” he said.

Walking to my car, I thought, this God-stuff is real. It’s not hocus-pocus tomfoolery after all. I wept all the way home.

I walked into our empty house and sat down on the loveseat in the living room, facing the fireplace. I began reading Power in Praise. Each page seemed to have been written with me in mind. After twenty-five pages, I put the book down on the coffee table and walked into the downstairs bathroom. I locked the door behind me. There I knelt on the floor in front of the bathroom sink, using it as an altar for my hands. My reflection in the mirror revealed a desperate man.

“Jesus, I’ve tried everything else and nothing has worked. I guess I’ll give You a try.”

Instantly, I knew Jesus was alive and now lived inside of me. I wept for joy, knowing He loved me. I worshipped Him and prayed verbatim Footprints in the Sand as a personal prayer, but I added a new twist for its ending.

“Lord, I’m never climbing out of Your arms because You’re always going to have to carry me. I’m too weak.”

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May 13, 2014 · 2:29 am

Tuesday’s Prayers for America (5/13/2014)

I hurried down West Broad Street in my Ford pickup truck, carrying Toyota parts to a mechanic who needed them right away. As I drove along, I had a graphic vision.

Do you remember the iron lungs that polio sufferers used during the 1950’s? They looked like large cylindrical metal tubes and encased polio victims, helping them to breathe via a pressurized airflow system. The bulky machines filled entire hospital wards during the height of the polio epidemics.

In my vision, the American church system was terminally ill. As a last ditch effort to save its life, the whole church system lay in a white iron lung, gasping for its every breath. The long power cord, attached to the rear of the unit, meandered itself through other electrical cords to a unique power source: money. The life support system was plugged into bags and bags of money.

I stared at the strange sight and then a thundering voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Pull the plug!” proclaimed the voice.

Carol and I prayed about my vision that night. We felt we needed to leave the traditional church system.

Our decision to not attend churches sounds easy now, but at the time, it seemed like we were the only people in the whole nation walking away from churches. A little research on the Internet revealed hundreds of thousands of Americans had done the same thing over the years.

Still it was not easy to break our church attending habits. We were used to sitting in pews on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, Wednesday evenings, and whenever the church doors opened.

A well-meaning pastor once took me aside and gave one of those lectures no one likes to ever hear.

“Larry, you need stability in your life and for your marriage,” he said, shaking his head at our nomadic life. “No one will ever take your prophetic ministry seriously if you don’t settle down. You need to settle in a city and find a good church to park yourself so others will take you more seriously. Please, seek the Lord on this advice.”

This vision blew any thoughts about obeying his words out of the water.

(Excerpt from my memoir, The Hunt for Larry Who, Amazon eBook, 2014)

Today, I prayed:

Lord, I pray that if judgment is going to hit America, let it begin at the household of God. (Based on 1 Peter 4:17)

What do you think and has the Lord spoken to you?

Join with me on Tuesdays to fast and pray for America.

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May 12, 2014 · 9:06 am

Inside Israel

Oh dear brothers and sisters, I greet you from a hidden place in The Rock with much love and a longing to let you know how special you are as His body. May we glorify Him and may He be blessed, and may this letter be an encouragement and blessing to you for His glory.

It is difficult to believe that this three-week period of being on my own is rapidly drawing to an end as my husband is scheduled to return on Monday. He has thoroughly enjoyed his trip.

And did I write, as I had planned? No. Did I go to the zoo, as I had planned? No. Did I do much of what I had planned to do? No. Nor do I feel that the time was wasted but it was a time of being secreted away, often just in His Presence with no words, and often finding myself just doing what I felt He wanted me to do. I was hoping for intense times of prayer, but even that wasn’t my portion.

Yesterday and the day before I had the great joy of watching His power displayed in the form of a magnificent storm. This was unusual for this time of year because the sheer amount of rain that poured out upon us. What a blessing. It began with a full 12 hours of heat lightening. We have had a sha’rav (heat wave) with dry desert winds blowing from the south for a number of days. The grand crashes of thunder sent shivers down sensitive spines. Then, suddenly, the precious water began falling in sheets and continued for more then a day.

Our southern most city of Eilat alone received 1/3 of its annual rainfall during this period and more then 60 tourists needed to be rescued from flash floods while on a hike through a wadi in the south. Meanwhile, the temperature plunged from a very hot 33 degrees Celsius (about 91 Fahrenheit) to 11 degrees (about 52 F) in the same amount of time. I loved it as did most of the people that I saw and so did the dusty trees and flowers.

The air smells so fresh and clean but my greatest delight is the way The Lord personally blessed me in it. You see, when we moved to this new apartment, we brought with us two of our small trees. One was a fig tree that I had bought for my husband as a gift. These are now living at the bottom of our 27 steps and around back of the apartment. I was to keep them watered while my husband was gone, but I couldn’t get the back gate opened to water them. Twice during the 3 weeks I did succeed in getting back there and they did fine until the sha’rav. I looked out of the back window and there was my fig tree wilting away badly. I brought a bottle of water down to it but once again, could NOT unlock the gate. I prayed, “Oh Lord, please make a way for this little tree to be watered and not die.”

Well, He sure did! And I felt personally hugged and filled with thanksgiving, as the little tree is full and green today. Thank You Lord for caring about the little things.

During this time I have been blessed with much marvelous and encouraging fellowship both from out of the country and within. This too is something I have greatly needed. He knows our needs.

The last time that I wrote to you was the day before our Memory day- Yom h’zikeron. I had intended to write again of the vastness and permeating presence of grieving in a nation where nearly every family has lost at least one, if not many, love ones to war and/or terror. The nation stood silent during the minute long siren at 8 pm last Sunday night, announcing the beginning of the time to remember the fallen together. The nation seemed huddled together as one very tight family. Regular television and radio was stopped at the time and hearts opened up to share the stories, the memories, and the history. It was really quite humbling and very dramatic with raw emotion wrapped around it.

In developing the therapies to help people with posttraumatic stress, it was found that retelling the events was very helpful. So the entire nation sat and listened to one another. Names, dates, photos, montages of precious lives were shown, baby pictures, school photos, that first day in the army, the last photo before that one was ripped away suddenly. The family openly wept and the nation wept with each one. The siren sounded again, this time for 2 minutes at 11am on Monday. Be thankful for the sacrifices made, be thankful for the moments that we can share together in this life, be thankful for the nation born in a day, the promised land restored and the dream that these stood for that so many paid with blood.

The intensity of the day of Memory was almost unbearable. And it was inconceivable that we should be able to go from such grief to the heights of joy ushered in at 8pm on the same night. A few notes on the horn sounded it’s forlorn command and then suddenly a a major musical note signaled the flag bearers to raise the flag from half mast to fly again above the nation. The command to “Remember” turned upward from the graves to the wonder of those as if in a dream, the hope of 2,000 years, and the written promise. Could it be true? Such a painful price was paid in blood and is still being paid for the re-birth of the nation that God SAID would be re-born. The wonderful chapter 37 of the prophet Ezekiel became real before our eyes.

You know the scriptures. First He brings us back from the four corners of the earth where we have been scattered by Him because of our disobedience and THEN He reveals Himself. Now THAT day will be a wonder to never be surpassed until He rolls it all up as a scroll and says, “IT IS FINISHED!”

Every Yom h’atzmaoot (Independence Day), I watch the amazing ceremony, and I wonder how in the world they are able to pull it off, to make that dramatic and impossible transition from grief to joy, to go from the minor note to the major one, to lift the subdued lights to dancing ones, and to express again the bigness of the realities before our eyes. I think, But of course they can because HE did and HE is and HE will! AND DIDN’T THE DISCIPLES GO FROM GRIEVING TO JOY WHEN THEY REALIZED THAT HE WAS, INDEED, ALIVE AND NO LONGER DEAD?

And if HE was able to really call this scattered and broken people from the ends of the earth back to our ancient homeland, if HE could turn the world’s eyes and hearts for one moment to okay the plan that they would later, collectively, curse, if HE could cause the desert to blossom, then HE can also both defend this tiny nation AND even more important, open the corporate eyes of the heart of the nation in one day to “look upon Him Whom we have pierced.”

YES these dry bones can live…and will!

Each year I try to read a book before Yom h’atzmaoot to remind myself of the impossibility of the events that paved the streets that I walk on and to remind myself that I am looking into eyes that have seen these events. This year I am re-reading Watchmen on the Walls by Hannah Hurnard, who also wrote Hinds Feet on High Places. It is a lesser-known book but unique in many ways. After a brief history, we get to read her diaries from our war of Independence as she was living on ha ne’vi’im street (the street of the prophets) in the center of Jerusalem near to the Old City Walls. Her view was unique in that she was living right in the center as a believer.

I read accounts of those here, but there were precious few believers then. As I sat to write this letter I read some lines that she wrote and it so well tied this letter together. This is what she wrote about as the great attacks of the war and the siege of Jerusalem eased a bit and she had the gift of several weeks alone in the quiet, where she planned to write about what had happened:

“I had high hopes of filling in the lonely weeks happily and profitably, but at first nothing happened as planned. I found that mentally I was very tired. My mind almost refused to concentrate on the work, and the interruptions were endless… Although the first week after their departure was comparatively quiet, everything happened with a rush afterwards, and we had two of the most sensational weeks of the summer.”

I had to laugh. Yes, Lord! These three weeks alone did NOT go as I had planned. I have NOT written as I hoped nor answered personal mail. I am not in a war, and certainly NOT in the siege of Jerusalem, but I found my mind and body tired. I have been drinking from His well and believing that He is sorting many things out.

What a GOD we serve. He is Good and full of mercy. To know Him and follow Him is the whole of it, isn’t it? And if He can do this for one of us, surely He is able to open the eyes of this nation in a day, as He said that He will.

I end this letter with so much love. May our Faithful God BLESS you in The powerful, loving Name of Yeshua h’Meshiach, Jesus Christ, Lord of glory.

Lovingly,

your sis J

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Filed under Christianity, Church, Gifts of the Spirit, Israel, Jerusalem, Prayer, Prophecy, spiritual warfare

Tagged as Christianity, Church, Gifts of the Spirit, Israel, Jerusalem, Kingdom of God, Prophecy, Spiritual warfare

May 9, 2014 · 3:01 pm

Friday’s Prayers for Prisoners (5/9/2004)

Jesus was walking along with His disciples when they saw a man blind from birth. The disciples asked, “Lord, who sinned? This man or his parents?”

The disciples’ questions were based on the Jewish theology that all suffering in a person’s life came either from sin committed by the person or by his parents, as stated in Exodus 20:5, Numbers 14:18, and so forth.

A man blind from birth offered a unique problem for this theology because the man would have had to commit sin in his mother’s womb if it was his sin that caused his own suffering. As silly as that sounds, there were Jewish teachers who actually taught that fetuses could sin.

Jesus sidestepped the whole theological debate and saw an opportunity to prove He was the light of the world. He healed the man.

The man ended up being tossed under the bus by his parents, by the Temple’s leaders, and then tossed out of the Temple because he would not deny the power of his miracle. How could he?

The chapter ends with a great revelation for the man: