Willena's Dream

By Willena Brooks, as told to the Church of Glad Tidings 12/27/08

I want to tell you about this dream I had. Right after the dream I woke up, went back to sleep and dreamed the same dream all over again. In the dream I was with Jesus in what looked like a warehouse full of car parts. It was just Jesus and me in this warehouse. There were parts everywhere, and in looking at them, I realized they were to my car. I knew that much, but didn’t have a clue how to put them together again. “Jesus must know how to do this,” I thought, “after all, He is God.” But Jesus wasn’t doing anything about putting them together. In fact, He seemed OK with them strewn all over the floor. This began to bug me and I wondered, “Why doesn’t He do something?” The fact that I was upset with Jesus upset me more, because I knew it wasn’t right to be upset with Him. Still, as time went by, I found it harder and harder not to be upset with Him, as He seemed perfectly content to let my car languish in pieces on the warehouse floor.
Suddenly the Holy Spirit spoke to me, “Honey,” He said, “why are you upset with Jesus? If you have Jesus with you, do you really need anything else?”
Whoa, Jesus with me; the One who walks on water, rides on the wings of the wind, calms the storm with a word, provides manna in the wilderness and water from a rock…. What was I thinking? What in the world did I need the car for?

Treasure Hunt

by David Hobbs

Have you ever heard of a Christian “Treasure Hunt?” You get a piece of paper with the categories “Color, Location,” and “Message.” Then you pray and ask God to put on your heart something for each category to help you find the people God wants to speak to. For color: you might get "blue," for location: the "Sears" store in the mall, and for message: it might be “marriage” if perhaps the person is contemplating divorce. Then, after getting prayed up, you go to the Sears store in the mall and look for someone in blue clothes. When you find a person matching the description, you go up and say something like, “Hi, my name is David and you might be the person I’m looking for.”
“How’s that?”
“I believe God sent me here to pray for someone wearing blue about their marital situation. Is that you? Do you need prayer for your marriage?” When that hits right-on the results are phenomenal! People cry, they shake, they stagger… especially if they have a real need, which will be the people God sends you to.
I did this for the first time last night. But first let me tell you about Patty who was on the other team. Patty had the colors "red" and "yellow" and the location as the "Hallmark" Card store. She saw a lady in Hallmark with a red jacket on. When she went up to her, she found she was wearing a yellow tee-shirt under the jacket! Patty told her that she believed God had sent Patty to pray for her and then showed her the piece of paper with the information written on it. The woman began to cry. She said she was there with her sisters, that they were in the process of burying their mother, and someone else in the family had died recently too--it was a real hard time for them. And when they realized that God understood, that He cared so much about their situation He had sent someone specifically to pray for them. It was a very poignant time!

In another encounter, Patty found a man and after explaining how she had been led to him, asked him what was going on in his life that she could pray for. He told her he had just run into his ex whom he had left because she wouldn’t quit smoking pot. But when he embraced her that morning, his old feelings for her came back and his ex told him she had quit pot. Now he was wondering if he should go back to her. Patty was blown away. She told the man that (get this!) the exact same thing had happened to Patty herself earlier in the week. Patty had left her husband some time ago for the same reason—he wouldn’t quit smoking pot. But she had run into him earlier this week. When they embraced, all her old feelings had come back too. And the Holy Spirit had spoken to Patty and said, “Don’t give up on your dream for this man; it’s not dead! The exact same thing this man was now going through! (Isn’t that absolutely incredible!?) So she shared her story with him and prayed for him that God would help him know what was right. You see what can happen when God sets up divine appointments (and we let Him be God)?
The young fellow I was paired with was absolutely fearless about approaching people. I didn’t get anything in prayer about who to look for, and all he got was the color "black." He accosted a woman walking alone to her car in a dark place in the parking lot before we even got in the mall. I thought she’d be freaked out, but she stopped and talked with us and we all prayed together, holding hands in a circle. After prayer, she hugged me, as did the next 2 ladies we prayed for. We prayed with a Christian lady in Sears whose sister was about to give birth and was nervous about the labor. We ran into an unsaved acquaintance of mine whose wife was also about to give birth and prayed for them. We prayed for a teenager with an arm in a sling and I felt the Spirit of God all over us. He said he felt it too. We ran into a guy who was trying to break substance abuse and prayed for him and told him about our men’s recovery center. In all I figure we prayed for about 15 people in a little over an hour.

But the clincher happened after we reconfigured the teams and I was teamed up with Cheryl (our pastor’s firebrand wife, whose prayer meeting I attend 3 mornings/week). She likes to go in the darkest places so we went into a demonic looking rock music store and prayed with the young woman clerk, who was very nice. After praying for a few more people we ran into 3 people walking down the hall with an obviously “special needs” woman. Cheryl called her back and asked if we could pray for her. She began to pray over this lady, breaking the lies of the devil spoken over her, breaking all kinds of things. The woman, who at the beginning was catatonic, gradually came alive and started sobbing, silently but expressively. Cheryl waxed even bolder, put her hands on both sides of her head, speaking in tongues and praying deliverance and healing over her. The woman began to be overcome by the power of God and lurched forward. With Cheryl still praying for her, one of her companions and I eased her to the floor. She was completely out by this time, lying on the mall’s tile floor. I continued praying healing and peace quietly over her while Cheryl spoke with her companions, who, it turned out, were Christians. “Yeah,” Cheryl was saying, “when this happens I’ve seen them out for 4-5 hours.” (The mall was closing in about 20 minutes!) The other team came up, and after sharing some more and praying with the others, we left, with the lady still on the ground, out like a light. (But she had a very peaceful look on her face!) “Cheryl,” I said later, “if those weren’t Christians they might have had you arrested.”
“Absolutely!” She said. “That’s already been prophesied over me.”

So there you have it. My first excursion into Christian Treasure Hunts!

Everything's All Right As Long As I'm in Control

by David Hobbs

For years I’ve had this joke with my wife when I’ve returned home after being out. As I come through the door I announce, “I’m here now, everything’s going to be all right.”

It's such a common perception to see life as being a bunch of out-of-control events that we are always seeking to bring under our control. Things “under control” are good, while things “out of control” are… well, bad. As a painter working off a ladder, as long as everything is under my control, it’s good. But if I lose my balance, or the ladder collapses out from under me (as happened earlier this year), things progress “out of my control,” which always ends in disaster. What happens when a helicopter gets out of the control of the pilot? Safe landing or crash? What happens when an epidemic gets out of control in a population? A great chorus gets out of the control of the conductor? A locomotive gets out of the control imposed by the 2 tracks it rides on? Example after example could be made showing the essential ingredient of being under control and the disaster that comes when that control is lost; so much so that it's bred into our very system and affects everything we do. All our lives are spent trying to assert control over as many factors as possible to make our lives smooth and successful.
The result is that we are constantly at work trying to establish our kingdom on earth, with the explicit assumption that that will make for the best possible good. And yet that flies in the face of the fact that we and everyone else on earth are known sinners, and that all of our motives and desires are tainted with selfishness and sin. How could it be that bringing everything under our control would be a good thing for anyone but us?
The Bible specifically says (in the Lord’s Prayer), “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” So we are to work for God’s will to be established on earth, not our own. This means bringing things under His control. There are things then we have to relinquish control over so He can control them according to His will.
This may sound easy, but it’s not. Many people, myself included, can remember being greatly hurt and taken advantage of at times growing up when things were out of our control. Many people have responded by going into protective mode and vowing never to let things get out of their control again, in order to protect themselves from future pain. You know them, people who seem to have an excessive need to be in control, a need based on fear and insecurity.
But what happens when that mindset is taken into spiritual ministry? I’ve been in services where the minister invokes the presence of the Lord, asking Him to come in and take control, saying that whatever He wants to do, we will yield to His direction. In some cases I know it’s false—the minister is too insecure to ever let the service get out of his control. If the Holy Spirit ever took him up on it and came in power, the minister would be the first to freak out and shut the whole thing down. “That’s not the Holy Spirit!”

While not everything is the Holy Spirit, one thing is sure: the Holy Spirit will never come and take over while man is still holding onto control—the Holy Spirit will not operate under the direction of man. So until we’ve dealt with our insecurities and obsessive desire to maintain control, the Holy Spirit will never come in the way He wants to.

Whatever Happened to Old Hadley?

By David Hobbs

I used to go to a weekly breakfast with a full gospel businessmen’s group. Someone usually read a passage from the Bible and led discussions on it. In addition, we talked of many things. One morning the discussion got around to personal prophecies that members had received. One of the older members there was a fellow I called "Old Hadley." He didn’t really look that old. There was still the trace of the boyish about him, with his smooth skin and ready smile, but the maladies he was struggling with, like high blood pressure and a heart condition, belied his 70 or so years of age.
When it came his turn, I was amazed as he trotted out a whole ream of fantastic prophecies of what God was going to do through his life: he would write books that would be sent around the world, people would be saved on every continent because of him, great wealth would flow his way which he would use to build the Kingdom . . . . I can’t remember all the details, but I remember being surprised at two things: the first was the amazing promises over his life, and the second was the matter-of-fact way in which he was recounting the information to us. I was thinking, “Could it really be this easy? All this is just going to happen to him some day?” It didn’t look like he was doing anything in particular to bring these prophesies to pass. His strategy seemed to be to wait in total assurance of faith, like the young heir waiting for gramps to die so he could inherit $20 billion.
During my months in the group I used to consider this from time to time. Old Hadley seemed to be perfectly at peace, no striving here. I didn’t notice anything changing as far as his outward circumstances that would indicate any of his prophecies were about to be fulfilled, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Then an unfortunate thing happened. I missed a meeting, during which they changed the meeting day from Wednesday to Thursday. Nobody told me about it, so when I showed up the next Wednesday, nobody was there. When a waitress told me the meeting was now on Thursday, I had problems: partly because Thursday was my fasting day; but worse than that, I thought I had become an accepted member of the group, yet nobody had asked my opinion on the change nor had anyone informed me. Maybe I wasn’t so accepted after all!
I quit going; nobody called; nobody seemed to care. “I guess I didn’t matter!” I bought into the lie of the devil.
Over the years I forgot about it. Then one day I saw Hadley’s name in the obituary column of the newspaper. “Wait a minute, he can’t die; he’s got to have that breakthrough first where all those prophecies come to pass!” But there it was in cold newsprint. "Old Hadley, R.I.P." “But Lord, He believed! He believed your promises!”
Did he?
Since then I have learned that prophecies are not predictions. Personal prophecies are faith visions, potentials of what can be accomplished in the will of God for our lives. They are what God wants us to have, destinations we will reach if we reach our potential in Him. As such they must be prayed into and followed after. They are by no means automatic or unilateral guarantees. Just remember Old Hadley.

... faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. James 2:17 (NIV)

Prayer--Petitioning and Receiving

by David Hobbs

I have the privilege of praying with different groups of people. Even though all are anointed, there is a big difference in styles and giftings. One group in particular is very anointed, very zealous. Nobody waits on anything. As soon as one person stops praying, another jumps in. Since I’m more of the “quick to hear and slow to speak” school, I generally listen to the other people pray without being able to get a word in edgewise, unless I feel an incredible unction; then I just jump in with both feet and battle it out with the rest!
I can’t fault people who pray like this. They're zealous, they're hearing from God; they’re more anointed than most people; God loves to hear their prayers. Just because it’s not my style, doesn’t make it wrong. God is ver-r-r-r-y big and has room for all kinds of expressions. He might even get bored if everyone prayed the same. (Can God get bored? I’m sure the answer is “yes.” I imagine He gets bored almost to tears by many of our church meetings.)
When we come before God in an intercessory mode, we approach Him as petitioners before the bench (legal term). We bring our petitions before the “Judge of all the Earth” (Gen. 18:25), and ask Him to do whatever it is we’re asking for. This is a great honor--to be able to come before the throne of God through the blood of Christ--and a great responsibility! But it’s not the only relationship we’re privileged to have with God. He also calls us “friends” and Himself our Father, and we His children—far more intimate relationships than as plantiffs in a courtroom pleading before the Judge.
On numerous occasions we have been in this non-stop petitioning mode for an extended period when there will be a pause. I sense God wanting a change in the agenda. He wants to take off His robes, step down from the bench and welcome us with open arms and love all over us. I stretch out my arms to receive Him as His child, and feel the Holy Spirit’s presence rise dramatically… when all of a sudden someone leads out in petitioning prayer again. Instantly God is back on His throne in His judicial robes to receive this next petition. And we won’t let Him off His throne! We keep demanding it of Him by lifting up our non-stop petitions. Though His heart is to come down and love us, we’re having none of it—more prayers, more prayers, more prayers! (Even though there is probably not one He hasn’t heard before, and the Bible says He knows what we need before we even ask Him.) When the time is finally up, we break up the prayer meeting and disperse, never giving the Father the time He craves with His children.

Partnering With the Anointing, Part 2

by David Hobbs

[Please read the previous blog (Part 1) first]

There are three ways to know the mind of the Holy Spirit so we can pray His will and not our own. The first is to come to the prayer meeting with something He has already put on our heart. And I don’t mean something we need. We are self-centered. We have needs all the time. We have to separate our needs and wants from the Lord’s. What’s on His heart? (It’s not wrong to pray for our needs at times. God wants that. But we have to move beyond that. That’s baby Christianity.) God promises to meet our needs, even to go beyond what we can ask or think, so we shouldn’t have to spend a lot of time praying over them.
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My business was going belly-up earlier this year—no work coming in and expenses were eating up the cash on hand. I watched the bank account dwindle every week. In a few more weeks we would be broke. But I knew that God was faithful and that I was in the center of His will, so I didn’t spend a lot of time praying for the business. I trusted Him and waited, meantime doing what I always do: praying for whatever He put on my heart, seeking just to spend time with Him not for what I could get out of Him, and working on my writing. Sure enough, a week or two before going broke, business started coming in until we had a comfortable cushion again. Praise to His name!
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He doesn’t want us to be consumed with seeking things the world runs after—food, clothes, cars, houses, bills…. There are higher things to be energized for—the moral state of the church/state/nation/world, oppression of the weak and helpless, marriages and other relationships…. But even here, though it's good we've broken free of self-interest and are praying for others, there is still a higher realm.
When Jesus commended Mary for having chosen the “better part” in Luke 10, what was He referring to? Well, she had chosen to sit at His feet and listen to Him, while Martha was busy with the serving. So Mary was commended for sitting at Jesus’ feet instead of running around even in a good cause, but what was Mary doing while she was sitting there?—was she praying? Was she asking for things? Was she asking Jesus to save the world, or deal with sin, or even make her a better person? No! She was listening to Him. She was allowing Jesus to set the agenda, to talk about whatever was on His heart; and she was taking it all in like a sponge—that was the better part!
So if we, like Mary, are tuned in on a regular basis—listening to Him—sometimes He will give us something to pray for when we all come together.
But what if we come with nothing? What then? The second way to know and pray the mind of the Spirit is to begin the prayer meeting by waiting on the Holy Spirit instead of just praying our own best ideas. Start with worship and praise, giving God glory and honor, and then invite the Holy Spirit to come and quicken anyone He chooses to pray what’s on His heart. Then continue worshipping and wait for Him. Now each person is waiting for a quickening in their spirit rather than a thought in their mind. But it’s not going to work unless the members of the group know how to wait on God and hear His voice for themselves.
You say, “Well how do I do that?” Beloved, that is your life’s calling as a Christian—learning to hear God’s voice. If you can’t do that, you will never fulfill your calling in the Kingdom. Drop everything else, take your Bible to your prayer closet and don’t come out until you know God’s voice. But if you’re saved, you’ve already heard His voice calling you to salvation. You’ve probably heard His voice many other times too, so don’t sell yourself short. But it’s like learning a foreign language—it’s an ongoing process that never ends. You have to keep applying yourself, getting better and better at it.
So as the group waits on the Holy Spirit, people will feel quickened to lead out in prayer. This brings us to the third way. Listen and agree as people pray. As your spirit is tuned into their requests, it will leap up at certain times in their prayer. This is the Holy Spirit confirming that prayer is from Him and you’ve just hit an area that He cares a lot about. Others might sense the same thing and all of a sudden the whole group will come alive in loud agreement. This is when prayer gets exciting. You will sense the whole atmosphere of the prayer meeting changing—the energy level increasing. If you’re sitting, you may feel an urge to stand. You know you’ve hit one of God’s “hot buttons.” Beloved, that’s what it’s all about! Now you’re moving with God. You may want to pray along the same lines, coming at it from a different angle, or adding some detail. Or you may be quickened to a scripture verse and want to read it out loud and claim it for the situation. All kinds of things can happen, until the issue has been covered and the level dies down again and you’re waiting for the next quickening.
You will notice that some people seem to carry more of an anointing than others, or perhaps be better in tune with the Spirit, as almost every time they pray they will draw the group into their prayer and the anointing level will rise. Now is the time for self-examination. What happens when you pray? Are people stirred and quickened? Does the anointing level rise? Or is everyone silent?
I know people who when they pray actually kill the anointing. It’s usually people who like to pray, and like to hear themselves pray. They tend to go on and on. But it’s the opposite of the ones mentioned above who increase the anointing as they pray. The longer these people pray, the deader the meeting gets. I feel my energy draining away. If I’m standing, I start looking for a place to sit. It’s hard to keep tracking with them and my mind starts to wander. When they’re finally finished the anointing’s gone like water out of the bottom of the bathtub.
I’m sure these people will be looking for a great reward in heaven based on the number of prayer meetings they’ve attended, the hours they’ve spent in prayer, and how much they “loved to pray.” They are going to be shocked when the Lord plays back the tapes and they see themselves killing off the anointing time after time without even being aware of it. They spend their whole lives serving God out of their minds instead of their spirits! Rather than furthering the Kingdom of God, they are constant stumbling blocks: discouraging others from prayer meetings because they make them so boring, killing off the anointing that others have to pray back in, all the time blithely unaware, even proud of themselves because of their high level of involvement. They explain away the lack of response to their prayers compared to other’s as being a difference in personalities—“I’m just a quiet person, not loud and emotional like brother Bob.”
WE NEED THE HOLY SPIRIT when we pray!

Partnering With the Anointing

by David Hobbs

If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. (1 Peter 4:11--NIV)

After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly. (Acts 5:31--NIV)

For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. (2 Peter 1:21—KJV)

If you study the Scriptures, you will find a constant working together of the Holy Spirit and the word of God. This was true from the very beginning, where the Spirit of God brooded over the waters, and then the word of God came forth: “Let there be light!” The word by itself brings death, but when it’s partnered with the Spirit it brings life (“...for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” [2 Cor. 3:6--NIV])
In the Church, we’ve been slow to pick up on this instruction. Many preachers at least realize that they need the anointing to preach the word of God from the pulpit. But when it comes to prayer, the rule of thumb seems to be “any prayer will do.” Whole prayer meetings come and go without once being visited by the anointing of the Holy Spirit. Instead of “holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost,” we have “modern men of the world spake as they were moved by their own reasonings.”
When we pray out of our own thoughts and “good ideas,” we end up working against the purposes of God, which the Bible tells us are higher than our own. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord (Isaiah 55:8). If our thoughts are not His, then why do we insist on praying them as though they were? Why are we sending up prayers that God has to consciously block from His ears because to do what we’re asking would be at cross purposes to His will? The letter kills, only the Spirit brings life.
Want an example of how this works? Let’s say a believer stands up in the church prayer meeting and says, “I want us to pray for Aunt Alma—she’s sick.”
“OK sister Bea, lead out and we’ll agree with you.”
“Dear Lord I want to lift up my Aunt Alma to you. Lord I just pray that you would heal her of this (fill in the blank).”
“Amen. We agree Lord.”
This scenario is repeated over and over in prayer meetings every week. But what if the truth of the matter is that Aunt Alma’s allotted days on earth are almost over and God sent the sickness to do a work in her to prepare her for eternity? God’s eyes are on healing her soul of some things (pride, self-sufficient spirit) for eternity, while our eyes are on healing her body for the short time she has left on earth. That’s why the scripture says that His ways are higher than our ways. So what is God supposed to do when we pray these prayers—do what we ask of Him even though Aunt Alma will suffer the consequences for all eternity? Or block out our prayers and do what He knows is best?
“Oh but I meant well,” we say self-righteously, “how was I to know…? Exactly the point! There is no way we could know. Only the Holy Spirit knows. Hence we desperately need the Holy Spirit in our prayer meetings.
Some hope the Spirit shows up to anoint their prayers. But the Bible is clear, the anointing oil (representing the Holy Spirit) is never to be poured out on the flesh of man (Ex. 30:32—KJV). Beloved, we need to get out of the way and let the Holy Spirit have the floor, let Him do what He wants to do.
“But He has to work through us.”
Again exactly the point. We have to learn what it is to tap into His anointing and get it flowing through us. “Christ in you, the hope of glory (Col. 1:27).” “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I but Christ liveth in me (Gal.2:20—KJV)”
“Lord, what is your agenda? What do you want to pray? I open myself up for you to use! Not my will but yours be done!”
Then how can we learn the difference between us praying our own thoughts, and Him praying through us His thoughts???
Now that is a good question! More next time.

The Book Dropoff That Almost Didn't Happen

Note: For the last 2 months I have been touring Northern and Central Calif., visiting fire stations, dropping off copies of Out of the Fire and talking with the fire fighters. These blogs posts are in their honor and will deal with some fire fighting issues.
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Brian Morrision, Captain at the Bridgeville CDF station (Humboldt Co.) emailed me this message:
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David Hobbs,
Thanks for dropping off the book here at the Bridgeville CDF station. I was a bit surprised to find it on my desk in my office, but I did leave the door unlocked…. and most folks are honest.
I attended Humboldt State from 1975 to 1980. I knew Fred Cranston and I too sang in the Humboldt chorale with Lee Barlow directing. Again and again I read your description of events that also occurred in my life. Fire, college and life hasn’t changed all that much. It seems we all face similar challenges, I’m glad you found such a successful path.
Other firefighters are waiting to read your book. It will go in the library with the other “fire” books when they are finished.
Thank you,
Brian Morrison
Captain, Bridgeville CDF
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I responded back to Brian:
Hey Brian,
Thanks for the email. Sorry about intruding into your office, but I wanted to be sure it would get to you.
Amazing that we have had so many similar experiences! Fred Cranston just passed away two years ago. He went suddenly. I had been in touch with him and sent him a copy of the book which he read. He put it in the mail to send to his daughter Carol but before she received it, he died.
I went on to say:
I’ve been sitting here wracking my brains trying to remember where your Bridgeville Station is (I’ve hit about 170 stations in 2 months). Suddenly it dawned on me—Eureka! There is more to the story!
Here was the rest of the story, how he almost didn’t get the book, but for a little divine intervention:
It was late in the afternoon on the day I was heading to my friend Ron’s house in Fortuna (the Ron in the book). I thought I had hit every fire station between Red Bluff and Fortuna, when I crossed a bridge over the Eel River with a little town off to the side. The highway went on, but suddenly there was this fire station sign. I didn’t really want to detour, but “might as well.” However, I couldn’t find the fire station. I quickly drove through the little town. On the other side was a picture sign of a fire truck—that means the station is within 100 yards. However, still no station. I was praying of course, asking God to help me find it. The road narrowed and started winding up a hill—no room for a fire station up here or even a house. I turned around and came back down. There was the fire station sign from the other direction. The only thing in between the signs was a driveway into a parking lot with some big buildings in the back. I turned in and checked it out but it turned out to be a school. Everything was deserted. As I was turning around in the parking lot, about to give up and go on, a woman came out of the only house on the other side of the parking lot and sat down on the porch stairs to read a book. What the heck? I rolled down the passenger window as I was cruising past and shouted out, “Is there a fire station around here?” To my surprise she responded immediately that there was, that I needed to turn around again and take an unmarked gravel driveway at the far end of the parking lot. This driveway led over a little bridge, through some trees, up a rise and suddenly, there was the station and its compound, tucked in the woods above the river, out of sight from the road and the parking lot. Voila! After I had dropped off a copy of the book and was on my way out, the woman was nowhere to be seen. “Wow. God must have sent her out just at the right time in response to my prayers!” I thought.
So there you have the rest of the story. If it wasn’t for my prayers and that woman, you wouldn’t have the book to read today. Amazing huh?
Some people don’t believe in a God who answers prayer and would say about this story, “What a coincidence!” But I’ve noticed the more I pray, the more “coincidences” I have.
-David Hobbs-

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Fear

By David Hobbs

Note: For the last 2 months I have been touring Northern and Central Calif., visiting fire stations, dropping off copies of Out of the Fire and talking with fire fighters. These next few blog posts are in their honor and will deal with some fire fighting issues.

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Every fire fighter at some point comes face to face with the fear of fire. Fire is a powerful force, much stronger than anything we have to counter it. For a big fire, the best we can hope for is to contain it--stopping its spread--and let it burn itself out. When fire is on the move, our best efforts are worthless. It does what it wants to do and goes where it wants to go and woe to the man who gets in its way! Anything in its path is consumed.
During the Indian Ridge Fire in my first year (“The Big One” p. 42), I had seen the awesome power of fire firsthand, but from a distance. It wasn’t until Year 4 (“Blowup!” p. 153) that I met that power up close and personal and was forced to flee for my life, escaping death by seconds, not minutes. As I recalled at the end of that chapter, that encounter left an imprint of horror on my soul. From then on I was forced to deal with that fear in any big fire situation. And fear has a way of paralyzing you--your mind especially--so you can’t make sound decisions.
It’s funny to be around small children and see them react with unreasoning fear over very minor events, like a spider or a bug. My oldest son Joe, when he was little, had this extreme fear of touching the sand when we went to the beach. We had to carry him out and set him on a blanket. If his feet touched the sand he would scream and writhe like he was immersed in acid!
But it’s not so funny when it happens to us as adults. There were several times in Out of the Fire where the fear caused me to do funny things. On a fire on the Goosenest District in year 4 (“Goosenest Inferno” p. 170), the fire was crowning through a thicket of young pines on fairly level ground in open country with a mix of grassland, brush, and young trees. Even after an air tanker had drenched the thicket with a direct hit, I was still afraid to go in there, so we started busting up sod out in the grassland trying to construct a line tied in with the dirt road. (For another instance, see “Lack of Ability or Lack of Guts?” p.197.)
Making the problem worse is that for the most part we are afraid to talk about it or admit to it. We have to maintain this macho image like nothing ever moves us.
But there were other times in life I was also afflicted by fears: like times alone in my house out in the country (p. 251) when I wondered what would happen if my heart just stopped beating. It was beyond my control. I wasn’t making it beat. So what if it just stopped, then what? Or the time out on the highway bridge over the raging Klamath River at night when people were joking about pushing each other off the bridge into the flood (pp.313-314) and I realized with horror that that would bring about not only my physical death but eternal death beyond anything I could imagine.
I did have some small success dealing with my fear of fire (see “Over the River and Through the Woods” [p.264+]) but later discovered it was still there lurking in the background (“Hell’s Canyon” [p. 299]). It was a partial fix, like when I quit smoking: I quit smoking cigarettes, but several years later took up the pipe.
It wasn’t until meeting Jesus that I got some real help dealing with fear. First, because He died for me, I didn’t have the fear of death and its eternal consequences. Now even if my body died, my spirit would go right to be with Him. Death lost its terrors. The Psalm writer in Psalm 22 refers to walking “through the valley of the shadow of death.” Death for the Christian is merely a dark shadow that he passes quickly through from this life to the glory on the other side.
But there is also an antidote to fear in this life. The Bible says that perfect love drives out fear (1 John 4:18). When God’s love for us is poured out in our hearts, it sends fear packing. If God is for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31). For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). I found that through Jesus I could face my fears. And facing them is usually the greatest step towards overcoming them.
And the third thing is that in Jesus the code of silence is broken. We no longer have to labor to maintain that image of invincibility. As Christians we are surrounded by brothers and sisters just as broken as we are, who love us unconditionally and make it safe to talk about our deepest fears and insecurities without fear of rejection, exposure, mocking or scorn. Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed (James 5:16).

The Miracle That Changed My Life

An excerpt from Out of the Fire, Year 9, by David Hobbs

[This happened on a fire up in Idaho in Aug. 1974, and more than any other single thing convinced me that God was real, that He was involved in this world’s affairs, and that He had enough power to respond to any situation.

It was the 2nd day of the fire, after we were exhausted from digging the longest underslung line we had ever dug. . . .]

. . . That evening, after eating supper, we went back to our camping area and were lounging on our sleeping bags, savoring a few moments of rest before night fell.
Then one of the fire overhead personnel came into our camp and started talking to Dale (our foreman). He said the wind had come up at the higher elevations and was fanning the fire, especially on top of the mountain. The fire had jumped the line one place in particular and was heading into new ground. They were asking us to pull a double shift and go up there and stop it.
I suppose we should have felt flattered that they called on us when they really needed help, but to tell the truth, we were all tired and really looking forward to crawling into our sleeping bags. But this was our job. So there we were, some grumbling, some pumped up for glory, and some just resigned: but all heading up the hill again in the fading daylight in the back of a National Guard troop truck, feeling the chill in the air now that the sun was down.
The scene that greeted us at the top of the mountain was wild pandemonium. The wind was howling over the ridge and the fire was being fanned as if by a giant bellows. Every bit of fire was burning with incredible intensity. The noise level from the wind and fire and chain saws and people shouting was deafening. The only way you could communicate was by screaming at the top of your voice. There was a handful of Forest Service people already there with pickups and chain saws, but though they were running around in a frenzy, they seemed to be accomplishing nothing. They were trying to build a new line through a brush patch, but that looked hopeless: the line was only half built and the wind-whipped flames were already upon them.
After quickly scouting the situation, Dale had most of us drop back and start building a line through a stand of young fir trees beyond the brush patch. There was not much undergrowth or duff there, just a light carpet of pine needles, so building the line would be easy. Yes, building it would be easy, but holding it...? The sawyers he sent on ahead to where the forest began, to start cutting the trees and undergrowth for our line when we got there. Others he sent deeper into the thicket beyond our fire line to scout for spot fires from the sparks that were continually blowing over our heads from the fire.
From the very start, it was a valiant but losing effort. Even as we were getting our line built through the young fir trees, spot fires were springing up around us. Each spot fire, when it flared up, had the same wind-fanned intensity of the main fire. We didn't have the manpower to stop building line and fight these spot fires which were constantly springing up. Instead we tried to relocate the fire line out around them, to get them back within the line. Thus we were continually being driven back.
Then a hair-raising thing happened--a spot fire started up in one of the fir trees, about 20 feet off the ground! I had never seen this happen before--a green tree, with no fire under it to dry the branches, starting to burn from one spark and continuing to burn with no help from any other source. Green trees aren't supposed to burn that well! But this one sure was burning, and high enough that we couldn't reach it with anything to put it out.
We had to call a sawyer back to cut the whole tree down. But as the tree was falling through the canopy to earth, the wind from its fall fanned the fire into a roaring conflagration. By the time it hit the ground there was no question of putting it out—half the tree was going up in flames! So again we had to fall back and rebuild the line beyond the tree.
"This is not working," I thought. "The fire is going to keep pushing us back. There's no way we can stop it." Still, gamely, we pressed on.
Things were getting strung out now. People were spread thin all up and down the line. Each one had some crisis to deal with. Some were shouting one thing; others were shouting another. All order and cohesiveness was breaking down under the noise, the confusion, and the rapidity of the unfolding events.
Again the fire spotted in the top of a tree. Again we had to call a sawyer back. Again the tree he cut, as it fell, exploded in flames. Again we had to relocate the line around it.
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, the whole situation changed. The fire stopped threatening the line. It stopped spotting over the line. We tied in our newest line to the old line, burned it out, and it was over—"The Battle of the Bulge" was won!
The crew started celebrating like crazy. "We did it! We did it!" they screamed. If we had had guns we would have been firing them into the air. People were shouting, laughing, and hugging each other. "We're the best in the west! We're the greatest! Etc. etc.”
But I wasn't joining in the celebration. I was puzzled. What had happened? We hadn't stopped the fire; we couldn't stop the fire. We'd been working up here like crazy for hours without making any progress at all toward stopping the fire; the fire was unstoppable.
Then what had stopped the fire?
As I was pondering this question, I heard how Mike Harris had almost been killed by a tree falling on him. In the noise and confusion, he had walked right under a tree being cut by the other saw team. The sapling had hit him on the head, on the back of his hard hat. Right on the saying, "I Belong to Jesus," the whole back of the hat was smashed in. Undoubtedly the hard hat had saved his life.
The next day, after the emotional frenzy had passed, I found Mike alone and went up to him and asked, "Mike, what happened up there last night to stop the fire?" I narrowed my eyes and looked at him suspiciously, "You didn't say a prayer up there or something did you?"
And Mike told me this story. "Dave, you know, last night... well for awhile I hadn't felt the presence of the Lord. It's like I've been walking afar off. Spiritually things have been hard and dry. When that tree hit me, it knocked me down to the ground and knocked me out for a moment or two. As I was lying there dazed on the ground, all of a sudden I felt the presence of Jesus very close again, just like before.
"Sensing His love and closeness I began to pray, 'Lord, we can't stop this fire; you know we can't. It's too much for us Lord. I pray you would stop the wind that's pushing this fire and keeps us from controlling it.' Within one minute, Dave, the howling wind died down completely. Then it started blowing gently back the other way."
"Wow, that's it!" I exclaimed. I hadn't noticed the wind dying down. That's why I couldn't figure out what made the fire stop. "Of course! That's it! You prayed and Jesus stopped the wind and the fire lay down."
I was utterly in awe. I had just seen a miracle with my own eyes. I had seen the Almighty Eternal God intervene in time and space in our own world in response to prayer.

Send the Fire

By David Hobbs

Telling the following story will undoubtedly open me up to much criticism such as “God doesn’t do that! What’s the point? How do you explain . . .?”
So let me start out by saying I am just relating what happened, not trying to explain it, justify it, make it fit into somebody’s theology, or in any other way try to tweak it to make it acceptable to the church or the world. This is just what happened, no more, no less!
One night at the end of a glorious three hours of prayer at the church, I was sitting on a chair in the lobby, waiting out the final minutes before calling Darlene, who was next on the prayer chain. Not wanting to call too soon (lest she still be in the process of getting up, dressed, and ready) was a good reason to sit for a few minutes basking in the afterglow of a great prayer time. I was sitting there totally relaxed and warmed by the glow of the Lord's presence, when, without thinking, I prayed in an idle fashion, “Lord, send your fire.”
I continued to sit there for another few minutes when in the distance I heard the far-off wail of a siren. Sunday morning at 5 a.m. is one of the deadest times of the week, so any sound was surprising. Still, emergency vehicles often go by the church on the freeway so I didn’t think much about it. However, it kept getting closer and closer, and didn’t sound like an ambulance or the Highway Patrol. I rallied myself, got up and went to the glass front doors to investigate. Sure enough, a fire truck pulled up to Eager Rd. from the freeway frontage road--lights flashing and siren blaring--turned in front of the church and went up over the freeway overpass on Eager Rd. “Huh!” I thought, “now that’s unusual for this time of the morning.” I sat back down, but within a few minutes I heard another siren off in the distance. “Another one coming here also?” Sure enough, the siren increased in intensity until another fire truck arrived along the same route, turned and went past the church and up over the freeway. By this time I figured I better see what was going on. I walked around the church to the freeway side. There was a huge fire burning! It was just across the freeway in an orchard with a fruit-packing plant. The fire was so close I could feel the radiant heat from the flames on my face.
I watched for awhile, then called Darlene and told her excitedly how I’d called down fire from heaven! Finally I returned home to sleep. Later Sunday afternoon I returned to the scene to see if I could find out what had really happened. There were still wet spots on the ground where the hoses had leaked water, and tracks in the sand where the fire trucks had parked. But I couldn’t find anything that had burned. The buildings of the plant were still there. I figured maybe it was a stack of wooden fruit bins, which can be piled over ten feet tall.
“God obviously has a sense of humor,” I thought. “He certainly answered that prayer, and quickly!”
I believe He did it as a sign: “I’m listening; I hear you; keep praying.” Other interpretations may vary.

Saturday Night Prayer Unusual Experiences

By David Hobbs

Once I found my groove praying alone at the church from 2-5 a.m. Sunday morning, it opened up a whole new vista of prayer. The time was long enough that I could go through different seasons of prayer in one session: for instance, a time of singing and worship, a time of basking in His presence, a time of petitions, and a time of declaration and warfare could all flow together in one 3 hour session.
With no one listening in, I practiced being uninhibited in prayer—yelling declarations, shouting praises, reading the Word as loud as I could—and discovered the power of the voice; it truly is the “Sword of the Spirit.”
Other times the Spirit would fall on me as I was singing a song of worship and I would break down with weeping, unable to continue, overcome with the mercy of God to my undeserving soul. There were times I was so overcome by His presence that I would fall on my knees before Him for what seemed like hours, unable to speak. It quickly became my richest time in His presence of the whole week, greater even than the church worship service Sat. night. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still a challenge getting out of bed at 1:30 Sunday morning, getting dressed and driving the 15 minutes to the church. But once there and launched into praise or singing, inviting the Holy Spirit to come, and once His presence filled the sanctuary—it was all worth it and then some!
But like anything else in the realm of the Spirit, it was not always easy. There were times of spiritual opposition and oppression, sometimes intense. I remember one time in particular . . . .
It was one morning about 3 a.m. I had prayed for an hour without getting anywhere. There was no life to my prayers, no response of the Spirit. It was one of those times that makes you question what you’re doing and why you’re doing it! “Why am I even here? Why aren’t I at home sleeping?”
I had been walking round and around the sanctuary in my usual circuit. But this time, as I came past the wall by the old nursery, suddenly I heard a knock from the opposite side of the room. It was up high, near the ledge where the indirect lighting sits. It was a single click, or rap, and sounded like wood striking wood. Immediately my mind was filled with a flood of negative thoughts bringing fear, trouble, and panic…. “You shouldn’t be here all alone! Look out! You’re going to be attacked! Danger! There’s someone in the building! He’s got a gun! Run before it’s too late! You can’t escape!” It was as if the floodgates of hell had been opened up and dumped into me, with the residue swirling around me.
In an instant my mind was spinning “What’s going on? Where did all this come from?” I was struggling to come to grips with what was happening to me when all of a sudden, unbidden, the Holy Spirit rose up in me in power and I started praising the Lord as loud as I could shout! My pace quickened around the sanctuary and I began attacking the devil and every work of hell I could think of, binding principalities and powers, clapping my hands, casting down the forces of evil, shouting out in tongues: all at the top of my voice with the anointing of the Holy Spirit upon me.
I had no more trouble from hell after that! The victory ushered me into a wonderful time of prayer and sweet communion with the Lord for the rest of the night.

Rejuvenation

By David Hobbs

One night I arrived at the church for my 2-5 a.m. Sunday morn. prayer time exhausted. I had been beaten down by the enemy working in my mind so that my whole body was physically and spiritually drained of strength: my energy level was at zero.
After turning on the lights in the sanctuary I made my usual circuit around the rest of the building, making sure things were in order. I was voicing some tentative praises but could tell my heart wasn’t in it. There was a weight on me that sapped my strength and even my desire.
Listlessly I wandered through the fellowship hall in the dark. The two hallways that run into it were lit so there was enough light to avoid obstacles, but just barely. As I approached the old GT Café, a sectioned off area at the far end of the room, I was thinking, “Lord, I came here to minister to you but I need someone to minister to me.”
I stepped into the Café by one of the small metal tables. Suddenly, I felt like the Holy Spirit stretched out His arm and offered, “Here, take a seat.” Gratefully I collapsed in the hard metal chair and put my elbows on the table with my head in my hands.
Instead of yielding my spirit up to the oblivion of sleep (which I've done before), I felt the Holy Spirit's presence with me, which quickened me a little. For some reason I started thinking about the rest of the building. It was as if my spirit was traveling around inventorying it while I was sitting in the chair.
(The whole building is octagonal in shape with the sanctuary in the middle. Around the sanctuary are offices. Then there is a hallway that circles around the entire building, with more offices and classrooms on the outside of its circle. At the back of the building, accessed by the hallway at either end, is the fellowship hall, a 60X40 foot room with raised, cathedral ceiling.) Now as I was thinking about the rest of the building, it was as if my spirit was taking note of each place: the hallways, the drinking fountains, the darkened lobby, the fellowship hall with the kitchen to one side…. It was all empty, mostly dark, all quiet.
My prayer to God on a regular basis (from the "Lord’s Prayer") is “Lord, have Your way here on earth as You do in heaven: Thy will be done!” Now as I was considering the empty building a thought occurred to me and I prayed, “Lord right now (at 2 o’clock in the morning) I am the lawful steward of this whole building. It has been given into my hands and as its steward I now give it into your hands to do with whatever you want; Thy will be done!”
After that I sat in silence, but I soon realized the Lord had accepted my offer and taken over the building. I couldn’t tell what He was doing but I sensed spiritual activity. My eyes were closed and my ears were open, but there was nothing to sense in the natural. The church was absolutely quiet. There were no sounds, no lights, no smells. I was not in control of anything that was happening and I had no idea what was happening. All I could sense was that things were happening in the spiritual realm as I sat in the darkness.
The minutes stretched on. I tried to remain totally focused on the Spirit because I knew that was an essential ingredient in God’s continued working. If I lost interest, zoned out, or dozed off, the work would stop. In the glorious plan and workings of God, He has made us—His people—partners with Him in the work He wants to do on earth. (We can talk about God’s sovereignty until we’re blue in the face, but that doesn’t change the fact that God has willed that much of His work on earth be partnered with His human creation. He didn’t have to do it that way, but He chose to. It’s not that He can’t do it without us, but that He won’t.)
Then a strange thing happened. As I focused on the Holy Spirit, I began traveling the halls in my spirit, sensing the spiritual activity while I fought off distraction and fatigue—all the while enjoying His sweet Presence.
I sat completely still for over an hour, physically frozen in place while my spirit traveled the halls with the unseen spiritual activity going on all around me. Then the spell was broken by the strong, sweet/rotten smell from the prune processing plant a mile away. If the wind was right, especially at night, sometimes its foul odors wafted all the way to our church. I got up and hurriedly closed the windows in the kitchen, the only open windows in the building.
I knew the special time was over and realized that I felt much better now—I had been rejuvenated by just sitting there in the presence of the Lord.
I went back into the sanctuary and began praising and worshipping the Lord. As I was walking around the room, the spirit of intercession and warfare fell on me in power and I started casting down principalities and powers at the top of my lungs. I’m sorry I don’t remember all the things I was rebuking the devil for, but I was stripping him of his power and authority, commanding him to give back all he had stolen from God’s people, and who knows what else! All the time there was no fear, no opposition, and no retaliation. It was like I had caught him flat-footed, snuck up on him and was pulverizing him. I realized later it was because the Lord had used the time and liberty I had given Him earlier to establish a spiritual perimeter in the hallway which completely encircled the sanctuary. Now inside the sanctuary I had total protection and complete freedom to tear down demonic strongholds and attack the enemy at will. It was a glorious and triumphant time and I left totally pumped, so different from the beaten down, exhausted man of 3 hours ago.

The Nourishing Sap of the Holy Spirit

By David Hobbs

17 . . . you, though a wild olive shoot, have been grafted in among the others and now share in the nourishing sap from the olive root . . . [Rom. 11, NIV]

I was on the road last week, promoting my book Out of the Fire. This consisted of dropping off copies at fire stations, praying over churches, and visiting bookstores and newspapers. Each morning I spent an hour in prayer seeking divine direction, but most of all seeking to spend some time in the Divine Presence. I had two different, wonderful experiences in the Lord that are typical of what can happen when we spend time seeking Him.
The first was at the only church I could find in Sierraville (Sierraville being the place I spent the night). The church was just outside of town on its own 1/3 acre plot carved out of pastureland. With no dwellings on either side, the area behind the church had perfect privacy. So for an hour I praised, worshipped, sang, and shouted declarations of God’s glory, as the sun rose over the mountains ringing this beautiful valley in the Sierras. I let it all out until the glory descended and I felt my face shining like Moses’ face in days of yore. I had opened up the floodgates of my spirit, the glory came down, and it was refreshing, invigorating, and very satisfying.
The following night I was in a motel cabin in Greenville. The only churches I had spotted were in town surrounded by houses. What was a Christian to do? After reveille I remained in the cabin and began walking back and forth from the front door through the bedroom into the little kitchen to the back door—the longest route I could pull off in the little cottage. Without being too loud, nevertheless I began singing in worship to the Lord, lifting up my hands and praising Him, calling on His Name and giving Him glory.
After about 20 minutes I realized that His Presence had come into the room. I couldn’t see or hear anything different (expect the lights seemed almost imperceptibly brighter and sharper in focus). But mostly I could sense His Presence with my Spirit. When that happens I stop what I’m doing, sit quietly and bask in His presence, even as Mary loved to sit at His feet. I listen for what He might want to say, which happens not with a voice, but by putting thoughts in my mind and seeing how I respond to them.
We had a very special time together: quiet and intimate; totally different from the day before. He was giving me things to think and write about and my mind gradually got more and more caught up with these thoughts and ideas until I became aware that His Presence had lifted and was fading. Then I kicked myself for not paying enough attention to Him and letting my thoughts draw me away. (In general though, I have found it difficult to stay for a long time in His Presence.) What would it be like to learn the secret of living one’s whole life in His Presence? Wonderful beyond imagination! Both experiences in prayer were marvelous, though completely different.
After I got home and was meditating on these delightful experiences, the Holy Spirit quickened to me the verse quoted above. Then it dawned on me that the nourishing sap comes from the Holy Spirit and it flows every time we are in God’s Presence. That’s why Jesus said in John 15:

5 If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire, and burned.

It’s the presence or absence of the nourishing sap that makes the difference whether we are alive and productive in the Kingdom, or withered and dead. And the sap flows when we are in His Presence (through prayer times such as I had, corporate worship times, or any time we come apart from the world and experience His Presence). The sap is always in Him, but only when we are plugged into Him does it flow into us.
Beloved, we need to learn the secrets and practice the art of being in His Presence!

The Macedonian Call

By David Hobbs

Acts 16:9—During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” 10 After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

I just returned from a road trip to some of the rural areas of Calif., handing out copies of my book Out of the Fire to fire stations, trying to get it placed in bookstores, and as is my custom, praying over churches in the towns I visit. There is usually nobody at the churches, but I pray and try to sense the leading of the Holy Spirit. At this one particular church, I really wanted to make contact with the pastor and I felt like tarrying on the premises until God sent someone.
After praying and singing in worship for about 45 min., sure enough a nice lady drove up--a member of the church. I told her about my book, why I was there, and my burden for the rural churches to experience revival and the moving of the Spirit like many churches in the cities were. She informed me that the pastor I was seeking was no longer there, and that the church had no pastor at present. She went on to tell me that many of the churches in town had no permanent pastor. (There was a denominational church where the denomination had decided not even to place a permanent pastor there anymore, but a pastor from a neighboring church would come and preach every week.) Furthermore, the attendance at all the churches (except the Catholic Church) was way down—her church had a weekly attendance of 35 average.
I felt such a burden for the dying churches in the town. I told her this was not God’s will; that He wanted to revive the churches and reach the lost through them. I felt like volunteering to take over a pastorless church and tell the people, “Come on, let’s pray-in revival!”
This morning I was back home pondering the situation and praying, “Lord how can I help these people?”
I felt the ever-gentle Holy Spirit remind me of the story from Acts that we refer to as the Macedonian Call. “You can’t do anything until there’s a Macedonian Call.”
I remembered a church in another rural town a year and a half ago. I had felt in my spirit like I needed to make a road trip to this town; I sensed there was someone praying, asking for help. When I got there with my son Daniel, the Lord led me right to a church where this pastor had just been praying to God, asking Him why he didn’t have anyone to help him in this difficult area, asking Him if anybody cared . . . basically throwing a spiritual pity party, but still crying out to God. That very morning we showed up saying we wanted to pray for him and his church. We spent a couple of hours in his office, praying for him and over him, prophesying over him (some of the same prophetic words he had gotten in seminary years ago) and encouraging him. At one point he was literally in tears because of the goodness and sovereignty of God sending us there in response to his cries.
But now the Holy Spirit was telling me, “Where’s the Macedonian call for help from this town? Yes the situation is critical, but who is burdened about it enough to cry out to Me for assistance? I can’t send you or anybody else until someone prays My burden back to Me for aid.”
I remembered the story of Moses being sent to deliver Egypt. It didn’t work until the people “groaned in their slavery and cried out.” Then “their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God.” After that, “God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham . . . . and was concerned about them.” [Exodus 2:23-24] The very next passage is God appearing to Moses in the burning bush and commissioning him to return to Egypt to deliver Israel.
God has all the resources we could possibly need. But in many cases He is waiting for us to partner with Him and pray them in.
Are we willing to humble ourselves and pray? Are we willing to seek God until the burden of the Holy Spirit falls on us and we can pray it back to God?

A Dream

By David Hobbs

Last Friday night I had a powerful dream, different from any I have had before. It came out of the blue. It’s been months, maybe years since I’ve had something I could even call a spiritual dream. It’s been so long I’d pretty much given up on God speaking to me that way. Like “falling down under the power,” it’s something that I expect to happen only to other people. So much for my expectations!
In the dream, the first thing I remember was that I was dead. My spirit had left my body, which was lying on the ground/floor with people clustered around it while my spirit hovered above. I don’t know how I died, or what led up to that moment, only that I was out of my dead body. After some time had passed, the next thing I remember was someone (an angel? the Holy Spirit?) telling me, “It’s time for you to go back into your body.”
I looked at my corpse and said, “How is that going to happen?”
“Just like this.”
He began spinning me like a top. All of a sudden, Zip! He spun me right back into my body.
Then I was in my bathroom looking at my face in the mirror. Though the eyes showed the face was alive, the rest of it still looked like death. It was all puffy and swollen and had purple splotches like how the blood coagulates in the skin of a dead person. I thought, “What are we going to do about this?” My wife happened to be in the bathroom with me getting ready to take a shower.
All of a sudden I was startled to see in the mirror behind me some young men standing, startled because young men shouldn’t be in the bathroom with my semi-clothed wife! I turned to look. There were five of them in all. They looked to be in their 20’s, big and strong like muscle builders. The most riveting thing about them was their smiles—they were grinning from ear to ear. They projected strength and confidence so much they practically glowed! I realized they were angels, though they didn’t have any wings.
Each one affixed a golden seal to the bathroom wall. I knew somehow that each seal contained the essence of the angel that affixed it; each one was leaving something of himself permanently attached to my wall. With that, I knew that my problem was taken care of (and who knows what else!). Then the dream was over.
I told the dream to one of the elders of my church who is gifted in dream interpretation. He gave the following interpretation:
"Five is the number of grace. The five angels affixing seals to the wall of your house means that you are about to receive a significant impartation of divine grace. It will be more than a gift you can use from time to time, rather it will be a permanent part of your life. Its power will be something you can use in the Kingdom to minister to others, and its effect will be as dramatic as life from the dead, as if you came back from death into life with new powers from beyond the grave!"

The Saturday Night Prayer Slot

By David Hobbs

In May of 2002 our church started a 24 hour prayer chain, of which I was asked to play a key role. We had done a similar prayer chain 8 years before, and I had prayed for an hour from 11-midnight on Thursdays for a year or so. But this time I wanted a longer block of time to get deeper into the Spirit and farther away from the world. The shallow, superficial, “go-to-meetings” brand of Christianity was leaving me unsatisfied. I decided 3 hours sounded long enough.
But where to find a three hour block of time? The nighttime seemed to be the only answer in our busy lifestyles. (Even my weekends were often busier than the weekdays). But which night? And how could I adjust to losing that much sleep in a night and still go on with life? The only practical answer was Saturday night. I could sleep in Sunday morning and recover from the sleep deficit. And Saturday night was in the middle of the weekend so my mind would not be consumed with business cares like it was going to church Wednesday night. And as an added bonus, it would come soon after Saturday night service, when I should still be infused with a measure of the Spirit. So I picked the Saurday night slot from 2-5 in the morning (technically Sunday morn.)
Now, where to pray? When it started out, it was still spring and cool at night, so I prayed at my house, lighting a bunch of candles for atmosphere. Fortunately, our house is arranged in such a way you can walk in a circle through the main rooms, important for staying awake at night.
I found that 3 hours was long enough to go through cycles in prayer: like there might be a time of repentance and sorrow for sin, a time of praise and singing, a time of deep worship, and then still time for some fervent intercession. You could cover a lot of ground in 3 hours!
But the house gradually became inadequate: it was too small and developed too much “sameness” about it. Also I had to be mindful of others sleeping, so I could only be so loud.
Next I moved to the railroad bridge outside of town, one of my favorite prayer spots for years. It was well away from humanity, there was plenty of room to walk, and the ever changing train schedule made each night different. I had some wonderful times of prayer in my 3 hour slots out there.
The main problem with the bridge was the intimidating power of the darkness. It just didn’t feel right to raise my voice. I could sing softly, worship and pray, but it was difficult to shout or declare or preach! And of course I couldn’t read the Bible either out loud or to myself. Also the weather was not always favorable. On the bridge I was exposed to the wind, which even on a summer’s night could be brisk. Some still summer evenings were perfect! But it was hard to be so at the mercy of the weather.
The final option was out at the church. Marcine had a key from her job as janitor there, and I made sure it was all right if I prayed out there. But I only wanted to be there at night if it was with someone else; being in the big church at night alone was too scary for me. The building was so big you couldn’t necessarily know, being in one part, what might be going on in another. (Hence a feeling of not being in control!)
At first I had no trouble getting people to pray out there with me, even in the middle of the night, getting up to seven people one night! But as time wore on it got harder and harder. For awhile, if I couldn’t get anyone to pray with me I would pray at the tracks or at home if the weather was bad. But then there would be times people would say they would come and not show up, or maybe only give a tentative commitment in the first place. I wouldn’t know when, or even if they would come. I had to face down my own fears of praying alone in the church.
Once I faced them squarely and overcame them, it ceased being a problem, and in fact became a delight. There were times I would have to confront fear, like when strange sounds were heard, or walking into a dark room. But I always locked the door after me so no one could wander in unannounced (Satan’s whole strategy is to make us afraid, to cause a fear reaction that he can take and plunge into our spirit like a spear and create an opening that he can continue to exploit every time we’re in fearful situations. I still have to be on guard when praying alone in the church at night, but not against what might happen, rather against fear itself. When I sense fear trying to rise up in me, I respond with a barrage of tongues and don’t give in to it.
The church really was the perfect place. I could be as loud as I wanted to be: read, pray, sing, walk, dance . . . . (And the prayer chain continued for about 4 years before it finally petered out.) Once I arrived at the point of being comfortable praying alone in the church at night, I had by far my greatest experiences in the Lord, some of which I will now relate.

We Fight, The Enemy Fights Back

By David Hobbs

8 Once more war broke out, and David went out and fought the Philistines. He struck them with such force that they fled before him.
9 But an evil spirit came upon Saul as he was sitting in his house with his spear in his hand. While David was playing the harp, 10 Saul tried to pin him to the wall with his spear, but David eluded him as Saul drove his spear into the wall. That night David made good his escape. (1 Sam. 19)

Early on in David’s relationship with King Saul, he found himself in a quandary. Every time he was successful in his ministry of battling the Philistines and delivering Israel from their domination, it only heightened Saul’s fear and jealousy of him. So David was tempted by mediocrity: be successful, but not too successful; kill the Philistines, but not too many. Lose a few more of your own men while you’re at it so you won’t look too good; maybe Saul won’t be stirred up against you.
David however, rose to the challenge, resisted the temptation, and “struck them with such force that they fled from him.” God was surely pleased with David’s integrity. But what was the immediate result for David? Once more Saul was back on the warpath against him and David had to flee for his life, never to return to Saul’s service, now to be a hunted fugitive for 13 long years until Saul’s death.
As the Bible so succintly puts it in Revelation 12:7—“And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back.” We fight and they fight back. And I don’t mean that David was ultimately fighting the Philistines. We know from the New Testament that our enemies are not human, but spiritual principalities and powers. David too was fighting the dragon by fighting the enemies of God’s people, as God’s proxy on earth. And David enjoyed great success. But then the dragon fought back through one of his proxies on earth, which in this case was not the Philistines, but the backslidden King Saul! David resisted his temptation to mediocrity, scored a great victory, and then was forced to flee by the enemy scared to death of his powerful anointing (1 Sam. 18:28).
I tell this story because I have found it to be true in my life. When the anointing of the Holy Spirit comes on me in power, it makes the devil furious! I’m talking about the anointing in such power that I am literally set free of everything that usually holds me back from complete abandonment to the service of God—like my mundane human personality.
For a long time I was going over to Cheryl’s every morning to pray for an hour. One morning the anointing came on me in power as I as driving through Marysville. I was set free, singing and worshipping . . . I know in the Spirit my countenance was shining as much as Moses’ countenance used to shine when he spent time with God. Brother, believe me, Satan is always on the lookout for such things, and can be counted on to respond immediately. And he is not called “the god of this world” for nothing!
In the place where 5th Street narrows down from 2 lanes to 1 as it starts to cross the 5th St. Bridge into Yuba City, I looked in my side mirror and saw a car coming up fast behind me. There was no way he could overtake and pass me because the road was already narrowing. But to my amazement he kept coming! He passed when it was only a lane and half wide. But there was traffic coming the other way. To avoid a head-on collision with oncoming traffic he cut right in front of me and would have hit me if I hadn’t slammed on my brakes to avoid the accident. Then he turned and shook his fist at me, his face snarled in a curse! Well, needless to say I lost it, blasting on my horn and yelling back at him in indignation. With the rush of adrenaline the anointing went right out the window and I arrived at Cheryl’s shaken and angry, but also amazed at how quickly Satan had sent someone to shut down the Holy Spirit’s anointing.
That was a year ago. But just 2 weeks ago I had a similar experience. I was driving to Sacramento early Thurs. morning for our weekly prayer time in the state capital. It’s often my best time in God for the whole week. Once again the anointing came upon me in power. Cruising along the freeway at 65 mph, I began declaring the victory of Jesus Christ: His power, His glory, the absolute surety of His promises . . . I was having a great time. Nothing could stand against me in the Spirit—I was walking in total victory!
Eighteen miles south of town is the little burg of East Nicolaus with a 4-way stop. As I pulled up to the stop light it sounded like I was sitting beside a diesel pickup; I could hear that loud engine noise diesels make. But as the traffic beside me pulled away, the sound continued just as loud, even when there was no other vehicle close by. “I’m making that noise!” I thought, suddenly alarmed. I looked down at the temperature gauge—it was pegged out! Immediately I pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the ignition. Steam was rising from the motor.
Fortunately I was only ¼ mile past Nicolaus. I walked back and was able to borrow a bucket from the guy who runs a little restaurant there. I filled it up with water, lugged it back to the car, filled up the radiator, and limped home.
The mechanic checked out the car: it had a hole in the radiator. With the new radiator and thermostat the bill came out to $650.00. Now here’s where it gets interesting. For those of you who still believe in “coincidences” rather than spiritual warfare: that night when my son Daniel (who works for me) came home from his job in the paint van, he came into my office and told me the radiator in his paint van had sprung a leak! When I took it to the mechanic it too needed a new radiator, another $400.00.
A week later, the next time the car was driven, it stalled suddenly going over the 10th St. Bridge and the police had to come and push it off the bridge. Some computer that controls the gas had gone out, another $400-500. We fight, the enemy fights back!
Do we give in to the temptation to mediocrity or do we continue to seek the anointing regardless of the cost?

Encountering God

by Carley Clark

My name is Carley and I've been a Christian for over 30 years. My personality was always pretty low key, nothing much ever excited me. I tried to be a good wife and mother but was going through life almost like on automatic pilot. Over the years I started to suffer from a number of maladies such as anxiety, high blood pressure, fibromyalgia type of body pain, and insomnia, just to name a few. I've been taking medication for all these illnesses. My favorite activities in the past were reading secular books, going to movies, shopping and lunch dates out with friends. Several years ago I began to get stirred to seek a deeper walk and relationship with Christ. I heard stories of others who were attending Christian conferences where very anointed and prophetic speakers were speaking, and they were being touched, healed, and moved into greater anointing themselves. I started going to conferences myself. I remember in particular attending a conference at Bethel Church in Redding, Ca. where Bob Jones was one of several speakers. At one session, as the worship band was rehearsing before the evening meeting, I felt drawn to the front of the room and was standing there worshipping when one of the Bethel intercessors walked up to me, put her prayer shawl over my shoulders and her flag in my hand, and prophesied that I would take a greater measure of worship back to my home church and lead in breaking open the dance and flag ministry. She said, “Now do it: run and dance across the front!” And I did.
The next day, while standing in line to go into another session, an intercessor from another church said, "May I speak something over you?" He said he saw me wearing a full suit of armor and that I was a “worship warrior.” He said the Lord had actually shown this to him the day before as he saw me worshipping. I got very excited and picked up my Bible and showed him the large label I had glued to the top of it saying "WORSHIP WARRIOR," which is something I had been declaring over my life ever since my husband, Charley, first gave me the label. After this I ordered a book by the same title written by Chuck Pierce, and my personal prayer time and hunger to know Jesus grew deeper.
During this time our pastors were being stirred to lead our whole church deeper and higher than we'd ever been before. Our ladies' Tuesday morning Bible study meeting’s name got changed to "Women Encountering God" because that’s what started happening. Our pastor Cheryl would come into the meeting and say "I don't have any agenda today; let’s just pray and ask Holy Spirit what He wants to do" (see "Ladies Intercessory Prayer Meeting" posted 3/23/08). Thus we positioned ourselves to be wide open to whatever God had for us each week and we began encountering Him regularly.
I kept going to conferences that hosted speakers who had come and ministered in my own church, and also other prophetic speakers that I know my pastors stand with. About 2 years ago I attended a meeting in San Diego with Pastor Cheryl and some of the other ladies from our church. The main speaker was Jill Austin. One afternoon between sessions I went back to my hotel room to rest, but while dozing in and out of sleep I received 4 very clear picture visions from the Lord. In the first one I saw myself on a stairway into Heaven with an open door at the top. In the second vision I saw myself with my head tilted way back and my mouth wide open and a big spoon coming toward my open mouth. This transitioned into vision #3 in which I saw myself bent over in labor pains and then giving birth to a baby. Lastly, in the 4th vision, I saw my head with a huge ladle spilling oil all over it. At that point I woke up and thought "Oh wow! You have just shown me some amazing things, Lord." (I am now seeing several of these visions come to pass. I am one of the ladies in our church who has been experiencing birthing something in the Spirit. This is a very intense experience of labor-like pains and crying out as if in childbirth.) Pastor Cheryl was also overcome by the presence of the Holy Spirit at this conference and went down under the Power as the glory of God was released over her. She could not walk or stand for some time during that meeting. We had to drag her back to her seat as she couldn’t walk under her own power.
Since then I have prayed continually to be filled and used by God and for His will to be accomplished in my life. My hunger keeps growing and the realm of His presence is opening up to me.
\Last month I attended another conference in San Jose, Ca. on "Empowering Supernatural Women." The theme of this gathering was joy and celebration. There was much "drunkenness in the Spirit" as well as much laughter and dancing. Each night we were invited to come up to worship and dance, and hundreds did. One night in particular I was up front dancing to a song about soaring on eagles’ wings. I literally felt like I was soaring; I had my arms extended and was lost in the moment when I heard a woman next to me say, "Oh wow! You really are flying with Him!" She could sense what I was feeling. Portals of God's glory began opening all over the meeting room. In some places people were weeping while at others they were laughing. As the night got late, some people got out of their seats to leave. But when they reached a portal of glory in the aisle they just fell down to the floor! They couldn’t get up in spite of trying to.
During a session where Patricia King was speaking, a misty rain began to fall and the smell of fresh rain filled the room. There were other manifestations such as feathers falling. I saw 2 of them myself. After we sang a song about the sweetness of God's wine, many could smell the fragrance of new wine.
While standing at my seat one afternoon worshipping, a woman in the seat ahead of me turned around, took my hands and started speaking prophetically to me. She spoke of a new level of intercession and said there was a roar of the Lion of Judah deep within me getting ready to sound. I opened my eyes and realized it was the same woman who had spoken that initial word to me up at Bethel Church in Redding. I reminded her of that incident and she thought it was pretty amazing. At that point she began praying “more” over me and I shook violently. I continued to tremble after coming home for several days especially when sharing my experiences about this conference with anyone.
People ask how these experiences have changed me. I have an increased hunger to know Jesus more intimately, and a burning desire to be in His presence daily. There is nothing that gives me more joy than getting lost in worship. I am consumed; I am obsessed; I am addicted to the lover of my soul and I can NOT get enough of Him! At the same time, many physical things that I have been fighting in my body are showing improvement. I have been able to cut back to half on the meds I take for pain, anxiety, and high blood pressure with no ill effects. I have constant joy, zest for life, and excitement about what God is doing in the earth. The things of this world hold no more attraction for me. I feel like I have come alive from the deadness of my previous existence. My heart’s desire now is to see Jesus lifted higher, to see others set free as I have been, and to see the lost come to know Him and His amazing grace.

Demonic Attack

By David Hobbs

If I asked 100 people if they had ever experienced a demonic attack, how many would say yes? The truth is we all have, probably many times, but usually we’re not aware of it. We attribute it to something else—the blues, a stomach bug, out-of-sorts, worry, anger: the list could go on and on. All of these things could be legitimate in and of themselves, but Satan uses such things as cover for his attacks. What starts out as simple anger can, under the right circumstances, escalate into demonic rage. How else do you explain a person killing someone in a rage over some inconsequential thing, like when the Battle of 1812 was fought? “Oh he has an anger problem,” we say. No, he has more of an anger opening—his anger opens him up to the devil to use for his murderous attacks. In the case just mentioned there are 2 demonic attacks going on. The first comes against the man with the “anger problem” whose anger opens him up to the demonic realm, and the second comes through him against the man he is angry at and ends up killing. Two attacks, two victims: one dead and one guilty of murder.
But this is not an essay on demonic attacks, but rather a story about one. Most of the time the devil attacks in subtlety so that we hardly know the origin of what’s coming against us. But there are times he opens his mouth against us and roars! These can make for some hair-raising experiences.
One Saturday the church family was at work building our all-purpose gymnasium. I had worked there all day with my mentor boy, Kou, and now I was driving him to his home in Olivehurst. I drove through the last signal light in Marysville and was about to start up the E St. Bridge over the Yuba River when I noticed a hitch hiker standing on the corner of the street with his thumb out. Since both the 2 seats of my paint were occupied by Kou and me, I never thought twice about stopping to pick him up. But as I got nearly opposite the hitch hiker, he suddenly looked up at me, making eye contact, and I was face-to-face with the devil! His eyes projected hate, his lips snarled, he was mouthing bitter words, and with the hand that he had been hitch hiking with, he suddenly thrust out at me “the finger.”
It all happened in a moment of time and then I was past, not quite sure what had just happened. “Wow! He’s going to have a hard time getting a ride like that,” was the thought that went through my mind.
I continued over the bridge and picked up speed as the road became a freeway with a 65 mph speed limit.
Just as I got to cruising speed there was a terrible clatter on top of the van. It sounded like the roof was coming off! “What in the world!?” I looked in the rear view mirror just in time to see my 28 foot extension ladder slide off the back of the van with a final crash and plunge into the street. I slammed on the brakes and veered to the side of the road, the ladder still sliding down the road behind me. I had been leading a clump of cars going through town together and now the cars behind me started swerving in panic trying to miss the sliding ladder.
Now off to the side of the road, I slammed the van into reverse and gunned it backward toward where the ladder had finally stopped in the traffic lane. But as the van lunged backward, we were heading right into the path of several cars that had swerved around the ladder on the berm. “Look out!” my brain was screaming as I spun the wheel sharply right and slammed on the brakes yet again to avoid the careening cars.
There were cars in the fast lane, and we had the berm blocked. An SUV came roaring up, unable to stop with no place to swerve. “Crash!” It hit the ladder with a wicked smacking sound at about 40 mph and kept going.
Then, just as suddenly, it was over. No cars stopped, and when the cluster that came through the green light with me was past, the road was empty. “Let’s get the ladder!” I shouted to Kou as I threw the shift lever into “Park.” We bailed out and raced back to the ladder, pulling it out of the road before the next batch of cars could come. Then we secured it to the ladder rack and I drove Kou home, still shaking from the adrenaline rush.
We hadn’t used the ladder that day. In fact we hadn’t used any ladder from the van that day. In thinking back, I realized that it had been weeks since I had last used that ladder, since in most cases the shorter 20 footer is sufficient. I always kept each ladder tied down with 2 straps in case one broke. But there were no broken straps anywhere. (In fact there were no straps at all, like they had just disappeared.) In my 13 years of running the painting business, I had never had a ladder come off my van before. I’d even driven 11 miles from Live Oak to Yuba City once with a ladder not tied down and not lost it!
Then I remembered that strange, demonic hitch hiker. “That sucker cursed me; that’s what happened. That’s what he was doing--mouthing curses and projecting hatred from every pore of his body as we passed!” And it was effective too! “That sucker’s ‘prayers’ had some pop to them.” Only the grace of God kept there from being a multi-car pileup, which would have been entirely my fault.
“The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much (Jas. 5:16).” And likewise: if it’s fervent enough, even an unrighteous man’s prayer can be quite powerful! And I still have a ladder with a broken side-piece to prove it!
The question is, How powerful are our prayers? Are we using live ammunition yet, or are we still firing blanks?

The "Miktams" of God

By David Hobbs

“Miktam” is a Hebrew word in the Psalms used to describe a special kind of psalm. Used only 6 times, it introduces psalms that recount David’s most harrowing experiences as a God-follower, where his life was in immediate peril and where only a miraculous intervention by God could save him. These were experiences like the one described by Paul in 2 Cor. 1:8 where he talks about “the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.”
One of the places David uses this term is Psalm 56 where he recounts the time he fled to Gath out of fear of King Saul only to be captured by Philistine soldiers who recognized him as the slayer of Goliath, their hometown hero. They brought him to the king of Gath who could have ordered his immediate execution. David was so terrified by his imminent peril that the Bible says he feigned insanity, drooled into his beard, and “scrabbled on the doors of the gate” (1 Sam. 21:13 KJV). This is the context in which he wrote Psalm 56.
But the whole meaning of the word “Miktam” is not just a scary remembrance. It literally means “engraving” and spiritually it refers to a time when the dark setting of the dangerous experience serves only to highlight the bright jewel of the love of God manifested in the miraculous deliverance. Therefore, the whole episode is remembered not as a traumatic event, but as a golden demonstration of the faithfulness, love, and power of God in the wondrous escape. As such, it becomes one of our most precious “memories of grace,” forever engraved on our heart; from which we can draw comfort and solace again and again as new challenges arise.
One of my most precious Miktams occurred in April of 2006. Some of us from our church were in L.A. to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the Azusa St. revival. I wasn’t planning to go because I was in the throes of getting my book Out of the Fire ready for publication. Since I was self-publishing there were lots of details of design and formatting that normally the publisher would handle, the final editing on the content that normally an editor would handle, copyright procedures, permissions to secure--the list seemed to go on and on. The whole process kept taking longer than expected and I had to keep moving the publication date up, a month at a time.
Therefore, as tempted as I was by the prospect of spending a week seeking the presence of God and learning about one of the great revivals of all time, I really didn’t want to lose focus on what I was doing. But then I was told that someone had paid for Marcine and my way, and it didn’t seem right to refuse (good thing, because it later turned out to be our pastor and his wife who were our benefactors). So there we were at the L. A. Convention Center with thousands of others, spending time worshipping and getting inspired about the moving of the Spirit of God.
I have discovered a pattern at such getaway events. I always expect a time of great blessing and experience of God’s presence, but the actual pattern is an initial blessing, then a time of intense dealing in my life by the Spirit of God, a breakthrough, and then more blessing. So after a day or two of good meetings and spiritual experiences, I began to “go through it” over my book. One of the classes I was taking in the morning session was on writing and publishing for God. The classes were good, but they began to dredge up the same old demons I had fought so long in the writing of the book, and even back to the writing of my first book, Waiting for the Dawn, where they almost destroyed me. They involved motive—why was I writing? It was a catch 22 situation. The accusation was that I wanted to write for me, to be famous, to be honored, to be somebody, to exalt self. The only way I could prove that this wasn’t so was to not write, to lay it all down. “See, I don’t need this.” But after awhile I would feel that old unction again. And when I prayed about what God wanted me to do and how I could enter fully into His calling for my life I would sense the Holy Spirit ask, “Whatever happened to that book you were writing for Me?”
But there didn’t seem to be any way I could purify my motives. When I started to work on it again, the secret pride would come back, the dreams of grandeur. I disowned them, rebuked them, rejected them, but couldn’t get rid of them. I couldn’t still the accusing voices because my sense of honesty to an extent compelled me to agree with them.
Now these classes were bringing all these issues to the surface again and I was miserable. The third morning I stayed in the main auditorium instead of going to a class. They were holding a workshop on worship and I thought maybe in the presence of God in worship I could find some answers. But the weight got heavier and heavier. I moved over to a section of seats where I could be alone. I knelt at a seat while the music was playing and it was as if all these voices rose up to surround and mock me—all my inadequacies, inabilities, failings as a writer and as a person, my barrenness as a Christian, the hopelessness of my life--the whole kit and caboodle was slowly spinning around me, mocking and accusing me. It was as if I was in the middle of a whirlpool, a vortex, surrounded by the voices of my failures. “Wow,” I thought to myself, “this is the kind of stuff that drives men to insanity and suicide.” I found Marcine, who was not far away. “I’m in a vortex,” I said, “surrounded by accusing voices; pray for me.”
In a daze, I got up and wandered closer to the front of the auditorium, where the music was coming from. I tried to get as close as possible to the music. People had seats staked out in the front but I found the nearest unclaimed seat and stood there to worship. I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t sing or even speak. I just stood there with my arms outstretched to God and tears running down my face.
Finally the song was over, we all sat down and the musician started to teach on worship. Almost as soon as I sat down I fell asleep from exhaustion. I awoke just as his teaching was ending, having missed the entire lesson, but feeling better.
On the trip home the subject of the book just seemed to come up, and I was able to talk freely about what I was usually too embarrassed to discuss. The experience proved to a turning point in the battle with my demons that finally enabled the book to come forth.