"Holy Spirit, I really hope I am hearing You."

With a sigh, I leaned in, pushed the shifter into neutral, turned the key to the on position, and thanked God that I had a clear path of at least fifty feet ahead of me.

"Lord, if this is just my imagination, please just let me know. I feel like an idiot. Huh... Big deal, right?"

Then like some overweight, Olympic bob sled team reject, I took two deep breaths and channeled all my strength into two knocked knees.

It was a good thing that the midget car was light.

Ten intense strides. . . A precise leap into the driver's seat. . . Clutch down. . . Second gear. . . Pop the clutch. . . Slam the door. . . Give her gas. . . Dear God, don't hit anyone or anything. . . Breathe again. . . Down the road I go!

Three months with a broke starter and I was certainly practiced.

Long years of being broke, and I was resigned to the fact that it might be awhile until it was fixed.

The whole Flintstone-manual-foot-powered-start "thing" was beginning to feel like Heaven's antidote to pride.

"Not entirely a bad situation." I mused.

The drab winter sun exposed the tired face of my adopted city.

Like a Madame well past her youth, yesterday's makeup smeared from an un-naturally deep sleep, Reno grimaced in the afternoon light.

"Turn right." Like all the times before, the voice in my head was clear and concise.

"Now, go straight. . . Yes, turn left at the signal." Insistently the directions were given, and I dutifully obeyed.

Turn after turn, mile after mile.

"Lord, why is this happening? I hear what I hear. I pray that it is You. But I do not understand."

Forty minutes down the road, and the voice spoke, "Now son, stop here."

This was a familiar drill.

I did as the voice directed, put the car in neutral, pulled the parking brake and stepped out into the chill air.

In the distance the mountains were beautiful, clad like a bride in snow white splendor.

Inside, I was as empty and barren as the desert under my feet.

I listened intently within and without.

Enveloped in solitude, not even the breeze sounded.

The voice was as silent as the dirtscape around me.

I grumbled, "This is crazy.Holy Spirit, I don't even know if this is You. Every time it is the same thing. I do what I hear. Get in the car. Randomly drive all over the area. End up in some 'whatever' place. Lots of silence. Hang out. Time drags. More silence. Go home. Feel frustrated. Grouch at Michelle and the kids. Hang my head. Preach another victorious sermon. Tell my congregation how awesome it is to lead a Spirit led life. . . Yep, how cool is that?"

Making my way back to interstate 80 and home, I prayed in tongues.

Questions and doubts buffeted my heart.

I had been blessed to experience God in many astounding ways from my salvation on, but I wanted more of Him.

Praying, fasting, studying, and accountability to other Believers were principles well established in my life, but still I hungered for a deeper walk - an infinite intimacy - with God.

I desperately wanted to more clearly discern His voice and heart.

Yet this latest experiment - if one could call it that - felt like an extreme exercise in futility and foolishness.

I would share my heart with my wife, Michelle, and she was always sweet and sympathetic, but these seemingly pointless drives around the area were creating some genuine uncertainties.

Several months passed with more of the same.

One morning, as I prepared to go to the church office, a hard knock blistered the door.

We quickly answered and found a young woman with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eyes large and desperate, she stood shaking on our step.

Her baby was fussing on her hip, and she looked as shattered as anyone I had ever seen.

She was an active member of our congregation and we had known her and her young husband for some years.

We brought her in and asked her what had happened.

She shared how she and her husband had been having more difficulties.

He had been saved out of some very dark circumstances and still wrestled with issues from his past.

The night before, he had lost it and committed some heart wrenching sins.

Leaving in a rage and demonic haze, he had driven off into the night.

She then played a phone message for us in which there were demonic voices and threats manifesting through him.

The evil was intense and sobering.

We were left with a fear that suicide was a real concern.

Hitting our knees, we began praying earnestly there in our home.

Then it happened.

The familiar voice said, "Get in your car."

I thought, "No not now. . . This dear family needs our prayers and comfort."

The command was repeated.

I quietly said to those interceding, "I believe God just told me to get in my car. I don't know what it all means, but I have to obey. Please pray that God will guide me."

Feeling awkward, I left without looking back. .

As always the directions were very precise and detailed, and after about fifteen minutes, I found myself on the opposite side of town entering an unfamiliar industrial area.

The voice continued, "Slow down. . . Turn right at the light. . . Merge into the left lane. . ."

There, one car ahead of me, was an old pickup I knew well, and driving it was the young man for whom we had been praying.

I was so amazed that it took a moment to grasp what had happened.

Hearing, "Stay back and simply follow him.", I could not help but begin to praise God.

I marveled at the fact that there in front of me was the most remarkable answer to my questions and nagging doubts.

Knowledge filled my soul.

All those seemingly random excursions, and pointless outings, had in truth, been practice runs.

Holy Spirit led exercises to prepare me for this moment of critical need.

Practical, "hands on" teaching by God Himself, so that the Good Shepherd could direct me on this day at this time to one of His lost lambs.

I now had the privilege of partnering with the Good Shepherd in leaving the ninety nine to find the precious one!

As the young man drove out of the industrial area, I followed with rejoicing in my heart.

Then brake lights lit up and he pulled over and parked.

A small creek choked with aspen and thick brush ran nearby.

I thought for sure he would see me as I continued past him, but his attention was on the water.

Continuing around a bend, I too, pulled over.

Quickly exiting my car, I made my way back to where he had stopped.

He had left his truck with the keys still in the ignition, and I felt strongly to wait for him.

The first evidence of the coming spring colored the aspen and sage brush.

The scent of fresh water and new growth lent an invigorating zest to a fickle breeze.

With a smile, I sighed in anticipation of what I believed God was about to do.

A few minutes later, he walked up from the creek below.

Suddenly, he saw me and froze in his tracks.

Shock, irritation, and more than a little confusion registered painfully on his face.

I waited and watched.

He finally approached looking sullen and apprehensive.

At first, he refused to make eye contact.

I then shared with him all that had happened.

How God loved him so much that he would miraculously lead someone to his exact location.

How, obviously, it is impossible to hide from God and His love.

How his wife, and my family were praying for him.

How he could be forgiven and the lies of the enemy could be silenced.

How he was not hopeless and he had not gone "too far", for the truth was that God and all of us were waiting to embrace him and restore him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Indeed, though it was difficult and took time, he was fully restored and years later he is faithfully serving the Lord.

He and his wife have many wonderful children who also love the Lord, and they are all vibrant, outspoken witnesses of God's grace and love.

I pray that this simple testimony might serve to encourage you in your adventure walk into the place of "infinite intimacy" with God.

I have found that the "pat answers" are not enough, if one really wants to touch God's heart.

Of course, the foundational principles of prayer, fasting, Bible study, and accountability to other Believers in authentic Christian community can not be over-emphasized, but the courage to humbly allow the Holy Spirit to stretch you outside your comfort zone, is never to be despised.

The Kingdom of Heaven really is for the child-like!

So. . . Allow the wonder, the joy of discovery, the simplicity of heart, and yes, even the pain of mistakes, to propel you ever closer to oneness with God.

Hey, be patient with God and yourself!

Remember, the greatest gift you can ever give to the people around you is for you, yourself, to be one with God, for then, you become a glorious conduit of His loving will.

It will then flow through you to a world that desperately needs Him and the gifts only He can give!

Here's to hanging out in God's heart

Luminous in the glow of a huge full moon, the scars of use by a young family of five were softened.

It almost seemed to blend into this rugged, high desert valley.

We had towed it over miles of grinding dirt-rock roads only six months before, and settled it near a creek, where wild horses drank each evening.

Behind our dwelling, a steep hill broke sharply from the sand and sage brush.

With great ceremony, the kid’s named the hill “Dog Mountain”, for to their wide eyes, the rock formation at the top was the exact likeness of a barking dog.

Tonight that likeness was a dark silhouette carved into a surreal sky.

Stepping out of my tiny, banana yellow Honda, I stretched my aching limbs.

I was finally home for the night.

Giving my two Australian Shepherds, Blue Boy, and Aspen some loving scratches, I smiled as their litter of drowsy, two week old puppies snuggled in a fluffy heap.

The back of the Honda was pregnant with twenty gallons of water for our daily needs, five gallons of gasoline for the generator, and milk for baby Kaeli-Anne who was three, Ethan who was five, and Abbi who was seven.

My jacket, zipped against the autumn chill, held a special dark chocolate bar for my twenty five year old, still blushing bride, Michelle.

I hated how little I could do for her, for my kids, for the small congregation we had started the year before with a church planting team.

The ache deep in my core was especially taunting at times like this.

The front door swung open and Michelle’s cry of welcome crowned the night.

“Oh Honey, I was so worried. I didn’t know if the car had broken down or you had been hit with another seizure. Praise God you are here safe and sound!”

Her arms encircled my waist and the beautiful fragrance of her filled my exhausted senses.

I mumbled, “yeah, it’s tough not having any phone service. I had to work late and then I got stuck at the church board meeting. But I have the water and gas, and a little something for you.”

With an embarrassed smile, I handed her the chocolate.

Her pleasure at my simple gift seemed disproportionately large, but she was always so thankful, even for the smallest things.

The ache throbbed dully.

But we knew we were where God wanted us to be for this season.

The clear direction of God’s leading had been undeniable and miraculous.

This was our assignment until we heard otherwise.

We prayed.

We learned.

We endured.

As usual, Michelle and I worked together to fill the generator with fuel and it was a relief when it hummed to life and the electric heater started inside.

It would take the chill off the children’s sleeping area.

I could see all three of them through the window, wrapped in colorful blankets, bouncing up and down.

Their smiling voices called, “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

As we filled the water tank, Michelle’s eyes held mine .

Her trust and concern made her irresistible and I filled up on a quick kiss.

I took her hands and earnestly spoke, “I’m adjusting to the seizure meds and I’m okay. God gave us a promise and we aren’t backing down. My healing is right around the corner. With you, the kids, and our church family praying... I’m in good hands, right?”

“Hmmm...”

She studied me for a moment shivering as she spoke, “Let’s get inside. You need some dinner. I’ve got some rice and vegetables and some lunch meat. I can heat it up for you on the stove! Thank God for the generator.”

I was quite hungry.

As my wife cooked, I laid back on my bed, the kids piling in on top of me for tickles and hugs.

After a hot meal, I prayed with them, and listened as Michelle sang all three to sleep.

However, something just did not feel right.

As Michelle prepared for bed, I excused myself and stepped back out into the night.

It was after 11pm and the moon’s light had grown in intensity.

Closing my eyes, I prayed for a while in the Spirit.

“Father, something is wrong. I feel afraid tonight. . . For my family. Please show me what to do.”

The week before, we had discovered the existence of a large compound with armed guards and strong fences about fifteen miles away from our isolated claim.

The sense of evil from that place was hard to fathom.

We later found out that it was owned by a large satanist group and they were quite secretive in their operations.

Even with our faithful dogs standing guard, I had genuine concern for my family, since most days I was gone until after nightfall.

Sending my plea heavenward, I waited for some response from the Lord.

Blue Boy paced around the trailer nervously, and all I heard was the thrum of the generator and the wail of a coyote on the hillside.

I went back inside.

Later, when Michelle was asleep, I slipped out of bed and onto my knees.

The uncomfortable foreboding had intensified, “Oh Father,” I groaned. “What do I do?”

Quoting the twenty third psalm from memory, I dozed off.

Awakening to stabbing pain in my knees, I crawled back into bed and fell into fitful sleep.

Then something touched my leg. . .

I was so tired.

I did not feel like opening my eyes.

There it was again. . .

This time more insistent.

One of the kids must want a drink. I thought grumpily.

Exhaling loudly, I looked up and froze in terror.

A man sat on the end of my bed staring at me from the darkness.

I could not speak or breathe, and my chest hurt as a vise clamped my heart in ice.

“Get up. I have been sent to warn you that you and your family are in great danger. The enemy has launched an attack against you - a spirit of death and destruction. We have been sent to protect your property, but you must leave now. Take your family to your mother’s home. You will be safe there. Do not wait. Do it right now. If you stay, we can not protect you. So, go.”

I gasped as I sat up, eyes wide in disbelief, trying to process what was happening.

I choked out the words, “Who are you?”

His response was simple and terse, “A messenger of the Most High God. Move quickly. There is little time.”

I was trembling, but before I could say anything more, he was gone.

With a hard swallow, I shook Michelle, “Sweety, did you hear him?”

She sat up with a start, “Hear who?”

I groaned.

“We have to get the kids up right now. Grab whatever we will need for a few days. We have to go to Mama’s house.”

Consternation filled her face, “Honey, it is two in the morning...”

My voice was loud even to me, “I think it was an angel. We have to leave now. You get the kids up and ready while I start warming the car.”

“What about the dogs?”

“There is no room. We will just have to pray over them and make sure they have food and water.”

I quickly dressed and went outside.

In little more than minutes, the kids were bundled into the car and crying.

I was packing the back with bags and tensely explaining more of what had happened to a very troubled wife.

“I know it sounds crazy... I’m really freaked out myself. But we are NOT staying. Mama is only two hours south, and we are out of here.”

Michelle got in the car as I locked up the trailer.

Taking the driver’s seat and roaring down that terrible dirt road, all Michelle said was, “I am scared.”

Thirty minutes later we hit pavement and highway 395.

The little ones had settled down and I looked at my wife, “Mama is going to be surprised.”

“Should we stop at a phone booth and call her?”

“No. . . Let’s just get there. You know how hard she sleeps. She would never hear the phone. We will probably have a tough time getting her awake to answer the door.”

Michelle had lots of questions for which I did not have answers.

It had transpired so quickly.

However, the angel’s message was engraved in my psyche.

We prayed and sang softly as we drove, feeling like very small voices in a very big drama.

Without fanfare, we wearily pulled into my mother’s driveway in the tired town of Gardnerville.

The kids were mercifully sleeping, so Michelle and I quietly went to the door and knocked.

We had decided to just tell her the truth - all that had happened - hoping she would understand or at least not right us off as completely wacky.

What happened next will forever be etched in our memories.

The door flung open and Mama stood there her hands on her hips and her eyes filled with concern.

Her tired voice shot out, “And what took you so long? I sent that angel to get you hours and hours ago... Well, thank God you are FINALLY here!”

Michelle and I gaped at her in disbelief.

We were stunned.

I had not spoken with my mother in over a week.

She rolled her eyes and continued, “Come on. Get the kids inside. The sun is almost up.”

Staring at her, I stammered incredulously, “You sent an angel to get us?”

She cocked her head, “Of course, I was praying and felt you were all in danger. For your safety, I believed God wanted you down here with me. The Bible says that angels are ministering spirits sent forth to minister for us. I needed one to go get you. I sent him in Jesus’ name. Here you are. Praise God!”

She obviously did not see how this was hard to grasp.

In light of what had occurred back at the trailer on the foot of my bed, her no-nonsense application of this Scripture from Hebrews 1:14 made real sense.

We gathered the children and tucked them into bed, and with a big sigh of relief, we all went to sleep praising the Lord.

Later, I asked my mother if she had actually seen the angel she had sent.

She answered with a laugh, “No. I did not need to see him. I did it by faith. If God’s Word says I have authority to do something, then I do it and trust God with the results.”

Two days passed and we all felt it was time to go back to the mining claim.

Pulling up to the property, Michelle and I were more than a little anxious.

We were concerned about our dogs, and we had no idea what we would find.

As we all got out of the car, Blue Boy and Aspen met us with worried looks.

The midday sun was clear and bright and we could see a number of puppies on short, wobbly legs by the entrance to their house.

At first glance, everything looked fine and undisturbed.

I went to check inside the trailer, and Michelle went to check the dogs’ water and food.

Unlocking the door, I stepped inside.

It was still chilly from the night before, but seemed normal enough.

As I turned to step back out the door, I heard Michelle cry out, “Lance, please come here.”

Her voice was broken and tense.

I ran to where she stood looking down into the large five gallon bucket we used for the adult dogs’ water.

The puppies had their own shallow water dish that looked a little low, but was undisturbed.

She had her hand over her mouth and tears filled her eyes.

To my shock, three small puppies floated lifeless in the half empty bucket.

“How did they get in there?” I shuddered. “There is no way they could have gotten in there on their own. The bucket is way too tall. Someone or something had to have done this. . .”

Those puppies were only sixteen days old.

That five gallon bucket was seven times taller than any one of them.

It was simply a physical impossibility for them to have climbed in unassisted.

Abbi was crying angrily and holding Ethan and Kaeli-Anne tightly to herself.

Through her tears, her voice rose shrilly, “Somebody mean was bad - so bad!”

I spoke softly to my wife, “I will start the generator. Take the kids indoors and comfort them. I need to look around for some evidence of what happened. I will bury the puppies.”

As I studied the ground, circling our property repeatedly, it was clear that the only tire tracks for miles were ours.

No other vehicle had been anywhere near us.

Furthermore, the only footprints were from our own shoes.

No other person had walked anywhere on or near our property.

Clearly, no one had been there since we had left two days before.

I felt an ugly chill slither up my spine.

I had no explanation in the natural realm.

No human had drowned those puppies.

The angel’s words cut a burning swath across my thoughts, “...you and your family are in great danger. The enemy has launched an attack against you - a spirit of death and destruction...”

After tying up Blue Boy and Aspen, I gathered the three beautiful puppies, wrapped their still forms in a towel, and cleaned and refilled the water bucket.

Then I bent down, and picked up my shovel, my conclusions, and the crude burial shroud heavier than it’s weight.

With a small “what do we do now?" prayer sent to heaven, I walked out of sight to dig a small grave.

Soon after that day, we pulled out of there for good.

God moved through a series of further curious events, and we relocated to a comfortable townhouse next to our church.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just last night, as we celebrated our daughter, Abbi’s, twenty second birthday, we gave my mother a phone call.

She still lives in the very same house in Gardnerville, Nevada.

Gathered in our home in Tennessee, and using the loudspeaker feature on my phone, we were able to all reminisce about that time.

With fresh wonder, we considered again how powerful prayer really is.

Mama remembered how amazed she was at the fact that I had actually seen the angel!

We remembered how amazed we were that she had actually sent the angel!

All of us stood in awe at the way God put everything together to protect and guide us.

The puppies were a sad loss, but also a graphic reminder of how real the warfare can be.

Concerning angels, Hebrews 1:14 states, “Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister for those who will inherit salvation?”

I am fascinated and impressed at how my mother applied this Scripture.

Her faith and obedience to what she believed God wanted her to do - even to command - opened up an extreme deliverance for us.

I am convinced that we were spared a terrible family tragedy!

May God give us all greater boldness to unlock the promises of Scripture.

And may we have the courage and faith to apply them by the leading of the Holy Spirit to our unique circumstances.

The Word of God IS living and powerful, indeed!

Oh yes, right before this event, I had been diagnosed with epilepsy and put on high doses of dilantin to control the severe seizures that had become almost daily occurrences.

For two years we stood in faith for God’s touch, and finally it manifested!

I stopped the medication and had to prove the healing to keep my driver’s license.

No problem for God!

Every test came back normal and I was given a clean bill of health!

My VA medical records still hold the proof of the healing!

God is so faithful.

In Him,

Jesus stood there.

Heart still pounding from the exertion, he mopped stinging sweat from His eyes.

A deep cleansing breath filled His lungs as the last of the moneychangers and sellers of sacrifices clambered from the courtyard.

The echos of their curses faded more quickly than their burning welts would - ones His makeshift whip had left on their stubborn backs and egos.

"It is written," The cry of this carpenter turned rabbi scorched the air of the temple, "'My house shall be called a house of prayer,' but you have made it a den of thieves!"

The sight that met Him as He turned, caused His eyes to drip unashamed compassion.

The blind and the lame,

        the broken,

                the helpless,

                        and the weak

        were rapidly filling the void left by the departure of the powerful moneychangers and sacrifice sellers.

Awe and wonder radiated from their upturned faces now scattered amidst the chaos of overturned tables,

        damaged cages,

                fluttering doves,

                        lambs running free,

                                and scattered money.

        Money that many, now discreetly, and some not so discreetly, slipped into empty pockets with furtive glances to the right and left.

Jesus looked at them, and knew exactly what to do.

        He healed them.

                Boldly and decisively.

                        Any who needed healing.

                               This was becoming an irrepressible joy-fest.

        Children in unabashed abandonment danced and sang, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna to the Son of David!"

Their sing-song chant mixed exquisitely with the shouts of joy and laughter as the blind saw, the lame walked, the weak were made strong.

Jesus thought happily, Now, this is what a house of prayer should be like!

God, as a Man, having fun playing with His kids.

And those who stood beyond the crowd aloof and sinister?

It wasn't that He did not see them. . . These chief priests and scribes.

        Sneering angrily.

                Hissing to one another in hate drenched whispers.

                        Gathering the courage and numbers to confront Him.

        Of course, He saw them.

They were, indeed, quite practiced at being seen.

Finally, propriety and piety demanded that they push their way toward Him.

He simply chose to ignore them, at least on the outside.

How indignant they are. He thought sadly, They are always so very indignant when Father is so very happy.

Their angry, staccato speech cracked over the crowd, "Do you hear what these are saying?"

Accusation scraped like a sword being drawn from it's scabbard.

For a long moment, Jesus waited.

Un-rushed and wistful, He mused, The sound of celebrating children, and grateful hearts is heavenly - so clean and pure. Oh, how sweet It is to be reminded of home.

Then with a sigh, His eyes lifted.

He locked the leader with His gaze, and willed a blazing ray of love to shine into the dark, icy soul.

As the priest reeled at this unexpected response, Jesus spoke - His voice resonant and clear. They had asked him if He had heard. . .

"Yes."

One word.

A hush answered His response.

Another long moment weighed ominously.

Then with an unexpected smile that lit up the courtyard, He motioned, upturned hands pointing to all the people, and. . .

He laughed.

A hearty, genuine, belly laugh made of God's pleasure, hope unleashed, and promises kept.

Laughter that in ages past - happier times - had echoed throughout heaven's temple and now in faith saturated it's coarse copy here on earth.

Pulling a wide-eyed child close, He effortlessly continued,"Have you not read. . ."

        Anticipation ruled.

                People scarcely breathed.

"'Out of the mouths of babes and nursing infants You have perfected Praise'?"

        Then He left them. . .

Turned on His heal and strode out of the courtyard and into the busy street.

Nodding reflectively to Himself, He whispered His paraphrase of the sacred psalm again, "Out of the mouths of babes and nursing infants You have perfected praise. Yes, Father, I have seen it Myself again and again, and this day especially. Thank You that through these little ones You even ordained strength, because of Your enemies."

How he loved David's psalms.

His step lighter, and His gaze heavenward, He made His way to Bethany.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Psalm 8:2 exalts,

Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have ordained strength, Because of Your enemies, That You may silence the enemy and the avenger.

Jesus put an interesting twist on this Scripture from the Psalms.

In response to the angry chief priests and scribes, He challenged them with a paraphrase that has always caught my attention.

King David had written,

Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have ordained strength

Jesus boldly declared,

Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have perfected praise

Jesus, the Living Word of God, replaced the words "ordained strength" with "perfected praise".

He declared this even as the echos of the children's praises resonated in the temple courtyard's air and the chief priests' burning ears.

"Hosanna to the Son of David!"

"Hosanna to the Son of David!"

Over and over again.

Jubilently, they had sung the recognition of His Messiahship.

Children did this in the faces of the very ones who plotted the murder of the One praised.

Children did this in the faces of the very ones who swore to avenge Jesus' attacks against their hypocrisies and abuses of power.

Children did this in the faces of the very ones who had made themselves enemies of God.

As these children - these babes - did this...

God's enemies - these evil avengers - were SILENCED.

Then Jesus left them seething and speechless!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lord, may our praises be perfected as we joyfully celebrate who You are.

May we abandon ourselves to loving You like innocent, trusting children.

As we do this in simplicity of heart, Lord, do what only You can do, and "ordain strength".

Take our praises and transform them into offensive weapons against Your enemies.

Silence the proud tongues of Your enemies with our child like praises.

We are a people who - old and young alike - know that before You, Ancient of Days, we are but babes and nursing infants.

We cast ourselves in absolute dependance upon You and rejoice in our helpless estate.

Indeed, we praise You!

Amen.

Thank you Gabi and Forrest for making us feel so welcome, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY Gabi :)

Kaeli sang 15 songs in two sets and sounded lovely as always!

Several times she gave me chill bumps, as she sang with emotion.

I wrapped it up with "I Believe You Do", and then we had us a good ol' fashioned jam with Forrest rockin' out with power chords, and Rachel strumming away on acoustic guitar...  some blues, some rock, some praise tunes, and all FUN!

Having my beautiful family there was precious.

Seeing my Mama's beautful face as she enjoyed the show, is something I will never forget.

It was truly a GREAT time for all present!

Praise God!!!

The folks at Oasis of Grace Foursquare were so supportive and loving!

Monday night was a beautiful experience as well!

Michelle and I are so proud of how Kaeli Anne ministered :)

A big thanks to Dave Tackett, my incredible inlaws Ken and Roberta Wilder, and the precious believers at Oasis of Grace!!!

Hopefully next time we can see Pastors Chris and Deedee :D

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO TOUGHER THAN HELL

My Grandpa Ivan was a "man's man". He was an outdoorsman whose skills in hunting and fishing were unmatched among his peers.


What he lacked in stature, he made up for in grit.


Unafraid to go to blows with any man, he was proud and wiry strong.

My uncle summed him up in a thick, resonant voice - a voice like his father's, "Boy, your grandpa was tougher than hell."


I knew then and know now that in the world of men where grandpa walked, this was how he was viewed.

As lung cancer (he was a lifelong smoker) cruelly sapped the life from him, he made peace with his Saviour.


In the end through the grace of God, he really was "tougher than hell".


He went to be with the Lord in his fifties.

With his favorite song, "Amen Jesus", playing in his heart, he crossed over to the wilds of heaven.

I was a preteen then.


Disillusioned with my grandpa's death, I thought God had turned His back on us.


Not long after, I turned my back on God... But that is another story.

To be "tougher than hell"?

I wanted it then.

You know what?

I want it now, though I understand it a little differently than I used to.


In truth, there is only one man in all of history who really was "tougher than hell".


The Scriptures tell us that Jesus having disarmed principalities and powers, made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them (Col. 2:15).


Furthermore, during His earthly walk, He suffered every temptation known to man and never gave in.


That is pretty "tough".


Then He chose to die in our place, taking on the sin of all of us and enduring the cross, all it's shame and horror, because He loved us.


That is, mathematically, "toughness" to the infinite power.


He defeated hell.


He was and is "tougher than hell", and His scars and what is written in Scripture faithfully attest to this fact.

Here is the cool part...


Now, through Him - His strength and authority graciously imparted to us - we too can become participants in this truth.


Matthew 16:18 says, "...I (Jesus) will build My Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."

His Church is called to walk in His victory (that's all of us who by faith call Jesus Lord).


It is His power in us that makes us "tougher than hell".

However, count on this.


True toughness, the kind that prevails over hell and its forces, often goes unrecognized by society at large.

CLICK TO LISTEN TO TOUGHER THAN HELL

It finds its source in a bona fide relationship with God, requiring personal sacrifices - sacrifices made in the secret places of our lives.


No cheering crowds... No kudos... No "atta' boys"...


Maybe not on earth, but that's okay... Heaven knows!

Are you "tougher than hell"?

You never will be without radical dependence on God.

Allow His strength, found in the secret place of relationship with Him, to be your strength and you will simply BE tougher than hell.

Sick and tired of a lifeless message without sacrifice?

There is no bloodless cross.

Go ahead... Get bloody.


Your brother,

Lance Christopher Watkins

I have stretched out and tried my hand at directing a music video, hers to be exact : )

We did the whole project on a true "shoestring", but even on a "shoestring", St. Pete's beach is AMAZING!

Please watch the video and let me know what you think!

Kaeli ANNE Moriah |