Baptism, Deliverance and Visions of Two Children - Jesse Snow

My guest blogger today is Jesse Snow. This was posted on his Facebook page.

I was recently babysitting my friends' two daughters and as I was praying in tongues one of them asked me how I learned to speak in tongues. I said I didn't learn because it's not a skill it's a gift that anyone can receive for free. She asked me why I do it and I told her about how incredible it is. She asked me how she could do it to and I said "if you want it we can pray and Jesus will give it to you." 

Her little sister said she wanted in as well, so after going through some scriptures on the subject I prayed with them and they started speaking in tongues. When they did the older girl said she thought she was just producing the language with her mind, so I wrote some math problems down as well as the instructions "draw a picture of a butterfly" on a piece of paper. I had her start speaking in tongues and then handed her the paper to fill out. She spoke fluently in tongues while completing all of it. Then to confirm it even more I had her put headphones on and listen to music so that she couldn't hear herself, but she was still speaking fluently without hearing herself or producing it with her mind.

While she was listening to music I led the younger sister in this prayer: "Jesus, reveal yourself to me." Then I prayed in tongues over her for a couple minutes and asked her if she saw anything. She excitedly began describing a detailed vision where she was in a garden with Jesus. He put his hand on her head, hugged her and kissed her.

Then we prayed for her older sister the same way. She had a vision where there was a bright light outside her window. She went out her window to the light and saw a king with brown hair, a beard, and a white robe (aka Jesus). He hugged her and kissed her then took her hand and they started flying. He took her up to heaven where she saw lots of kids playing in a park and having lots of fun. She also said she picked an apple off a tree and it was the most delicious apple she had ever tasted. She then saw lots of seats and older people sitting on the seats, including her grandma and grandpa (who died before she was born).

She looked into Jesus' eyes and then went into them and was walking with Jesus next to an ocean that was really big, blue, beautiful, totally clear and smooth. I told her that what she saw was the sea of glass and that John wrote about in the Revelation (Rev.4:6, 15:2). She has since been to heaven a few more times, hugged her grandparents, and met angels.

By this time the girls were eager to pray and experience more of Jesus. I would lay hands on them and pray for them in tongues (anybody can do this by the way, its really easy w/ kids because they have much stronger vision in the spirit world than we do) and they would close their eyes and relax while Jesus took them into a vision. He never ran out of things to show them.

The problem was that each time the younger girl had a vision, it would start off well but then end badly. She would come out of the vision with a fright saying "Ah! That was scary!" The first time I thought she just misinterpreted the vision, but the next time it happened and she described what she was seeing I realized it was not something that Jesus would have shown her. She became afraid of praying anymore. So I said "We're going to pray and get rid of these bad guys that are trying to scare you okay?"

Now, I don't normally go around commanding demons to surface in 6-year-olds, but I realized that something was there abusing my little sister so I wanted to get rid of it. I commanded any poopheads (didn't use the words demons much, wanted to keep it playful and un-intimidating for the girls) present to manifest and she started hearing their voices loud and clear in her head.

Their were 11 demons in her. How does a 6-year-old manage to have 11 demons you ask? Its because the idea that only drug users, witches, and ppl involved in terrible sins can have demons is a myth. When you start doing deliverance you see how the enemy really works. I've cast demons out of people that were assigned to them at birth. Demons can often see the call of God on someone's life and attack them simply because they want to prevent you from fulfilling your destiny, even though you may be completely innocent and have done none of the things people think you have to do to get a demon. If you aren't spiritually equipped (and children usually aren't, but are very vulnerable) it will enter in and that's how people end up having demons their whole lives without even realizing it. Back to what happened..

The demon in charge started speaking up and the girl was speaking in a hissing voice to describe what she was hearing (it wasn't speaking through her directly, although that happens at times). It called itself morte ("death"). It said a lot of horrible things to the girl like, "We're going to kill you and celebrate your death," "no one's going to come to your funeral because nobody cares about you," "you're going to die because your parents don't love you," and "we are going to take Jesus off his throne and kill him." They even gave her a vision of putting fire on Jesus' butt and him running around frantically trying to put it out. They mocked, threatened, lied, and said all the typical stuff that poopheads usually say. Nothing that an innocent young child would come up with on their own. They also said, "Tell him to quit calling us poopheads!" and "He's stupid, quit listening to him".

The older sister (who is 11 yrs old) told her younger sister, "Just lift your hand up to them and use Jesus' magic and go (insert power-blasting noise here)." The only way they know how to call the power of God is "Jesus' magic" but hey, they already know how to use it better than most people with the right terminology.

So the younger girl went into her imagination (By the way grown ups, that means she began to engage the spirit world) and did in a vision what her sister told her to do. Then a big smile came on her face as she opened her eyes and said "They all went out of my head! They're gone!" and she actually saw Jesus show up in the room and start dancing and singing about how she was delivered. She said "He's right behind you dancing and singing" and she stood up and showed us how Jesus was dancing and sang the song he was singing.

After her little sister's deliverance, the older sister said, "You know, the only thing I'm afraid of is mirrors." "Why?" I asked. She then told me about nightmares she had for a while during which she came to sleep in her parents room because she was afraid (by the way-  parents, don't just brush off these things with your children. If you try to tell them the "monsters" aren't real it won't help them because that doesn't get rid of the attacks and the kids won't believe you anyway. Real or not, they scare the heck out of children, so you need to pray with kids and teach them how to use the power and authority of Jesus over the enemy).

In her nightmares there was a mirror with a woman in it who wanted to kill her. The woman had long black hair, pale white skin, black lips and black blood running out of her mouth.

So we prayed. During deliverances the person will always feel, hear, or see demonic manifestations (or a combination of the 3). So far every time I've done a deliverance with a child they have had visions (as well as other manifestations). This girl saw a big demon holding a mirror in front of it with the same lady as in her nightmares. Behind the big demon were countless smaller demons. When the demon showed up I told the girl to do the same thing she told her little sister to do (use "Jesus' magic to kill it"). She had her eyes closed and her facial expression got very tense, after less than 10 seconds her face relaxed again and she opened her eyes, saying "I did it! I killed him!"

Kids are really good at thrashing devils. "Great! Now what about the woman in the mirror?" I asked. She said the woman was still there but wasn't in the mirror anymore (the demon shattered the mirror for some reason). I said "Okay now do the same thing." She closed her eyes again and her face got tense, but then she said "Its hard, can you help me?" so I said sure.

I asked the little sister to come help, so she laid hands on her big sis and prayed in tongues. I did the same thing. The older sister saw her sister and I appear next to her in her vision and she felt stronger, then she killed the evil lady and all the other smaller demons ran away. Deliverance! Even more fun with kids :)

A few minutes after this the little sister said "Ah! They all came back into my head again!" She got really upset and started crying. I said "Its okay, you're okay, we'll just do the same thing again and this time we're not going to let anything come back." I prayed for her and the demons manifested.. They told her, "The others were going to kill you, but they left so now we are going to kill you." More empty words, as usual. Her older sister instructed her again, "Just close the door and put up the sign, and do this (she crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave a defiant sigh *Humph!"). Her little sister came out of her vision, very happy and excited again, and said she did what her sister advised and they all ran away!

I taught them more about how to resist demons and not let them come back when they try to, then taught them to start seeing angels. By "taught" I mean I just prayed "Father open their eyes to see angels" (see 2 Kings 6:17) and told them "Close your eyes and look for the angels that are in this room." (They had already seen demonic spirits, so might as well see God's ministering spirits too!)

The older sister saw several angels including our personal guardian angels that looked like us (see Acts 12:15). One of the angels was brushing its teeth and I thought "That's kinda strange," but then Holy Spirit let me know it was a sign to the girls to speak life and not to speak evil, so I taught them for a bit about the power of their words.

Healing the World: Combining the Gift of Healing with Poverty Reduction

My guest blogger today is Michael Grenholm, who describes himself as a 'charismatic activist' from Sweden. His blog can be found at Holy Spirit Activism.

In his great autobiography Voice in the Night, South African pastor Surprise Sithole shares an amazing event that happened shortly after he had met his present co-worker Heidi Baker, director for Iris Ministries, for the first time.

Cholera had struck a community, and being a highly contagious disease that could lead to death, most people would run the other way. Surprise and Heidi went straight into the fire. They had to argue with the health workers for a long time before they could enter the hospital tent. Inside, the stench was horrible and the suffering of the people even greater. 

Surprise writes: 

"Heidi walked straight into this disgusting, foul-smelling, life-threatening mess. She knelt down beside people to pray for them. She lovingly wiped the perspiration from their foreheads. She took the children in her arms and hugged and kissed them - pouring out her life again and again. Her courage and grace amazed me, and I tried my best to follow her example."

As they prayed, more and more got healed, rising from their beds with their symptoms gone. For those who weren't healed, they loved and hugged them and brought them clean water. Amazingly, neither Heidi nor Surprise came down with Cholera after this event.

Isn't this wonderful? The Bible is full of examples when the gift of healing is used to help the poor. The blind beggar Barthimeus gets healed in Mark 10, the lame beggar outside the temple gets healed in Acts 3. The gift of healing isn't just good at getting rid of sickness but also poverty.

Healing grows out of compassion. It is when we love the sick and share their pain that we will be able to pray effectively for them. Likewise, poverty reduction and humanitarian activism grow out of compassion. If we like to talk about and pray for healing, but aren't passionate about alleviating suffering and saving lives through supporting aid relief, are we really driven by compassion? If we really care for people's well-being, we cannot ignore poverty.

The needs are enormous. One billion people live in extreme poverty, that is on less than 1.5 dollars a day. 800 million go to bed hungry each night. Every year, 200 million people are affected by natural disasters. Billions lack sufficient health care. Billions lack a toilet. 1 John 3:17 says that if we have material resources and see our brother in need but close out hearts for him, the love of God cannot abide in us. If we are able to help, we have to help. 20 % of the world's population consume 80 % of the world's resources. The West is plundering the Rest. But God wants it to be equal for all (2 Cor 8:13).

People like Surprise Sithole and Heidi Baker are good at combining healing with poverty reduction. Let's join them in that cause. Jesus Himself said that the signs of Him being the Messiah are that "the blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor" (Mt 11:5).

The Three 'Knows' of Ministry

My guest blogger today is Joel Adifon. This message was originally posted here. 

In the past two years, I have read many resources on the gifts of the Spirit and ministering to people – some of them have been extremely helpful.

However, in the past two months, God has been showing me just how simple operating in the gifts was meant to be, how the phrase, ‘it’s all about relationship’ has been butchered and has been made into a terrible cliché.

Holy Spirit has been ruining my ability to listen to sermons on His gifts that stem only from principles apart from relationship with Him.

He showed me that moving in power can be boiled down to three keys (Listed here in order of important to most important).

KNOW HIS WILL – F. F. Bosworth, the famous healing evangelist, said “Faith begins where the will of God is known”. All ministry starts from this place. It is impossible to fully pray in faith until you are certain of what God’s will is for a matter.

Why?

Jesus instructed us to pray for the Father’s Kingdom to come, for His Will to be made manifest on earth as it is in Heaven (Matt 6:10). We are to restore creation to the original design, purpose, and intention that God has for it. But, if you don’t know what that is – if you don’t know that it’s always God’s Will is to always heal, always God’s Will to save, and always His Will to deliver – then you’re going have to have a hard time confidently decreeing restoration because you’ll always be second guessing yourself. It is impossible for a double-minded man to receive most things in the Kingdom, because most things in the Kingdom come by faith (Jas 1:7-8). But, knowing the Will of God is just a starting point. If this is all you have, then there is huge potential for you to get into striving and attempting to make things happen in your own strength. There’s something greater than knowing God’s Will.

KNOW HE’S GOOD – You can know the Will of God, but something happens when you become convinced of His Goodness, when you come to the realization that He wants people healed, saved, and delivered much more than you do – when you understand that He’s much more compassionate than you are. Then, your focus is no longer on trying to make a miracle happen, so much as declaring who He is in the midst of a situation and allowing the circumstance to testify of His goodness. You will see more people healed and restored because you will begin to understand the Romans 8:31 principle of, ‘If God is for me, who can be against me?”

But, have we arrived once we’ve gotten a revelation of God’s goodness?

The problem is, if we stop here, we can begin to get your identity out of showing God’s goodness to people.

What happens if the person doesn’t get set free or even dies?

You understand that it wasn’t God’s fault – but then, whose fault is it? Without a revelation of something more than just knowing God’s goodness, you will begin to turn introspective and try to find the ‘hidden sin’ or find out what you did wrong. You can have a revelation of God’s goodness, you can be conscious of the fact that God wants to see people healed, saved, and delivered more than you do, but this, in and of itself, is not a guarantee that you’ll be able to get the job done when the situation calls for it. Something higher than understanding God’s goodness needs to come into play.

KNOW HIM – Honestly, this gets so hyper-spiritualized in the Charismatic church, it’s not even funny. We have turned the prophetic into a tool for ministry, but it is so much more than that. God does not want to talk to us, just so we can tell others what He’s saying. God wants to talk to us, just because He wants to talk to us. When was the last time you went to a movie with Jesus? When was the last time you took Him out to eat and had a conversation with Him that wasn’t overtly ‘spiritual’? Honestly, too many of us, are trying to know Holy Spirit so we can be ‘good at ministry’ and not enough of us are trying to know Him, just to know Him.

Lately, I have been focusing solely on spending time with Him everywhere I am, on really walking out the revelation that there’s no separation between Jesus and I and we’re together all the time, and the results that I have been seeing have been blowing my mind. Healings are happening much faster, because I’m finally starting to act as if there’s no formula for healing, that it’s not about what I say or do, but about WHO I’m in love with. Now, it’s truly possible for me to apply the concepts I’ve learned from knowing His Goodness and knowing His Will because I can now ask the Teacher for help when I get stuck. Why?

Because I’ve learned to hear Him apart from the context of ministry and have studied (gotten acquainted with) His character and nature in everyday life and can now ‘show myself approved’ (2 Tim 2:15) – manifest what I’ve learned - as opposed to having ‘studied to show myself as being good at ministry.’

Knowing what He’s like through direct experience gained from practicing His presence make me more bold, it brings out a confidence that I wouldn’t have otherwise because Perfect Love casts out all fear (1 Jn 4:18). Not only that, but I’ve found myself being more creative in how I minister. I ask Jesus what He wants to do in the person’s body and then I participate with Him. It’s no longer about commanding or saying or doing the right thing to twist God’s arm into moving. No, His swag switches up constantly, so the way I minister does too.

Sometimes, I’ll thank Holy Spirit for something I see Him doing without my having asked Him. Other times, I’ll invite Holy Spirit to manifest His presence, watch what He’s doing, then act in response to that. Sometimes, I’ll ask Him to do something and then wait until He does. Other times, I’ll move out of my authority and watch as He backs me up. And then other times, when I ask Him what He wants to do, He’ll smile, turn to me, and say, ‘Well, my dude, what do YOU want to do?” The only way I’ll be able to move with Him this way, is if I spend time cultivating an intimacy with Him that spreads out into my normal everyday life. Learn to walk with Jesus as a real human man, learn to hear His voice, hear the desires of His heart, and encounter His personality, and flowing in the gifts will be really easy. All ministry is, is a dance with Him.

So let's recap.

KNOW HIS WILL – Knowing His Will allows faith to manifest and for you to move out of a measure of authority.

KNOW HE’S GOOD – A revelation of His Goodness empowers you to walk with the confidence that He’s backing you up and wants this thing to happen more than you do.

KNOW HIM – Knowing Jesus outside of a ‘work environment’ ;) allows you to know what He’s like and how you flow with Him. This ensures that when you get into a situation that requires hearing His Voice, you’ll be able to receive His guidance and act accordingly.

Well, I hope this helps!

Bill Johnson On Healing

Miracle Car Repair

The Facebook version of this story (with comments) can be found here.

We have this car that we bought last year for our daughter so she could go to school. It has a lot of miles on it. It's been running rough for 6 months - hesitating and stalling at intersections. My daughter moved, so we don't need it anymore, but I didn't want to sell it in this condition.

So I thought I'd begin fixing it by changing the spark plugs and a few other parts and thought maybe I could getting it running better before we sold it. On my way out to the garage to work on the car, I heard the Holy Spirit say, "Didn't I fix the iPod dock?"

(silence)

I thought, "Ummmm.....yes, Lord. You sure did."

As I walked to the tool box, I thought, "Why not? If He fixed a broken iPod dock, He could make this broken car run like it was supposed to."

So I got inside the car, closed the door and started making declarations that the ignition system would work properly and the fuel system would be cleaned out.

"Come On Angels!! Get to work on this car and make it run, in Jesus name!!

I prayed over it and made declarations for 3 or 4 minutes. Then I turned the key and drove it down the street. At the first intersection, it accelerated smoothly. It hadn't done that since I can remember. I drove it for about 10 minutes, hitting a lot of intersections.

At some intersections, I felt a little fear creep into my mind. I wondered what I would do if it started to hesitate. Sure enough, the car hesitated a little when I became fearful. So I commanded the car to be healed and kept driving.

I dealt with the fear by imagining the car accelerating smoothly through each intersection. Each time I did this - there was no hesitation.

I drove home and told my wife. She didn't believe me. So we went for a drive. The car drove perfectly and never hesitated once.

So what's the point of all this?

BELIEVE!!

Just believe that God wants to fix your broken junk!

Believe Him when He tells you things you don't have a grid for. In faith - speak to the junk and command it to work.

Get the angels to help you out. They kinda dig miracles and it keeps them busy & entertained. They like to watch unbelief vanish.

(And remember - when you're doing the happy dance before the Lord - they're dancing with you.)

Lymphoma Healed

This is the testimony of a man healed of lymphoma at one of John Mellor's meetings.

The iPod Dock Healing

The Facebook version of this story (with comments) can be found here. 

About 8 years ago, (before we were married) my wife was given a Bose iPod docking station from her son as a gift.

The docking station is a portable sound system that amplifies your iPod  Bose makes some of the best quality sound equipment and this docking station gets a lot of use. In the summer, we put it out by the pool to have music outside. It's the only thing we have for listening to music, except our computers.

About a month ago, the docking station gave up the ghost. It just stopped working. It wouldn't power up. We tried plugging it in to different outlets and did the usual troubleshooting, to no avail. Her beloved iPod dock was toast. (With no vegemite in sight.) We were pretty bummed out.

We have friends (Gwen & Larry) who had been in the area for a couple of weeks looking for home. We invited them over and planned a dinner party beside the pool.

They're a little 'outside the box' when it comes to how they walk out their life with Jesus. Gwen is the one who taught me how to command storms to cease a few years ago. She drives her car for days on an empty gas tank. She's one of those people who has incredible faith in God and knows her identity. Miracles follow her like crazy.

When they arrived, we were getting prepared. My wife took the broken docking station outside and placed in the stand on the patio - knowing that it didn't work. I didn't think much about it at the time.

We made some margaritas and got comfortable on the patio. Gwen and my wife got to talking and decide that it was time to pray over the broken iPod dock, so we could have music. (I later learned that she had this all planned out.) She believed that if, by faith, she brought it outside, plugged it in and had us pray over it, God would repair it.

So that's what we did.

The four of us stood in agreement and declared that the docking station would be repaired.

While I was praying, I saw a vision of broken electrical wires. So I commanded them to be made new. The others prayed as they were led by the Spirit. After everyone was done praying, my wife walked confidently over and turned the iPod on.

Music came forth. The docking station has worked perfectly since then.

We all rejoiced at God's gracious hand and the love He has for His kids. It was a wonderful night of telling Holy Ghost stories and praying for each other's needs.

The Voice

I awoke in the morning to the awareness that something was different. As I lay in bed, I heard a mysterious voice, softly speaking in a way that brought peace to my mind. It was not external but internal.
Internal, and yet...not mine.

It’s impossible to describe what it's like to someone who hasn't experienced it. There was a soft, whispering voice blowing gently through my soul. It wasn’t my own mind. They weren’t my thoughts. They belonged to someone else.

The thoughts were distinct and different from the type of thoughts I would think. There was a quality to the voice that was like nothing I’d ever heard. Then suddenly, I remembered what happened the night before. I asked God to give me a voice to follow. This voice seemed to be exactly that.

I went downstairs to the day room. I saw a firefighter. I was about to say something to him, but the voice gently reminded me to be kind. When I met another, the voice reminded me to say something nice instead of being sarcastic. With each person I met, the voice gave me direction. “Be nice.” “Be kind.” “Don’t be grumpy.”

“What was going on?” I wondered. “Who was this voice and how long would it be with me?”

I realized that I had been born again . The Spirit of God had come to live inside of me. The voice I heard was the voice of God Himself. I was in a state of shock to think that the God who created the stars cared enough to come down from heaven and live inside of me.

“Those born-again Christians were right all along.”

It was a bitter pill to swallow. The Jesus I had always hated was living inside of me and He had come to be my friend. The Christians I hated were now my family. Talk about having your world flipped upside down.

Although I was bitter at being proved wrong, that was a minor issue. I was, in fact filled with inexpressible joy. I was going to heaven. I was loved by God. I had finally found the meaning of life. Joy filled my heart as I meditated on the sublime beauty of the death of my savior and His life in me.

I was astonished to have survived the first day of the weekend without running a call. I knew it had to be a divine set-up. God had set aside this weekend to have a meeting with me and He had my full attention. We finally responded on a call around 9am Sunday morning to a familiar address. It was my neighbor’s house. The oldest boy, who was a diabetic, had a sudden drop in blood sugar and was unresponsive in the kitchen. We started an IV, gave him an amp of dextrose and he woke up.

“It just had to be their house,” I thought. “The only call I would go on the entire weekend and it just happened to be to the only friends I know who are Christians.” I told them what happened. They were glad to hear my testimony.

For the next month, everywhere I went, twenty four hours a day, the voice was my constant companion; telling me gently how to act or what to say. Any time I was tempted to do something selfish, the voice gave me a gentle reminder to do the right thing.

I’d been an atheist (and a Darwinist) for years. But now that I realized that I was wrong about the existence of God, I had to know what else I was wrong about. I began questioning all of my beliefs. I spent the next year researching the other side of the argument of evolution and came to the conclusion that Darwin was probably wrong. There was so much evidence against his theory; it seemed foolish to continue believing in evolution. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. The way the world worked, the reason people lived the way they did, my liberal political views and the meaning of life itself, all came under the microscope for examination.

After my conversion, I bought a transistor radio and earplug. I listened to a Christian radio station 24 hours a day. I often fell asleep to a sermon or worship music. I developed an insatiable appetite for the bible and every time I read about the crucifixion I began to cry.

The pastors I listened to said we had an obligation to ‘witness’ to those who didn’t know Jesus. After all – we didn’t want them to burn in hell or miss the rapture, did we? I had a tremendous fear that the end of the world was fast approaching and that we needed to get as many people saved as possible before the rapture. So I witnessed like there was no tomorrow.

At work, I became an overnight witness for Jesus. I told everyone what happened and threw in a little fear - mongering, trying to scare them just enough to get them to accept Jesus. I must have shared my testimony 100 times in the first few months alone. It was a ‘Road to Damascus’ conversion and I felt everyone needed to know about it. The good part was – people saw a different person from the one they had always known. The bad part was – I was turning into a religious zealot and didn’t know it.

My ‘witnessing’ wasn’t well received. I was alienating friends, family and co-workers. I told myself they didn’t like me or my testimony because they hated God. And that was perhaps partly true. But part of it was my approach. Looking back, I realize that I was full of enthusiasm, but I lacked wisdom and love. I had become an obnoxious, born-again bible thumper, but I didn’t know what else to do.

During this time I learned a lot about the church, but it would be seven years before I would meet the man (known on Facebook as 'Northwest Prophetic') who would begin to mentor me in the life of the kingdom.

About six weeks after my conversion, I noticed that the voice was beginning to fade. At the time of my conversion it was loud and clear, but now it was barely perceptible. I worried about what was happening. Jesus said, “My Sheep hear my voice” and I wasn’t hearing him very well any more. I wondered if I was losing my salvation.

I worried until I read an account from C.S Lewis about his own conversion. Lewis noted that the voice of God comes alongside of us for season, to help get us on track. But after a while, we must learn how to live from our own conscience, knowing right from wrong without needing to hear from God every time we act. Like a child who needs training wheels on their bicycle at the start, with practice, the training wheels must eventually come off.

And so the voice slowly receded and I began to walk in newness of spiritual life on my own.

Meeting Jesus

And when He has come, He will convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment...
(John 16:8)

After my partner and I buried the hatchet, the stressful work environment cooled off and things went back to normal. We were both much easier to work with. I did something I’d never done before; I gave someone with less experience permission to correct me. My partner was agreeable to the new plan, but he still kept a close eye on me. After what we’d been through, he didn’t trust me. In his eyes, trust had to be earned and I gave him a lot of reasons not to trust me. He needed to see if I was sincere about changing or if I was just blowing sunshine up his kilt.

A couple of weeks later, he told me about a book he was reading. He said it was a fictional book that discussed a lot of things that were happening in the world and he thought I might like it. I told him I wasn’t interested in fiction, but I might check it out. I asked what the name of the book was. He said it was called Left Behind.

A few weeks after this, I signed up to work a 48 hour shift on the Saturday and Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. Knowing that it was one of the busiest weekends of the year and that I’d be working the busiest medic unit in the county, I felt like I would regret the decision when it was all said and done. Who really wants to spend 48 hours getting brutalized by going on one call after another with no chance of rest?

On the Thursday before Memorial Day, my Lieutenant and I got into a conversation about a book he was reading. He said it was a great book and he thought I would find fascinating. The name of the book was Left Behind.

“Now what are the odds of that happening?” I thought. “How strange that two people would recommend the same book a few weeks apart.”

Mulling this over in my mind, he said I could borrow the book I wanted. (There were actually two volumes published in the series by then.) I didn’t think about it again until the next day. I thought maybe I should get a book to read in case it was a slow weekend, even though Memorial Day is never slow.

I called my Lieutenant and told him I wanted to pick up the books. I drove to his house and he gladly handed them over with a smile. I tossed them on the passenger seat and headed home.

I went to work the next day, expecting a busy shift. By mid-afternoon we had not run a single call. I got bored so I went to my car and got the books. I went upstairs to the medic bedroom. No one else was around, so I got cozy in my bunk and began reading. I was drawn to one character in particular; a middle-aged pilot named Rayford Steele.

Steele was a good husband to his Christian wife, but he was not a believer himself. Ray was a self-made man, who didn’t need to depend on God. He took care of things himself, ran his own affairs and didn’t feel like religion had anything to offer him. Ray was also confident that if there were a God, he would probably make it into heaven. It wasn’t like he was a serial killer or pedophile. He was a good man, for the most part. The way he saw it – the minor things he struggled with, like the occasional crush on a flight attendant could hardly bar him from entering heaven. As I read about his life, I realized that Ray was a lot like me.

The story line revolves around the rapture, which happens a few chapters into the book. Ray is piloting a plane, when a bunch of passengers disappear, unexpectedly. He lands the plane and with fear, drives home, hoping to find his wife is still there. She’d been warning him that the times were drawing near when those who loved Jesus would be removed from the earth in the rapture. Steele comes home and finds his daughter and wife gone. He realizes they were right all along and he knows from listening to their discussions that 7 years of tribulation lie ahead.

(For those of you who do not hold to this view of eschatology – please refrain from leaving argumentative comments below. I’m not endorsing this view. I’m just reporting on what the book is about.)

As I watched Ray’s story unfold, I began to realize that I was in the same place he was. I knew with certainty that if your connection to Jesus was what qualified you to get into heaven, I was never going to get in. I hated Jesus and I despised His followers. I had a hard time even saying His name without feeling disgust and loathing. Years ago, I had rejected the religious hypocrisy I witnessed as a kid. I had no need for religion or religious bigots and certainly didn’t want to be one. Yet I knew that if Jesus was my ticket to haven, I was bound to spend eternity in hell.

As I read, I encountered the message of God’s love, displayed in the death of Jesus. This wasn’t a new concept to me. I’d known about the death of Jesus and his resurrection since I was a boy. But I never thought he died for me. I never thought I needed to do anything with it. I mean – yeah, I understood that His death was a factual event, but it never meant anything to me personally, until this moment.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about him suffering and dying for me.

For me?

Why did God care about me? I was just another guy trying to live his own life and stay out of trouble. Why did He care about me?

As I lay there in bed thinking about eternity, I sensed something or someone in the room with me. I knew I wasn’t alone. I began having a conversation in my mind with someone who seemed to know everything about me.

“I’m a good person”, I thought. “Why do I need Jesus?”

Suddenly my mind began to recall every selfish thing I’d ever done and every mean thing I’d ever said. This presence that was with me, challenged me. “Are you really a good person? What about all these terrible things you’ve done?”

I didn’t believe in God. But I was becoming aware that this presence in the room with me was probably God. How else could I explain what was happening?

There was no way to hide my past. Thinking about the selfish things I’d done, how could I call myself a good person? I wasn’t a murderer, but I certainly wasn’t a saint.

I closed my eyes and tried to block out the thoughts He was bringing to my remembrance. With my eyes closed, I saw an iron gate and just beyond the gate - flames. I knew I was looking into hell. And I knew that hell was where I deserved to spend eternity.

I wept off and on for hours, wrestling with the fear of spending eternity in hell and giving in to God. I now know that the forces of darkness and the forces of heaven were engaged in a terrible battle over my soul that day. My mind was bombarded with fearful thoughts; “What people would think if I became one of those religious hypocrites?”

I didn’t want to be a believer. I tried desperately to fight the feelings of surrender, but I was loosing the battle. I felt like I was suspended between heaven and earth. I clung desperately to the life I had, but I was losing my grip. I had to make a decision. I knew that if I let go of my life, I would drop into the unknown abyss that lie beyond my comprehension. But if I clung to my present life, I would spend eternity in darkness.
It was late in the evening when I finally surrendered. Broken and desperate, I said, “God… I don’t believe in you. But I give up. I’m tired of living for myself. My life is a mess and I can’t fix it. I don’t know how to change. I can’t do it myself. If you want me to change, you need to give me a voice or something to follow.”

After saying these words, I fell asleep in a puddle of tears.

Feeling The Heat

The time-frame for this post is April of 2002

Pride. Arrogance. Self-confidence. The stuff Fire-Medics are made of.

I’d reached a place in my life where I was so full of pride I wouldn’t take correction from my partner. He was younger and less experienced, but I knew he was right. I was making some bad decisions. I just didn’t want to admit it.

Whenever he questioned my decision-making, I resisted his arguments with my own and made excuses. I found things to accuse him of. He accused me. I accused him. He blamed me. I blamed him. We were like a couple of unruly kinds in a sandbox. The problem is – we were supposed to be professionals doing an important job. Making a mistake can cost someone their life.

The tension was so bad that everyone noticed it. The whole department began walking on eggshells for fear of setting one of us off. We had a meeting with the Assistant Chief and asked to be split up. He laughed and told us we were stuck with each other. We began keeping journals of each other’s mistakes. When you’re afraid that your partner is out to get you – paranoia sets in. Eventually, my Lieutenant suggested that I see a counselor. I didn’t think I needed one, but I agreed to anyway.

I saw a counselor who specialized in work-related mental health problems. I drove to his office once a week for 5 or 6 visits. He saw nothing unusual in my behavior, so he cleared me to return to work without restrictions. In his professional opinion, I was just fine. But in my heart, I knew I was reaching the end of my rope.

My partner and I were best friends for years. But now, because of pride and my unwillingness to admit that I was wrong, we couldn’t stand being in the same room. We were shacked together for 24 hours, every third day. Wherever he went, I went. We fought fires together, ate together and slept in the same room together. It was driving us both crazy.

The stress fractures in my mind were turning me into an emotional mess. Something had to give.

I remember like it was yesterday. There we were, returning to the station from a call. I was weary from the battle of defending my lies. I knew there was no hope of ever reconciling with him unless I waved the white flag of surrender and stopped playing games. My will to keep up the charade was gone. I just wanted peace. So I told him I was sorry for all the crap I’d put him through. I told him he was right and I was wrong. I was making bad decisions and my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit it. I told him it was all my fault. Through a river of tears, I told him I was sorry for destroying our friendship.

He sat in the passenger seat speechless.

I confessed all the junk I could think of and asked him to forgive me. As soon as I did, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. What the heck was happening?

Eventually, he agreed that it was best to bury the hatchet, forgive and forget and move forward with life. It was finally over. We talked about my problems and gradually, our friendship was restored. It took time, but we were on our way to having the kind of partnership we had years ago. I felt better than I had in years.

In a few short weeks, I would meet God for the first time in my life and it would happen at the fire station.

The Fall of a Fire-Medic

Editor's note: This message was posted previously. It's being re-posted as the first of a four-part series on my first encounter with Jesus.

"Arrogance is believing you’re more important than others. Pride is believing you’re more important than God." ~ Michael Sawh

November 1981

The Greyhound bus pulled into the station in downtown Minneapolis. I needed to stretch my legs so I grabbed my bag and waited for the bus to come to a stop. I took my place in line behind an elderly man and waited for the door to open. The old man stepped down. As his feet hit the blacktop, he lost his balance and veered into a concrete pillar, striking his head. I instinctively grabbed him by the jacket and lowered him to the ground. The laceration on his forehead began to ooze a little blood.

I asked if he had neck or back pain. He didn’t. It was a minor impact, so I didn’t need to worry about immobilizing him. I asked if he was hurt anywhere else. He said he felt fine, except for the wound to his head.  I helped him stand up and walked him into the terminal. We looked for an empty seat. A security guard spotted us. A few minutes later the paramedics arrived.

They dropped their gear and began assessing the old man. I was just a few weeks away from becoming and EMT, so I watched intently. They urged him to go with them to the hospital, but he didn’t feel like going. He was on his way to Fargo, North Dakota to meet his grandkids. The medics insisted that he go. He insisted he would be fine. They argued back and forth and it turned ugly. The medics used every kind of coercion they could think of to get him to go, but he refused.

I was shocked that they seemed so indifferent to his situation. They didn’t care about the fact that he was in a strange town with no friends or family. It seemed like the only thing they cared about was their own liability. What would happen if, in a few hours, something happened to him?  They might be liable. Their fears about liability were more important than the man’s right to do what he wanted.

I told them I was an EMT and offered to sit next to him for the remainder of the trip. If anything happened, I’d let the bus driver know and he could radio for help. Reluctantly, the medics let him sign the release form. They hopped in their ambulance and departed.

“What arrogant bastards”, I thought. I swore to myself that night that I would never become a proud, arrogant fire - medic.

Fast forward to April of 2000

I was working as a paramedic for the fire department of the city where I lived. I tested highest out of all the applicants. I had already done my stint as a flight paramedic. I was in the prime of my career. I’d finally made it to the top.

A big part of the job of a medic is critical decision-making. In the system I worked in, we didn’t transport all the patients we saw. We triaged them and transported the most serious. The less serious ones went with a private ambulance staffed by EMT’s or they went by car. Some patients were left at home, if the condition didn’t warrant treatment. The question we dealt with on every call was – do they require a paramedic intervention in the next 30 minutes or not? If the answer was ‘no’, we usually sent them by private ambulance or by car.

I’d been having problems with my partner for a couple of years. Sometimes we disagreed about who should go with us. He thought I was making bad decisions. I thought my decisions were fine. Well, actually – deep down inside, I knew he was right. I was making some bad decisions. But I’d become so proud and arrogant that I couldn’t admit I was wrong.  I’d become the arrogant fire-medic that I swore I'd never become.

It was pride and arrogance and a deep sense of worthlessness that brought me to despise what I had become a year earlier. It was brokenness that led me to embrace Jesus as my savior on May 25th, 2000.  In the year since my conversion, I’d begun seeing things differently, though I still struggled with pride at times.

My partner Jim took on the role of preceptor for paramedic students. One day we responded on a call with a student, who was doing his first ride. We saw a man in his fifties who had been having chest pain for two hours. Jim and the medic student interviewed the patient. I talked with his wife and got his list of medications. After a few minutes we met and discussed the plan.

Our patient had been seen in the Emergency Department five hours earlier for the exact same symptoms. Same length of time. Same everything. They did the usual tests and found nothing suggesting a cardiac event. They gave him a GI cocktail and his symptoms resolved. They wrote it off as indigestion and sent him home.

When Jim called the hospital, he spoke with the doctor who saw our patient five hours earlier. He remembered the case. He had the man’s EKG and labs in front of him. Jim thought he was stable enough to go by car to his private doctor. The doctor agreed. I was shocked that they didn’t want us to transport him. I understood their reasoning, but with a paramedic student onboard, I thought we were setting a bad example and my gut told me this was a bad decision. I argued that we should transport him. Jim argued back. I gave him all the seasons I could think of for transporting him. Jim said, “Look buddy. I already called base station and the doc agreed. We’re not transporting him.”

We had the man sign a release form and we left the scene. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. We went to the bagel shop for breakfast. Before we could order we got a call for a cardiac arrest in the parking lot at a doctor’s office.  My heart sank. Somehow, I knew it was him.

The engine company was already on scene when we arrived. The parking lot was a mess. The staff from the clinic had dragged out all their junk into the parking lot and had it strewn all over the place. We dropped our gear and went to work. Jim let the student call the shots. He was nervous as hell. He recognized the man we were doing CPR on. We’d just seen him 20 minutes earlier.

My role in the resuscitation was to hand drugs to Jim and chart the times they were given. Each time I handed him an amp of epinephrine or atropine I said, “Jim – it’s him”, trying to let him know it was the guy we’d just seen. But somehow, Jim never recognized him.

The story we got from the engine company was that his wife was driving him to the clinic when he became unresponsive. In a panic, she drove the rest of the way and alerted the clinic when she got there.

I noticed his wife pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. I walked near where she was and made eye contact trying to convey with a look, my sadness. We intubated, pushed the usual drugs and did CPR, but never got a pulse back. After 20 minutes, we called the hospital and got permission to stop the resuscitation. The engine company gathered their gear and split. The nurses from the clinic moved their stuff inside. We called the medical examiner and gave them the info and began cleaning up our mess.

It was times like this when I thought about quitting medicine. My thoughts took on more sobriety than they had in years.

“We killed our patient. If he’d been in our unit when he had his cardiac arrest, we could have shocked him and he’d probably still be alive. Our own stupidity caused his death. And we did it with a friggin’ paramedic student onboard. Great. Some heroes we are.”

I felt absolutely worthless.

In the back of the rig, I talked with Jim. Once again I simply said, “It’s him”.
Jim had heard enough. He raised his voice and snapped back, “Hey buddy…What the hell are you talking about?”

I replied, “Do you remember the guy with chest pain that we left at home this morning? That dead guy in the parking lot is him.”

He was speechless. The gravity of the situation began to grow heavier. He looked out the back window. I quietly said, “You see that lady crying next to the body….that’s his wife.”

We got our gear put away and returned to the station. Jim stormed around the medic office the rest of the day, being pissed off at himself. I suffered the rest of the shift in silent regret. The paramedic student would go through a de-briefing with the Captain.

Pride goes before a fall. And sometimes the impact proves fatal.

Reply To 'The Helicopter Dream'

I received a private message today from Sara - the woman who had the helicopter dream. After reading my message, she  wanted to share a little more about the dream and her thoughts on how God set things up. The original story can be found here.  

"Sorry about the slow response, I really wanted to write how this had all gone down, I'm glad you shared it......I'm currently on a Facebook fast but when I saw this in my email I had to check it out. I could tell you held back a little, just unsure of what to share or not, so if you want, here's the full version from my perspective.

A few months back I had a dream. I awoke in my house to find small flames everywhere. The walls, floor, etc and I was alarmed at first thinking my house is on FIRE! I quickly realized these flames were contained and not spreading. I looked out my window to see them outside too, so I went into my front yard (which as I say write these realize could represent my future? Front yard/ future? duh)

I could see these little flames all over my property and all the way to town. (we live 14 miles out of town in western Nebraska) I feel the urge to get to town as a rescue helicopter flies into the scene. I literally hear that it's carrying a message that's really important that I need to remember. It hovers and I see LAM 10:15 on the side of the chopper. I assume that is the message and focus intently on what that could mean for weeks. The chopper flies off and all the sudden I'm back in my house.

I see a mirror in the living room, full length and I'm hesitant to walk to it. I do anyway and see a reflection of a young girl. Pre-teen years who is crying and upset. She keeps crying and talking but I can't understand what she's saying. She starts to transform physically. I compare it to a meth-makover advertisement you see on the billboards but instead of going from good to worse, the reflection gets better and better.

Physically the girl is transforming but as she's changing and the tears are leaving and the sadness and grief are too. There is a healing taking place on the inside so profound it's affecting her physical appearance on the outside. I never do understand a word the reflection says, but as she's changed a normalcy returns to her image and she's at peace.....Then I wake up.

My obvious reaction was the message that I was suppose to remember whatever the helicopter was bringing. Upon my daily Facebook check I scroll across a picture of the medic chopper on PM's sight and realize THAT"S THE CHOPPER from my dream! I focused on the LAM 10:15 for weeks thinking it was a bible verse or some coded answer to something the Holy Spirit is trying to speak to me. I prayed, I sought interpretation, all to little prevail......Until one day I see Praying Medic has a post about his life story he's writing about and I'll be completely transparent and honest, the title was intriguing. (Sorry PM, it was.)

I start reading about his affair. His emotions, his turmoil, his raw desires, his regret, his pain, his torture somehow spoke to a side of me I didn't know needed spoke to. I related to his daughter who he was close to and then had her world ripped out from under her feet.

A mere week or two before I found out what my dad had done I remembered thinking how great he was, how lucky I was, how I wanted to find a guy just like him someday......Then in a blink, that pedestal you put them on is incinerated and your life flipped upside down. Somehow I could never see things from his perspective. I thought to be able to do something like that he must not of loved us at all. I thought all the times he was good, must have been a lie. All the times he pretended to care, fake. Because you certainly couldn't run your family through a shredder like he had if you cared at all.......That's what I thought.

Then warp speed 18 years and I'm reading a post from a person who's done almost the same thing. But I hear his heart. Through adult lenses I realize what he did was just for himself. Not an intentional attack to crush his children and wife. I empathized with his pain, and saw his heart. He did what he did to fill something void inside him. It's really that simple. It didn't mean he didn't regret it, it didn't mean he didn't love his kids enough, it just meant he made a mistake.

As I'm reading the post I'm balling like a baby. Reliving my event realizing sometimes we get caught in the crossfire of other people's mistakes, but those mistakes aren't about us. That arrow wasn't intended for us, it just happen to hit where it hurts. Forgiveness allows us to release OURSELVES from other people's mistakes.

Sitting at a computer on Facebook I realized the message the Medic helicopter would bring was one I wouldn't even know I was looking for. One of forgiveness and a realization that we have a Father, a good and perfect one. He never lets us down, He makes no mistakes, He's safe to put on a pedestal. He comes with a message of perfect love and wants us all to experience that. When we can set our gaze onto that, somehow the actions and mistakes of the ones around us seem a little less important, seem a little more forgivable, and that's His grace. It frees the person who made a mistake or maybe just the one caught in the crossfire. It frees us all. Amazed, humbled, and awed at the Holy Spirit's intricate set of events, seemingly random and unconnected, that heal and transform in a way only a perfect Father can.

My deepest thanks to you and your family PM. For putting your self on the chopping block and having the courage to face whatever came. There is healing that can only come from honestly and forgiveness. I found mine and it is my sincere prayer you all have found yours. I guess He really can turn a mess into a message can't He?

I realized there were parts of the dream I had condensed out of my email and wanted you to have the full version I've been intending on sending. you don't have to change anything you wrote. It's great. I just wanted you to know the full version of what had taken place. Feel free to share as you like or keep.....Thanks again for sharing God Bless."