One Ripper of a Prayer Meeting!

By David Hobbs

We hear a lot about demonic attacks, and I’ve experienced a number of them. But I had never experienced anything like what I’m about to relate to you.

 I’ve started going to this intercessory prayer meeting at my old church led by Stephanie, my long time prayer compadre, and Cheryl, the pastor’s wife, with whom I have spent hundreds of hours in prayer over the last 10 years. Because of the seriousness of the days we are in, the meeting runs 2 hours a day, 5 days a week. We spend the first hour mostly praying in tongues--the first half of which we pray independently, and the second half we sit together in a circle holding hands while we pray. Then we take a few minutes to let people share what they saw or experienced in this first hour praying in the Spirit. The second hour we intercede (“pray into”) those things which people saw in the first hour. Usually there are 6-8 prayer warriors praying, but I have counted as many as 13.

The prayer can be quite intense and I often leave wrung out physically and emotionally, yet energized wondrously in the spirit from crying out to the Lord. Many times I start out with my soul completely dry. I have to go through the motions for a while, but almost invariably the Holy Spirit will come on me at some point and I will be completely quickened. It’s a wonderful prayer meeting!

Two weeks ago to the day we were in the second half of the first hour, circled up and praying in tongues. I sensed a lot of spiritual energy in the room, like static electricity in the air before a thunderstorm, but it wasn’t coming together in focus on any one thing. Then Stephanie launched into a song in the Spirit. Now when I sing a song in the Spirit, it is usually free-flowing and melodic. But Stephanie’s song was martial in character, crisp in cadence like a military marching song--loud and emphatic. It was powerful, but still didn’t draw everyone together. I tried to find a place to flow with it but couldn’t.

When we shared what we were experiencing, I said that I sensed a lot of spiritual energy, but it seemed unfocused. I got some agreement to that. Then we went into the intercession time, but people began slipping away. Stephanie had to leave, and others as well. About 20 minutes into it there was only Cheryl and me and dear sister Sherry, who rarely says anything, though she experiences things deeply in her spirit.

Then it happened!

When I see things in the Spirit I get momentary flashes of mental images, like in my Walking in the Spirit book, where, in the chapter “Spiritual Warfare in the Garden House,” I kept getting images of hideous, angry, demonic faces while feeling their presence in my spirit.

Now, suddenly I saw images of flashing swords, rearing horses, and the chaos of battle. “I think there’s a spiritual battle going on!” I said excitedly to Cheryl, “I’m going to pray into it!" We both started praying and the Spirit swept in and energized us incredibly. The forces of heaven had launched an all-out attack against the armies of hell in the room and we were right in the middle of it!

The battle was no contest. The hosts of heaven were victorious wherever they turned, just like when they went out in front of Israel’s armies in the Old Testament. It’s never a question of who is stronger--God’s forces are always stronger. The question is whether the people of God can qualify for heaven’s help. This morning we had qualified and the battle was engaged. I began casting down demonic strongholds over the area and calling in everything the devil had stolen from us: our health, our callings, our resources, our children, our hopes, our vision—demanding that he restore it all with interest, demanding that he give up all his ill-gotten gain--that he restore seven-fold. We called out for total victory in our area and for the hundred mile radius around us—no more sickness, no more suicides, no more crime, no more demonic influence--the Kingdom of God here on earth just like it is in heaven.

It came in waves. One wave would pass and then another one would come with new images which sparked new prayers. At one point I saw the gates of hell bulging from the pressure coming against them. “The gates of hell shall not prevail against the church!” I shouted over and over. “The gates of hell shall not prevail!” I saw the gates again in vision form splintering as the pressure against them caused bits of wood to break loose and fly off. I never saw them burst open as I hoped, but they suffered significant damage.

The time went on and on with the fire and glory of God all around us and the hosts of heaven routing the wicked foe on every hand. I really thought that we had entered a new reality in God, that this was Armageddon or something--that we had crossed over a divide never to return.

There are times that does happen in the Bible. Enoch walked with God and one day, “poof!” was no more, for God took him. He entered a new realm in God never to return to the old normal. Joel 3:18 says a day is coming when:

 … the mountains shall drip with new wine, the hills shall flow with milk, and all the brooks of Judah shall be flooded with water; a fountain shall flow from the house of the Lord and water the Valley of Acacias.

 Zechariah 14 talks about a similar day:

 6It shall come to pass in that day that there will be no light; The lights will diminish. 7It shall be one day which is known to the Lord—neither day nor night. But at evening time it shall happen that it will be light. 8And in that day it shall be that living waters shall flow from Jerusalem, Half of them toward the eastern sea and half of them toward the western sea; In both summer and winter it shall occur.

 There definitely are such “suddenlys” in the Bible. But not this time. After an incredible half hour the troops rode off and the prayer meeting ended right on time! Still, I was pumped up all weekend. And even now when I relate the story to someone, I get pumped up all over again. I had never seen God launch an attack on the hordes of hell, let alone doing it right in my presence. It was, as my sister Cheryl so aptly put it, “one ripper of a prayer meeting!”

In Pursuit of Divine Healing

By David Hobbs

Do I believe in divine healing? I have seen many people in the church over the years afflicted with terminal illnesses. While some have died, some have been miraculously healed.

Mark was a lawyer. He and his family were in our home group when he was suddenly afflicted with a brain tumor at the age of about 40. A brain tumor is considered terminal. You can operate and cut it out, but it will grow back. That’s what happened to Mark. The brain tumor was cut out, it grew back, it was cut out again, it came back again….

Now the human body can only withstand so many brain surgeries. When further operations were ruled out, Mark, increasingly desperate, began seeking out alternative treatments, grasping at straws you might say. All the while, of course, the church was praying for him. But death was rapidly approaching.

His life insurance policies had a provision that in the case of a terminal illness, within the last few months of life they would pay the death benefit early to help with medical costs.

His life insurance policies paid off. Then God miraculously intervened and healed him! That was 10-15 years ago and he’s still walking around today, perfectly whole, though without any life insurance.

Then there was Ronnie: “Mr. Tough Guy,” ex-Green Beret. He was not serving God, but God was dealing with him. He came down with lung cancer, throat cancer, and emphysema, rapidly getting worse with no hope of recovery. There came a night in the hospital when they expected him to die before morning. His wife was there, and said the smell of death was in the room.

Then Jesus showed up, appearing to Ronnie in bright light and healing him. After his healing, Ronnie started a ministry to the homeless people living in the river bottoms. His church services now are bigger than most of the regular church services in town.

I hardly knew Ronnie before his healing. He had only started coming to church and was known mainly to our pastor, though we prayed for him in men’s prayer meetings. With Mark, though he was in my home group, I didn’t get actively involved with him either. That was before my personal revival, and to be honest, when I first heard of his brain tumor, I was overwhelmed by the seriousness of it, and whatever faith I had went right out the window. I prayed, but with no conviction he’d be healed. And it was to my shame but secret relief that the Lord moved him out of my home group to be around others with more faith.

But there were two people that I actively contended for and got personally involved in the spiritual battle for their lives. Bill a lovable man, again about 40, got Lou Gehrig’s disease (ALS). I joined the fight for him for years. They put him in a support group of others with the disease. He outlasted them all. He hung on for 5 years as we desperately prayed and hoped for healing. But then he died: a bitter blow to all of us.

And then there was Julia, a small but feisty, on-fire-for-Jesus gal in her 40s. Julia had a heart of love (sometimes "tough love") and was one of the most selfless people I have ever known.

She got cancer in her internal organs and at first they battled it mostly within the family. After an intense prayer fight it went into remission and we praised God for the victory. But a year later it came back. This time I threw myself into the fight. I was experiencing revival in my life at the time and was eager to see what the Lord would do in answer to our prayers.

Her husband Steve, as good a man as you’ll ever find anywhere, had prayer meetings in his house several times a week. We would pray for Julia, but also praise and worship to elicit the presence of the Lord. Steve even taught himself to play the piano so he’d never lack for a musician in the house. We had wonderful times of worship, the presence and love of Jesus often being so thick you could “cut it with a knife.”

I kept looking for the ultimate position from which to pray for her healing. One way was to claim the promises in the Bible: “By His stripes we are healed;” “He sent His word and healed them;” “[He] forgiveth all thine iniquities; [he] healeth all thy diseases,” etc. Another way was to make faith declarations to her: “Be healed in Jesus’ Name;” “Jesus heals thee; go in peace.” Then there were different variations of fighting the enemy such as cursing the cancer cells, binding the power of cancer and death, and resisting the work of the devil in her life. Then there was proclaiming the destiny of God being fulfilled in her life, and prohibiting anything from interfering in that. There was bringing forth the presence of God and His anointing through our worship, filling the house with the Holy Spirit and then praying Him to hover over and heal her; and also asking the Holy Spirit within her to rise up and throw off the disease and rebuke death on her behalf. We claimed healing, commanded healing, spoke healing, asked for healing, defied the devil…. Each thing we tried seemed a little better than the last, but then there was always something else that came along that looked even surer.

Finally, one evening I was sure I had found the ultimate stance to take; this could not be improved on. “Here I take my stand.” I even told Pastor Dave I thought I had finally found the ultimate prayer position from which to claim her healing. The next morning she died.

The irony of the timing was not lost on me. I was trying to apply human thinking to a spiritual situation and definitely came up short. (His thoughts are not our thoughts and our thoughts are not His thoughts.)

So the two people in whom I invested the most of myself, died; while the two people that I judged way beyond my level of faith were healed. In all cases it seemed like God did what He wanted to do and our prayers—while important , and though He commands us to pray—were not the determining factor whether they were healed or not.

What would I do differently today? I think that one person seeking God for His will and then praying accordingly with total conviction, is more powerful than a church full of people praying without discernment. The default position that the church has used with prayer for so long—if they’re sick pray for healing, if they’re in trouble pray for deliverance, etc.—needs to be re-thought. We need the mind of the Lord!

But yes I believe in divine healing. I’ve seen it too many times not to.

The Present War

By David Hobbs

9/19/2010

The war rages all around us. But how many Christians have eyes to see and understand the battles we find ourselves in? The closer I get to Jesus, the more intense the warfare becomes. I am reminded of Scriptures like Psalm 50:3—“Our God comes and will not be silent; a fire devours before him, and around him a tempest rages.” Being close to Jesus (or desiring to be close as in my case) is not easy. Consider Mt. 8:23—“Then [Jesus] got into the boat and his disciples followed him. 24 Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat…. ‘Lord, save us! We’re going to drown.’”

Our church had been planning a prophetic worship conference for a year. We had been praying into it, and anticipating in faith that it would take us to a higher spiritual level. We didn’t have the money readily at hand to bring in the 5 prophetic worshippers/singers/musicians we wanted. Along with others, I participated in a dinner theatre and many other ways to raise money. We prayed, went on 3 day fasts, and invited people to come.

Now at last the week was here. It was a tough week, as it always is approaching a high spiritual time. I was doing a painting job with many difficult aspects to it. The temperatures were around 100 degrees. I had a deadline. It was hard getting the help I needed. It was very stressful time. I dropped off my former foster son “Jake” Thursday morning to work on the job while I took the hour drive to Sacramento to pray in the Capital as usual. The prayer time was totally dry. I had nothing to contribute, couldn’t focus, and kept falling asleep.

Upon my return to the job site I found Jake sprawled out on the front porch. He said he’d fallen off the top on an 8 ft. stepladder and hurt his back. Jake was always taking chances, and many times had come sliding off of roofs or had other spectacular experiences, always seeming to escape serious consequences.

Everywhere I looked there were brushes, rollers, and buckets of paint drying out in the sweltering sun. My other son Dan had been supposed to drop off an airless at the job which I needed to paint a deck and some doors. But it wasn’t there. I called Dan. He was across town ½ hour away but agreed to bring the airless to me. But as he was on his way, Jake suddenly informed me that in his fall he had spilled the paint and there was none left. The paint store was in Dan’s direction but now it was too late to get him to pick up more on his way over. I would have to not only take Jake home, but now make the trip across town myself to get more paint, and then try to finish the job without Jake’s help.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost it completely and started yelling at Jake, who started yelling back at me. I truly “cracked.” I was in a rage so intense that it lasted the rest of the day (Thurs).

Friday came and I was still unsettled. Though I had blown it, God was still faithful. Out of nowhere, He sent two people, including Dan (who was working on his own job), to help me finish my job. But it was as if my spiritual being was turned inside out. The rage and angst had left me exhausted, the heat had left me dehydrated, and the conference started that evening.

I went, but I was so out of sorts I could hardly enter in. I did the best I could by faith, but my innards were still a jumbled mass.

The next session was Sat. morning. I had gotten as much sleep as I could, but I was still exhausted and still dehydrated. I was also being attacked in my mind, both for my own failings and the conference itself was being disparaged. I couldn’t seem to get my spiritual legs under me. I was off balance and unable to function, like a fighter reeling against the ropes. There were workshops that afternoon, but I stayed home and slept, hoping to regain my strength.

Saturday night was another battle. I went through the motions but just couldn’t “get into gear.”

Sunday morning I was still exhausted, both physically but increasingly spiritually. My wife went off to the Sunday morning session while I stayed home to sleep, thereby missing what people agreed later was the best meeting of the conference. Sunday afternoon I napped some more--there seemed to be no way to catch up on my sleep deficit. Now there was only one meeting left; it was all going by me like a train going by the station. I was used to experiencing spiritual warfare leading up to an event. But it had been my experience that once the event started, the warfare ceased and the Lord took over. Now for the first time the warfare was lasting right through the whole conference.

When the last meeting started Sunday night, I was so overwhelmed I was unable to speak or sing and too tired to stand. There were only two things I could do—I could tap my feet along to the music and raise my hands. So the meeting chugged along with me lost in the crowd, tapping my feet and raising my hands in mute appeal to heaven. But that was enough!
As the worship progressed I began to be able to make some sounds; then I could sing along; finally I could stand. By the end of the meeting I was totally restored to normal, like the whole thing had never happened!

So where did that leave me? I had missed virtually the entire conference, but come out on top at the end. It seemed to be kind of a spiritual draw, though the Bible does put importance on the end of a matter more than the beginning or middle (“he that endures to the end shall be saved.”)

All I know for sure is that the warfare is intense, which means we’re getting close to Jesus! It’s no time to back down or give up. He who is in us is greater than he who is in the world. Praise the Lord!

Spiritual Warfare at the Garden House

By David Hobbs

The Garden House is a shed out back of my folk’s house in Ohio. Half used for tools and storage, and half fixed into a little apartment with bed, table and wood stove, it is my place of prayer when home visiting. Exciting things have happened there, the chief being meeting Jesus once in prayer in the dead of night (see blog post “Friday Night at the Garden House” posted 2-17-08). That’s the only time Jesus has visited me personally and even then I was kept from seeing Him or hearing Him audibly. Still that has forever made the garden house holy ground.

That had been in July 2007. Now it was 2 years later in July 2009 and I was back because of my book tour. I went out to pray the first night and it was very difficult. But prayer is sometimes like that, and I was tired from driving for several days straight…. But when the next night was just as hard, I took stock. Hmm. Different young people from the family had used the place in my absence. They went back there to smoke and drink and hang out at family reunions. I realized the demons had been let back in.
Many people, when they experience a difficult time in prayer, agree with thoughts the enemy puts in their minds like, “I’m just not good at prayer. Prayer is so dry, how do people do it? Prayer just isn’t my thing, etc.” Little do they know that those aren’t even their own thoughts, that they’re agreeing with the lies of the enemy, and that he has also bound them spiritually and put roadblocks in their way to keep them from breaking through in prayer. Our spirits do want to pray, because prayer is life-giving contact with God. Meeting with Him in prayer is like getting our spiritual extension cords plugged into His power outlet—we get quickened, rejuvenated, and re-energized in our Christian walk (see "The Nourishing Sap of the Holy Spirit, 7-6-08). The enemy is clever at hiding from us what he is doing to separate us from God. The enemy loves to hide in the darkness, but the Holy Spirit loves to come and overturn the rocks he is hiding under and see the demons flee .
I realized now it was not me, but that I was encountering spiritual resistance from an entrenched foe. Understanding is half the victory, because God has already given us the tools we need. I began to praise the Lord out loud, contrary to my feelings and the feelings of dry hardness in the garden house. “Glory to God! Praise the Lord! Jesus I proclaim Your victory on the cross!” I could feel the shackles on me letting go and the anointing arise from within me. I got louder and louder. Suddenly there arose a fierce spiritual battle as the demons, exposed and confronted by the Word of the Lord under the unction of the Holy Spirit, responded with ferocious hatred. They were all around the outside of the building in the dark while I was inside in the bright, spiritual light, walking back and forth in that little space, praising the Lord and declaring His victory at the top of my voice.
How did I know they were there? I could sense them in my spirit: their agitation and their hatred. Also, there were 4 windows in the room. Two went to the outside, the third was in a door that went to the outside, and the fourth was in the door that went to the storage side of the building. Often as I passed a window I would get a split-second glimpse in my spirit of an angry, ugly demonic face glaring at me.
As I’ve learned before, the Holy Spirit within me is not in the least bit intimidated by the demonic. In fact, it energizes Him. So now the Holy Spirit within me was fired up for action and we kept up a loud barrage of praising the Lord and declaring His victory and the devil’s defeat.
Now here’s the key. The demons were swirling outside like a swarm of bees whose nest had just been broken up. They had me surrounded inside the garden house off in the woods away from the house in the dark of the night. I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t run, and I couldn’t escape. I had to remain there, stay on task, stay focused, and wait for the Lord to come and deliver me and defeat them. And so the battle raged. I had no fear, but it was also hairy because I knew they were stronger than I, and my victory depended on not yielding but remaining on attack. And there was no guarantee how long it might take!
After about half an hour of intense praise and declarations, suddenly it was over. They were gone, driven off by the heavenly hosts. Now I could go outside in the dark to relieve myself without fear.
There were no more hindrances to prayer the rest of my time there. In fact, praying in the garden house after that was so tame it became boring, so I began going out and walking around the property to pray.