Tag Archives: Spiritual warfare

In early 1994, one of my closest high school friends died after a long battle with cancer. His death really bugged me because I had prayed and fasted over a long period of time for him.

Was I mad at the Lord about my friend’s death? Yes.

Doesn’t scripture state that “all things for which you pray and ask, believe that you have received them, and they will be granted to you?” I prayed for my friend to live, but he died. How could I ever really trust that particular verse again?

On the three hour trip back to the small Illinois town of my youth, I poured my heart out to the Lord. Although I felt comforted, I had no answers. As I walked up to the church, some high school friends delayed me. We chatted about old times for a few minutes.

This delay caused my parents to walk on without me. When I finally stepped into the sanctuary, there was quite a line ahead of me. Standing there, I asked, “Lord, did my friend make it into heaven?”

Now, this is not a question I recommend believers should ever ask the Lord because what if you don’t like His answer, then what? Yet, I was so upset about my friend’s death, I asked anyway. You see, not only was I asking for his healing, but I was also asking the Lord to save him.

The procession slowly crept toward the closed casket sitting at the front of the church. Just as I arrived at the casket, the Lord spoke to my heart, “He’s not in this casket. He’s in heaven with Me.”

I could have danced and shouted for joy. It was one of my happiest moments ever.

Then, I turned the corner and faced my friend’s wife and family. They were standing on the left side of the altar, receiving funeral attendees. As I inched toward them I began crying, not a few tears but buckets of them. I wailed and was almost out of control. People turned to look, but I could not stop.

My friend’s wife, his two children and his parents comforted me, instead of the other way around. I was such a mess. Finally, I sat down next to my parents in the middle of the church. Somehow, my crying ceased.

What was that all about? I thought.

Piano music announced the beginning of the service. As the pianist played, the Lord spoke to my heart. “Your friend was called to be a prophet and he didn’t make it into his calling. The misery you felt was just a fraction of what I feel when a person doesn’t make it into his calling.”

The Lord’s words caused me to break down and weep. My parents, on the left side of me, and my sister, on the other side, tried to comfort me, but what could they do? My heart was shattered by the grief of the Lord.

Eventually, the misery passed.

After some songs and family testimonies, the pastor began the eulogy. I listened to her, but once again, the Lord spoke to me.

“My church is mostly a bunch of losers. They pray for the sick, but when the person dies anyway, they aren’t upset or mad. They just think they did their duty and at least made an effort, and that’s good enough for them,” said the Lord to my heart.

My jaw dropped, wondering what was coming next.

“Major League players all want to win, but after a while, players on losing teams don’t mind losing. After all, they still receive their large paychecks. So, it’s no big deal to them. But players on winning teams hate to lose, absolutely hate it. They will do anything to win and whatever sacrifice is needed, they willingly do it for victories.

“I want My church to hate losing,” He said.

His words, “I want My church to hate losing,” exploded within me. Its echoes bounced off every corridor and passageway of my mind. Once again, I wept.

This happened seventeen years ago and it still resonates within me.

What does this experience have to do with San Francisco?

(Continued in Part 6)

“What you’re seeing is the governing demonic principality over the University of California, Berkeley. It’s a religious one and one of the gatekeepers mentioned by Jesus in Matthew 16:18. Now, look down,” he said, pointing to students walking along the sidewalks below us.

I watched various students crisscrossing the Campanile Esplanade on their way to classes. At first, they looked normal to me, wearing typical college apparel. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then, my spiritual eyes kicked in and what appeared normal in the natural realm was not so normal in the spiritual one.

Have you ever seen pictures of a flying dinosaur known as a pterodactyl? It has a long, slender head with a mouth filled with sharp teeth, scaly-like body, web-like wings and talons for feet. This sort of resembles the creatures I saw, sitting on the shoulders of almost every student walking below me. Each creature was the size of a large crow and had wolf hair on its body, and a slender rat’s tail. The beings constantly whispered into the ears of students while holding a wing over the students’ other ears. At times, the creatures defecated and vomited on the students so that each person dripped with slop and sewage. It was ghastly and I yearned to warn the students.

“Follow those two over there,” said the angel, pointing toward two guys.

Somehow, I was able to focus on the two students. They talked to each other as they walked along, just basic talk about their classes. Then, they walked into a free speech area where a street evangelist was preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God. Both stopped and listened. As they were standing there, I watched the pterodactyl-like creatures use their beaks to snatch the seeds of the gospel out of the twosome’s hearts with swift surgeon-like precision. After a few minutes, the two students walked away, none the better for their experiences.

Again, I wanted to shout and warn everyone. Someone needed to do it. Why not me?

The angel touched my shoulder again with his hand and I turned toward him. “Now, it’s time for your spiritual ears to be opened.” He reached up and touched both of my ears with his hands.

Wouldn’t you think it would be quiet in the spiritual realm over the University of California, Berkeley? It’s not. There is constant clamor, reverberating throughout the whole atmosphere, most of which comes from the ruling principality. But what really shocked me is that the demonic principality’s words mirrored the liberal attitudes on the campus. From the deans down to the professors, and then, to the students. The religious principality constantly spewed out proclamations like:

White Americans are racists… All wars are immoral and wrong… Homosexuality is not a sin… Pro-choice is a woman’s right… Same-sex marriage is morally acceptable…Traditional Christianity is irrelevant, mean, hateful, judgmental and dogmatic…Jesus never said anything about homosexuality…Jesus is the Way which is open to other ways, such as Hare Krishna, Buddha and Mohammad…God is a God of love and not judgment… Satan and demons are fictional beings…The Bible contains  no more authority than the Koran, Buddhist sutras, Veda and other spiritual writings…Creating social justice is the main emphasis of the gospel…Global warming is a Christian stewardship concern…

I stood there with my mouth open, drool running down my chin. “Hey, many of these statements I agree with,” I muttered aloud, not realizing I had done so.

“And that’s why you are deceived.”

“Deceived? Me?”

“Yes, you and most liberal Christians who believe such garbage.”

“But, but – ”

“Not only are you deceived, but your faith is dead when it agrees with Satan’s agenda. He’s always a liar, even when his words sound righteous. Your faith, in order to have life, must be based on what the Lord has stated in Scripture and is presently saying to His church.”

I kept quiet as his words ripped my theology apart.

Then, he pointed down again. “Look.”

There just below us, was a student resembling a fluorescent light bulb walking across the esplanade. She lit up the whole area around her as she hurried on her way. But unlike the others, she did not have a creature sitting on her shoulder and instead, one hovered around her head like a helicopter, trying to alight on her. For some unseen reason, the creature could not land. Frustration etched across its face.

“Listen,” said the angel.

My ears adjusted themselves to only listening to the girl. Her footsteps and the movement of her arms came through loud and clear, but there was something else. “Dee, dee, bah, bah, hooka mah hundae,” she whispered over and over.

She was speaking in tongues!

“Your message to Christians on college campuses is very simple,” said the angel. “It’s the same one Paul gave to the believers in Ephesus when he said, ‘Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, with all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints.”

Then he added, “In case you have forgotten, these scriptures are Ephesians 6: 17-18.”

It bugged me that he knew I had not read my Bible for years. What else did he know?

The above scene is from my novel, Deceived, Dead and Delivered, which will be released in 2012.  

(Continued in Part 5) 

Why does God often send an outsider to an area to help deliver the oppressed people?

God said to Abraham, “Know for certain that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, where they will be enslaved and oppressed for four hundred years. (Genesis 15:13)

Three hundred and fifty years into the prophetic words of Genesis 15:12, a baby boy was born to a Levite couple living in Egypt. The couple already had a three year old son (Aaron) and an older daughter (Miriam), but this child was unique. He was the chosen one, the one who would be the deliverer of the Hebrews out of the iron furnace, Egypt.

How did God prepare His chosen deliverer?

Because of the harsh edicts of Pharaoh who wanted to kill all male Hebrew babies, the baby boy was put into a water tight basket and set adrift in reeds along the Nile River. The baby boy’s sister, Miriam, stood nearby, watching on.

Pharaoh’s daughter then walked by the reeds, checked out the basket and fell in love with the Hebrew baby. Miriam showed up and asked if Pharaoh’s daughter needed a nurse for the baby. Pharaoh’s daughter agreed and paid the baby’s Levite mother to nurse her own baby. Interestingly enough, it was Pharaoh’s daughter who named the child Moses, not his Hebrew parents

Can you imagine the conversation that  must have happened when Pharaoh’s daughter brought Moses into the palace? Her father wanted to kill Hebrew male babies and his daughter had one in her possession. There had to be a few arguments over Moses, but in the end, Pharaoh’s daughter raised Moses as an Egyptian. He was taught by the best teachers, learned the ways of Egypt and became a powerful minister of state.

Three hundred and ninety years into the prophetic words of Genesis 15:12, Moses felt like visiting the Hebrew slaves. He intervened in a fight between a slave and an Egyptian, and then killed the Egyptian.

And Moses supposed that his brethren understood that God was granting them deliverance through him, but they did not understand. (Acts 7:25)

Because of killing the Egyptian and the misunderstanding of the Hebrews, Moses fled to the desert where he tended sheep for forty years and worked for his father-in-law.

Not quite four hundred and thirty years into the prophetic words of Genesis 15:12, Moses had his burning bush experience with the Angel of the Lord. God revealed His name, I Am, told Moses to return to Egypt and gave him specific signs for the Hebrews. Moses argued about his inability to speak and God eventually agreed to allow his brother, Aaron, to do some speaking for Moses.

The Lord also gave Moses a future event:

“…Is there not your brother Aaron the Levite? I know that he speaks fluently. And moreover, behold, he is coming out to meet you; when he sees you, he will be glad in his heart. (Exodus 4:14)

While Moses was heading back to Egypt, God spoke to Aaron:

“…Go to meet Moses in the wilderness.” So he went and met him at the mountain of God and kissed him. (Exodus 4:27)

Both Moses and Aaron were prophets. And as these two scriptures reveal, both men heard the voice of the Lord. So, why did the Hebrews even need a prophet like Moses to deliver them? After all, Aaron was a prophet and, as a part of the prophet’s calling, he was also a deliverer.

First, let’s look at Aaron who was born and raised as a slave in Egypt. His normal mental state had to be based on fear. Fear of reprisals. Fear of death. Fear of starvation. Fear for his loved ones. Fear. Fear. Fear. It had to govern every part of his life, even part of his prophet’s calling.

For instance, what did Aaron do when Moses delayed coming down from the mountain and the people asked for a new god to lead them? He caved in to the people’s fears and carved a golden calf. This Egyptian god-like idol must have represented authority and power to Aaron which he thought had empowered his slave masters. But no matter what his actual reason was, it was based on fear and not faith in the I Am.

Moses did not have Aaron’s fear problems. He was raised by the Egyptians who were the slave masters. He understood the Egyptian gods and knew they were powerless and dumb. Then, after Moses’ eyes were opened to his calling and had killed the Egyptian man, he probably felt fear for the first time. So, he fled to Egypt.

For forty years, Moses spent his time in a nomadic existence, far from a life of daily fear. It was during this period, he learned the ways of the Lord and came to have an intimate knowledge of God and His goodness.

For you have not received a spirit of slavery to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption, as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” 

But also, for those forty years, Moses was not under the religious principality, which governed Egypt and which used the spirit of slavery to rule over the Hebrews. Like David, Moses would have had to fight some bears and lions along the way, but he did not have to face and be shaped by a Goliath everyday like Aaron and the other Hebrews did.

When he was finally ready and prepared to face his Goliath, the religious principality over Egypt, God sent him as a deliverer to the Hebrews.

Yet remember this: it took a long time to prepare Moses for his calling of deliverer.

San Francisco can expect numerous outsiders who have no reputations, short resumes and long preparation times in deserts to show up as deliverers for the city. Their arrival is not a reflection on the San Francisco saints who have suffered under the spirit of depravity for years, but rather it is God’s plan for the city.

(Continued in Part 4)

At 9 p.m., my studying was completed. So, I stood up and walked into the kitchen for a drink of water. Turning on the recessed ceiling lights, I stopped dead in my tracks. A grotesque creature was sitting on a stool at the island counter. If the angel was the epitome of the Kingdom of Light, then this being was the dark side’s counterpart. Its gloomy eyes glared at me and its lips formed a sneer. Oozing sores plastered the being’s face and neck. A filthy robe covered its torso. The air was charged with a stench of decay.

“Listen up Chuck,” the creature said in a raspy voice.

Fear struck my chest like a baseball bat. I had trouble breathing. Confusion settled over me like a morning fog. Two and two did not add up at that moment.

“If you go to businessmen and tell them to leave churches and no longer give money to ministries and churches, some bad things will happen to your family. Your two sons will die in an auto accident and your wife will go insane. Do you hear me?”

I could not speak.

The creature drummed its dirty two-inch long fingernails on the granite counter. The beat reminded me of a funeral march.

“I said – do you hear me?” the creature hissed out the words.

I nodded.

“And I can do it. It will be easy, just as easy as it was for me to come into your home. No one can protect you from me! Not even God!”

The creature bared its brownish-yellowish teeth with a hideous grin as it stood up. “Don’t you ever forget what I told you – okay?”

The being walked over to the door leading out to the deck. Then without opening the door, he stepped through it, and left.

I collapsed on the floor and wept. My body convulsed in fear.

“Oh God! What have I done to my family?” I screamed.

Afterward, I pulled myself together and wandered into the family room, collapsing on the sofa. What is happening? I thought. Everything is hitting me at once. What can I do? My mind raced in circles searching for answers, but I found none. Finally, I fell asleep.

As I slept, a voice visited me. Was it a dream or a vision? It was like both, but different at the same time. I was awake, but asleep.

“Chuck,” the voice said.

Looking up, I saw myself standing in front of a stage in what looked like a large auditorium. It was black. None of the spot lights were turned on. The red velvet curtains were drawn apart. The voice seemed to be flowing out of the darkness blanketing the stage. I felt no fear, but in fact, was comforted by the voice.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Do you have some questions?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

“What was that being in my kitchen?”

“What do you think it was?”

“A demon.”

“Yes. That was a demon power sent to frighten you by the religious ruling spirit over America.”

“But how did that happen?” I asked. “I always pray for angelic protection over me.”

“Yes, you do,” the voice said. “For just a few moments, the angels who protect you backed off their posts. When they did that, the demon power slipped into your realm.”

It hit me like a hammer between the eyes. The Lord set me up and used me as ambush bait.

“But – ” I said, trying to put my thoughts into words.

The voice interrupted me. “You have been chosen to have insight into spiritual warfare so that you can teach others. Spiritual warfare is not played on a Game Boy. It is played out in real life scenarios where lives and destinies are at stake.”

The voice paused for a moment and then added, “Satan and his army want to kill Christians and their families, and destroy their destinies on the earth.”

I cringed. “But what can I do to protect my family?”

“What does scripture say?”

Once again, the voice bounced my question back to me.

I thought for a moment before answering. “Cast my cares on the Lord for He cares for me.”

“Yes. And don’t forget that Jesus rebuked demons. He refused to allow them to speak because they are all liars. You can do the same in Jesus’ name.”

I was silent, not wanting to ask my next question.

“Can Satan and his forces really hurt my children or Dusty?” I finally asked.

“Yes. Your rebellion and sin can open the gates for Satan’s army to come into your family’s lives. But by the same token, a causeless curse will not alight on you or your family. So, walk with God and avoid sin.” The voice was silent for a moment. “Any more questions?

“What about my problems with Dusty?”

“She is not the problem – you are. Dusty is like most women in that she desires to see her husband as a sold-out man of God, not a half-hearted pew-sitter. You obey God, follow His instructions, and she will be happy to walk by your side.”

With that answer, the voice left and I returned to my sleep.

The above scene is from my novel, Deceived, Dead and Delivered, which will be released in 2012.   

(Continued in Part 3)

When the vision ended, I sat there trying to make sense of what I had just seen.

That’s when the angel appeared.

He stared at me. “Let’s go.”

Shock hit me, my mouth hung open. “Huh?” I mumbled.

Without explanation, the angel reached over and grabbed my left hand. We took off at the speed of light. I looked down as Albert disappeared quickly into a black dot and heard a faint “wolf” fall out of his mouth.

The dome of the San Francisco City Hall appeared directly ahead of us. It looked like we would crash into it. But before I could scream, we passed through it and landed in the Supervisors’ meeting chamber on the second floor. A wooden bench somehow telescoped out of the wall, up near the ceiling, and we sat down.

Under us, I saw the eleven supervisors sitting in their leather swivel-chairs. Each had a laptop computer on the desk in front of them. They talked and carried on. It was the weekly San Francisco Supervisors’ meeting.

The angel turned toward me. His robe whispered softly as he pivoted around.

“Open your eyes and see,” he said with a quiet power filled with heavenly authority.

I looked down again. This time my spiritual eyes opened.

I saw a grotesque creature sitting on the right shoulder of each of the eleven supervisors. The chimpanzee-size beings had a mixture of what looked like reptile, dragon, and wolf-like body parts with stubby tails, talons for feet, scale-covered wings, web-like hands and misshapen faces which protruded into long snouts and were filled with sharp teeth. They resembled dingy, gray gargoyles.

Each creature held its right wing over their assigned supervisors’ eyes. Their right hands were curled into a megaphone shape so they could speak directly into the supervisors’ ears. Their left hands looped behind the supervisors’ heads and covered their left ears.

The creatures never rested. When they were not speaking into ears, they looked up, around and at each other, their heads constantly moved about, their eyes searching to and fro. They seemed to be driven by a deep dread, almost as if a cruel slave master’s power instilled a fear in them.

What is this? I thought. Why am I here?

“Today is show and tell day, preparing you for your first assignment next week,” said the angel.

“First assignment – next week?”

“Quiet! I’m the teacher. You’re the student. Understand?” he whispered a stinging rebuke at me.

His voice contained no anger. Love cushioned the blows, but yet, I felt the power behind the rebuke. I shuddered and nodded.

“Earlier today, you had a vision. In it, you saw yourself being used as a sword by the Lord Jesus against a brass gate. The brass gate you saw was a gate of Hell over this city. It must be attacked so the truth from heaven can be heard in San Francisco. You are His chosen weapon for the undertaking.”

He paused a beat before continuing.

“Your spiritual eyes have been dialed up two notches, but that’s more than enough for you to get an idea of what’s happening in the Supervisors’ meeting room,” he said. “As you can see, demons sit on the supervisors’ shoulders, blocking information that is contrary to Satan’s agenda. At the same time, evil ideas are constantly spoken into the supervisors’ ears.”

He pointed a finger at me. “Remember: our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the hordes of Satan.”

I nodded.

Then, he pointed at the supervisors. “Look again.”

This time I saw words streaming through the ceiling on what looked like hologram ticker tapes carried on laser beams. These words flowed to the ears of the creatures, the supervisors and everyone in the room.

I read them; they said, “Alternative life style.” “Pro-choice.” “Gay pride.” “Toleration.” “Christians are bigots.” “Abortion is a woman’s right.” “Separation of church and state.”  “San Francisco Pride.”

As each new message arrived, the creatures spoke into the ears of supervisors. A source from above orchestrated everything.

The angel pointed up. “Look.”

As I obeyed, the ceiling and roof over us opened and I saw into the second heaven. My eyes took a few moments adjusting to the spirit realm. But then, I saw a creature sitting on a large brass throne, blocking a portal coming out of the third heaven. Light rays attempted to flow through the portal, but only a few rays were able to pass by the large creature.

The creature’s appearance alternated between looking like a beautiful angel dressed in white and that of a monster version of the dingy, gray gargoyles, sitting on the supervisors’ shoulders. Like the smaller demons, the creature never rested. It caused fear in the hierarchy of demons below it and seemed fearful of its own cruel masters above it.

The words I saw, streaming through the ceiling like hologram ticker tapes, emanated from this creature. I saw additional word streams coming out of the creature’s mouth, heading toward Sacramento, Hollywood, Washington, D. C., New York City, newspapers, television networks, movie studios, publishers, corporations and thousands of other places.

The angel interrupted my thoughts.

“What you are seeing is the spirit of depravity. It is a ruling principality over San Francisco and guards a gate of Hell over the city. So powerful is this spirit that its wickedness is spread throughout the nation.

“The reason the spirit switches back and forth between appearances is it is creating confusion by this maneuver in the minds of people, whereby good is called evil and evil good.”

He grabbed my left hand. “Hang on.”

We flew up over City Hall and stopped, suspended high above the dome’s peak. The angel waved his hand over the city.

“Next week, your assignment is to begin engaging the spirit of depravity in battle.”

He then spent a few minutes giving me instructions from the Lord God of Hosts.

The above is a scene from my soon to be published novel, Jonah.

(Continued in Part 2)

“War is hell.” (General William Tecumseh Sherman)

“It is fatal in any war to enter it without the will to win it.” (General Douglas MacArthur)

“Nobody ever defended anything successfully; there is only attack and attack and attack some more.” General George S. Patton)

General William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, received a message from a lieutenant in a distant city: “While preaching on the streets today, we were attacked by saloon keepers and their mobs. Some of us ended up in jail; some in hospitals; and the rest of us are fearful. What shall we do? Surrender?”

Booth immediately sent a reply: “Surrender? Never! It looks like you’re finally having some success in your city. Continue the battle.”

Looking at today’s Salvation Army, it’s hard to envision the militant spirit of General Booth (1829-1912). His motto, “Go for souls, and go for the worst,” compelled him to preach in front of gin joints, saloons and brothels. Night after night, he returned home, bruised and bleeding from stones, beatings, hot tar and whatever the angry mobs threw at him. At home, he would then pray with his wife, Catherine, for souls. Then, the next day, he went back on the streets, preaching salvation to angry crowds.

His preaching converted thieves, prostitutes, gamblers and drunkards. Then, these converts were encouraged to become  evangelists themselves and join him on the street, preaching and singing to crowds. In this manner, cities were shaken and slums changed for the better.

His secret: all night prayer meetings and tears.

Booth never cared that newspapers lambasted and ridiculed him. He just figured it went along with his calling to save souls. Even when spat upon, he thought of it as a badge of honor.

During the course of Booth’s life, he traveled 5,000,000 miles and preached 60,000 messages, mostly on the streets. His advice to his Salvation Army: “Work as if everything depended on your work, pray as if everything depended on your prayer.”

If ever America needed men like General Booth, we need them now.

Christianity’s tolerant, wish-washy, lovey-dovey, “God loves you no matter how you live and how big your sin” message is not working. Sin now abounds in America’s cities, especially San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and Seattle, but where are the grace messages, confronting and combating this sin?

Where are the General Booths who are willing to stand in the streets of Compton, South LA, the Castro District of San Francisco, other inner cities and gay communities and speak the truth to them? Where are the men who have the courage to proclaim: “Go and sin no more?”

If you hate ugly messes, find a comfortable seat on the sidelines and keep quiet. Why? Because this will be a messy, long war to deliver people in gay communities, inner cities and out of gangs.  Well-meaning Christians with soulish pity will end up on the wrong side in this war and will oppose Spirit-backed men and women with the word of the Lord in their mouths. It will be an absolutely ugly mess. Christians against Christians. And Christians against the world system and its media.

You need to overcome the tug of people against you as you reach for high goals. (General George S. Patton)

The internationally known prophet asked for prayer after his meeting at the church I attended at the time. Some of us gathered around him and began praying. After a few minutes, a prophetic word crossed my mind.

“The calling of apostle will come upon you in the near future, but first, I see you pastoring a small church,” I said. “The Lord wants you to really understand people before he moves you into the apostolic calling. From the small church, you will walk into a world-wide apostolic ministry.”

Most believers would have been happy to receive an encouraging word like this, but not that particular man. This same prophet, who had taught us earlier in the evening about the love of God and about the importance of humility, rebuked me sharply.

“I spend lots of time in prayer,” he said. “So, don’t you think the Lord could speak prophetic words like that to me in my prayer time?” His eyes revealed his anger at me.

To be honest, I was shocked by his reaction. “Uh, well, uh, I guess so,” I answered.

“Then why do I need a prophetic word from you?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know,” I answered, not knowing what else to say.

This eye-opening incident really happened to me sixteen years ago and it’s as alive in my memory banks today as if it just happened yesterday.

The crux of the matter was not whether the prophetic words were accurate or not, but rather, it was that I was not at the prophet’s spiritual level. I was a nobody. If I had been a Billy Graham, Rick Warren, David Yongi Cho or some other well-known international minister, he never would have spoken those words to me. Instead he would have said, “Thanks for the prophetic words. I’ll pray about them.”

Now, if you think this is a unique and seldom occurring event, I have news for you: it’s not! For most of the tradition church system, there is a hierarchy system set in place where only certain people are allowed to speak words of direction or correction to the ministers who lead (usually called the clergy) and the pew sitters (known as the lay people) have little voice in these matters.

But yet, when one of the original apostles, Peter, became a hypocrite in Antioch, the young apostle Paul had no problem handling the situation:

But when Peter came to Antioch, I had, to oppose him to his face, for what he did was very wrong. When he first arrived, he ate with the Gentile Christians, who were not circumcised. But afterward, when some friends of James came, Peter wouldn’t eat with the Gentiles anymore. He was afraid of criticism from these people who insisted on the necessity of circumcision. As a result, other Jewish Christians followed Peter’s hypocrisy, and even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. (Galatians 2:11-13)

Do you think Peter was embarrassed? Probably. Do you think Peter wanted to lash out at Paul? Probably. This is usually how our flesh reacts to being rebuked, or at least, this is how mine reacts at the time.  Then, what do you think Peter felt when he saw the above letter sent to the churches in Galatia and his name mentioned as a hypocrite? Once again, he was probably a little miffed, but did he hold a grudge against Paul?

And remember, our Lord’s patience gives people time to be saved. This is what our beloved brother Paul also wrote to you with the wisdom God gave him— speaking of these things in all of his letters. Some of his comments are hard to understand, and those who are ignorant and unstable have twisted his letters to mean something quite different, just as they do with other parts of Scripture. And this will result in their destruction. (2 Peter 3:15-16 NLT)

Peter, the man who had the revelation that Jesus was the Christ and who was chosen to accompany Jesus on the mountain when He was transfigured and talked to Moses and Elijah, was a humble man of God. He stayed small in his own eyes and was a seeker of truth.

The apostles are coming, not to be a part of the hierarchical system, but rather to blow it apart. Will the apostles rebuke the leaders of the traditional church system? Most likely, very little. But instead, the humility displayed by these soon-coming apostles will attract the long suffering pew sitters out of the traditional churches and into their royal priesthood callings. The captives will finally be set free.

The apostles are coming!

(To be continued in the future)

Flickering candles scattered throughout the family room provided light for the home church as shadows danced across walls. The adults sat on a leather sectional, a matching loveseat and a brick fireplace hearth while the children sprawled out on the carpet. The scene was reminiscent of a time when the church’s existence was threatened by Nero’s bloody pogroms. And like those early Christians, the group huddled together seeking refuge from a cruel enemy, searching for more victims to devour.

Perhaps, the angel of death will pass us by, Luke thought. But how will that happen?

Then Luke looked around the room at the home church’s members. Ike and Hannah Albertson, Juan and Debbie Rodriguez, Ezra and Bonnie Cho, Ben and Myra Goldberg, Tim and Margie O’Riley and all the children.  Luke’s wife, Cat, sat next to him on the hearth. All were present and none seemed to have suffered major injuries from the nuclear bomb.

Yet, death hung like a drape over the assembly. Everyone felt its evil presence. It was an all-out battle to keep panic and the “if only’s” from invading their thoughts.

But what struck Luke as utterly amazing were the children. They seemed peaceful. A few even played quietly in the breakfast nook. Others sat in front of their parents on the carpet. Margie’s four month old baby even giggled and kicked his feet on her lap.

We need to be more like children, Luke thought.

His inner meditations were overridden at times by the outside sounds of explosions, distant sirens and the roar of raging fires. The external commotion from the aftereffects of the nuclear bomb only added another lead brick to the group’s emotional overload.

Then, as Luke Stone sat there, his spirit leaped to life within him. Stirrings like this had occurred in times past as a result of the spiritual gifts, but now, it was even more pronounced. Divine strength eclipsed his human weaknesses and fears. Where just seconds before he had seen nothing but impossibilities, he now saw opportunities. A heaven-inspired plan formed in his mind.

He stood up and looked around at the assembly.

“Four lepers sat in the midst of a disaster when they said to one another, ‘Why are we sitting here until we die?’ Having nothing to lose, they marched toward the enemy’s camp. The Lord then amplified the echoes of their footsteps, causing Israel’s foes to retreat from the battle site. Thus, triumph swallowed up defeat. This victory was not accomplished by a group who continued to sit within their walls of safety. It happened because a few men decided to ignore their circumstances and weaknesses and do something.”

The assembly focused their eyes on him. They needed no announcements or advertising hype to inform them that the mantle of the apostle rested upon Luke. They knew. And like Paul the apostle, Luke did not speak with persuasive words of wisdom, but instead, he demonstrated the Holy Spirit and power so that the people’s faith rested not in him but on the power of God.

“Now, like the four lepers, we have a decision to make. To sit here until we die, or to obey God,” Luke proclaimed.

Luke paused and did not bully the group into following his beliefs. He knew this was the Holy Spirit’s job and that He would guide them into the truth. (Short excerpt from an upcoming book, LA Died Today)

The apostles are coming, not to sit in large churches and receive adulation, but to advance the Kingdom of God against impossible situations and bring glory to the King.

(Continued in Part 3)

The university auditorium was packed to capacity for the debate between Dr. Hiram Love, author of Gays Are Holy, Too, and Paul Simon, a Christian businessman. The middle-aged businessman was a last minute replacement for a noted Christian apologist who suffered from the flu.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to tonight’s debate,” said the moderator. “The topic for our debate, Is Homosexuality A Sin, seems to be a hot-button subject in our state right now with the Prop 8 vote and its follow-up lawsuits. The format for our debate is that each debater has thirty minutes to put forth his views on whether or not homosexuality is a sin. Then, in the second hour, the two will go head to head in a point and counterpoint match up. Dr. Love won the coin toss and will go first. Dr. Love, are you ready?”

Dr. Love nodded and walked to the podium. His herringbone sport coat with brown leather elbow patches added a professorial look to his thin frame and bearded face.

“Do you know how many times Jesus mentioned homosexuality was a sin in the four Gospels?” said Dr. Love. He paused as his blue eyes scanned the audience, as if looking for an answer. Then, he added, “Not once!”

A short titter raced through the audience.

“That’s right, not once,” said Dr. Love. “Wouldn’t you think that such a supposed vile and abominable sin as homosexuality would have at least been mentioned once by our Lord? He mentioned divorce as a sin. He mentioned greed and idolatry. But not once did he mention homosexuality.”

Dr. Love spent the half hour laying out the hypothesis that homosexuality was not a sin by what Jesus did and did not mention. He referred to Jesus’ words, the red letter ones of the four Gospels, as the framework for Christianity.

When Dr. Love finished, the audience softly clapped their approval. He backed away from the podium and walked over to his chair on the right side of the stage.

“Mr. Simon,” said the moderator, “are you ready?”

Paul Simon nodded.

The audience checked him out as he walked from his chair to the podium. His short stature, undistinguished features and ill-fitting sport coat were noticed by all. Who let this country yokel in here? The audience collectively wondered.

“Jesus’ main message was about the Kingdom of God,” said Simon, in a stammering voice. “The Apostle Paul further defined the Kingdom when he wrote: ‘Don’t you realize that those who do wrong will not inherit the Kingdom of God. Don’t fool yourselves. Those who indulge themselves in sexual sin, or who worship idols, or commit adultery, or are male prostitutes, or practice homosexuality, or are thieves, or greedy people, or drunkards, or are abusive, or cheat people—none of these will inherit the Kingdom of God.”

Simon caught his breath before proceeding, “The apostle Paul also stated that the Kingdom does not consist in words, but in power.”

Next, Simon stepped to the side of the podium and switched on his lapel microphone. Every eye watched him.

“When I was asked to replace the featured Christian debater, I told them I’m not a great speaker and I had two requests. One was for a lapel microphone. And two, I asked to be allowed to demonstrate my position on the Kingdom of God. They agreed to both of my requests,” he said as he walked down the steps of the stage to the audience level.

He walked over to a woman sitting in a wheelchair next to a front row seat.

“Ma’am, would you please stand up?” he asked.

“What?” said the thin lady who looked to be thirty years old, “I can’t stand up. I’m totally paralyzed and have been since an auto accident twenty years ago.”

“In Jesus’ name, stand up,” proclaimed the man.

She jumped out of the wheelchair. Then, realizing what happened, she walked and ran and jumped. She screamed, “I’m healed.”

Her parents ran to her and joined the celebration.

Simon turned away from the lady and continued praying for other people. A blind man received his sight. A woman’s lungs were cleared of emphysema. A college football player’s knee was healed. He prophesied over people and prayed for many others.

When his half hour was up, Simon returned to the podium. He turned toward Dr. Love and said, “Let’s see you confirm your teachings with miracles, signs and wonders. If you can’t, then why should anyone listen to you?”

Dr. Love stood up and walked off the stage, not looking back at the apostle of God.

And my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith would not rest in the wisdom of men, but on the power of God. (1 Corinthians 2:4-5)

This is only a glimpse of the near future because the apostles are coming.

(Continued in Part 2)

This series is a continuation of the earlier eight part series which can be seen here.

Have you ever seen World War II films showing German bombers flying over London and anti-aircraft guns firing up in the air at them? Every fourth or fifth bullet was a phosphorous tracer shell so the artillerymen can track their firing and adjust their aims. The skies lit up with these phosphorous bullets of light heading toward targets overhead.

This was what it reminded me of when I looked up because thousands of bullets of light ripped through the heavens toward the spirit of depravity. The bullets came out of San Francisco, from other American cities, from foreign lands and especially out of China and Korea. None seemed off-target. They converged at a specific point on a force field of some kind that shielded the principality. The force field appeared to have a spiritual life to it.

As I continued watching, I noticed a weakening in the force field. A small crack appeared. The look on the principality’s face revealed the alarm and terror it felt from the damage inflicted on its protective shield. The spirit reacted by accelerating its ticker-tape barrage upon the earth below.

“This spiritual warfare is being waged by chosen intercessors against the spirit of depravity. Many of the prayer warriors are former gays, lesbians, sexual perverts, women who had abortions, people involved in the abortion industry and even babies who have survived abortion attempts on them. They have been washed in the Lamb’s blood and delivered from their pasts. Now, they are used – along with others – by the Lord God of Hosts as His air force against Satan’s forces.”

Air force? I thought. The Lord has an air force. Does He have marines? Or a navy, too?

“The small crack in the principality’s force field has come about because of an orchestrated prayer effort by prayer warriors, fasting and proclaiming Psalm 2:8 and Ephesians 3:10 into the heavens.” He touched his ear. “Listen.”

I heard the combined voices of thousands of intercessors praying: “Lord, we ask You to give us the heathen in San Francisco as an inheritance and a possession for Your kingdom. And in Jesus’ name, we command the principalities and powers to let go of San Francisco.”

He remained silent for a few moments before he picked up the conversation again.

“Now, the good news,” he said. “The crack allows the Lord to send a Special Forces combatant into San Franciscoto do some heavy damage on the enemy’s defenses.”

I swallowed hard. A question bubbled up within me.

“A special forces combatant?”

“Jeremiah, you’re the combatant.”

“But – ”

His eyes narrowed.

“Yes?”

“Why not just continue using prayer? It seems to be working.”

“Every battle, every war is different. Jesus, the Commander in Chief, knows best what is needed to bring forth a victory. You need to follow His plan.”

My mind reeled.

“Please, help me understand what I’ve just witnessed.”

“The first woe on San Francisco was a shot across the bow – just to get everyone’s attention. As far as any damage inflicted on the spiritual government over the city, it was minimal. A slight bump in the road for the spirit of depravity. And then, it has been back to normal, business as usual. This time will be different.

“But to truly understand spiritual warfare, you need to remember: Satan was an archangel who understands the government of God. When he rebelled, he became the father of lies and there’s no truth in him. Everything Satan attempts to do is a lying counterfeit of what God does and how God governs.”

He glanced at me, making sure I was on the same page with him.

“Satan’s army wears protective armor just like Christians do, but the demonic armor is the exact opposite of God’s armor. Their loins are girded with lies; their breastplates are unrighteousness; their feet are shod with chaos; they have shields of fear; they wear helmets of eternal doom; and their swords are the lying words of Satan. But there is one important similarity common to both God’s army and Satan’s forces. Can you guess what it is?”

I shook my head.

“Unity,” he said. “Both armies’ success depends on unity. God’s army is unified through faith in God and love of God and the brethren. Satan’s forces are unified in their hatred of God and His followers – and – their fear of God, Satan, each other and bold believers.

“The crack reveals a successful chipping away in the unity and resolve of Satan’s army by the intercessors’ prayers and proclamations of truth. It’s wide enough now for your upcoming prophetic words to enter through it, and then out into the spiritual atmosphere over the city. There your prophetic words will confront speculations and thoughts that are opposed to the obedience of Christ in San Francisco.”

“Will the spirit of depravity counterattack?” I asked, remembering how the principality increased its barrage right after the crack appeared.

“Yes. All wars are filled with attacks and counterattacks, but your prophecies will provide a needed weapon which the saints can use to fight the good fight.”

He stared at me and the silence stretched for nearly a minute.

“The counterattack will be especially rough for you, but His grace will be sufficient,” he said. “Now, I have instructions for you.”

Then, he told me. As he spoke, the gift of faith embraced me.

The above is an excerpt from my soon to be published book, Jonah.

The soon coming prophets will destroy fortresses in cities which have seemed impenetrable for the gospel until now.

For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but divinely powerful for the destruction of fortresses. (2 Corinthians 10:4)

(Conclusion for now. Next week, the apostles.)