tes·ti·mo·ny

“and they overcame him by the blood of the lamb and the word of their testimony..” revelation 12:11

the word of their testimony.

/ˈtestəˌmōnē/

noun

a formal written or spoken statement, especially one given in a court of law.

Similar: evidence, sworn statement, attestation, affidavit, statement, declaration

_______________________________________

it was now a week since mom died. she was processing details, experiencing waves of grief, sudden bursts of tears. but there was more. there was her testimony. it was undeniably jesus.

years earlier, she had prayed for her mother to finish what she had been given to do in the earth. father god assured her then it would be so.

their relationship was never easy. some was due to freemasonry curses, some due to other influences both natural and spiritual.

as she grew in the truth of her relationship with father, jesus and holy spirit, she shared pearls with her mother. it often resulted in negative responses, but the truth of the testimonies could not be ignored or denied. every religious demon screamed when she shared, but she shared anyway.

she and all of her household would be saved. period. it meant persecution, mocking and ridicule from the whole family over decades, even now as mom lay dying.

but it could not, would not change the outcome. each of them would know his kindness, his goodness that would lead them to repentance.

_______________________________________

her last visit with mom was several months earlier. holy spirit showed her the end was coming soon. she picked up fried chicken along with a couple other favorite items and took them to the nursing home.

over 3 hours or so, they watched a cooking show as they talked. then holy spirit nudged her. she paused, looking at her mother sitting in the recliner to her right. she took a breath, opened her mouth and the words came out.

“part of why I came today is to have this conversation with you. you know that we are not saved by infant baptism, right?”

“i know,” was mom’s quiet response.

she continued. “do you remember that prayer that I gave you and lyle (her stepfather) before he died? when he was in the hospital, i came to visit. while i was next to his bed holding his hand, he got tears in his eyes and said, “i read your letter.”

he was telling me he had asked jesus to be his lord and savior, that he had received forgiveness. he wanted me to know.”

mom was quiet for a moment, then said, “i saw angels come to get him when he died.” it wasn’t the first time she’d shared that information. mom knew there was more than what she had been taught. she had heard the testimonies her oldest child shared. they were undeniable.

“mom, would you like to pray with me while I’m here?”

“no.” the answer came quickly, too quickly.

some religious demon was interfering. no surprise. it wasn’t the first time.

instead of being offended, she treated it lightly.

“okay, but if you’re not in heaven when I get there, i’m going to be really pissed off. don’t mess this up,” she laughed. those words would not fall to the ground.

here they were, months later, with very different circumstances. mom had made up her mind she was done living here. she stopped eating, stopped taking her meds. she quit. the decline was rapid, and without the meds, she had a stroke. it marked the beginning of the end of her life on earth.

the condition of her body was shocking, yes, but her spirit and soul were very much alive and attentive. it was wednesday evening, just hours after the stroke occurred. her left side was gone, she could not swallow. responses were limited to squeezing hands for yes or no questions.

she quickly decided to take thursday off work in addition to the already scheduled day off on friday. the next few days would be spent with siblings and nieces.

she knew she needed precious time alone with her mother. she asked father god for it, and he made it happen. thursday morning, she had an hour or so alone. she sat with mom, one right hand clutching the other. as their hands gripped each other, holy spirit showed her he was restoring the bonding that never occurred when she was an infant. tears came. healing tears.

later in the day, she leaned in and picked her mother’s fragile body up so her sister-in-law could adjust the pillow. as she laid her back down on the bed, she saw tears form in her mother’s left eye. was it from the hug? was it from getting human touch again after being without for so long?

perhaps. she knew it was deep. and powerful.

_______________________________________

friday morning came. she arose early, prayed and worshiped at home and in the car on her way to the nursing home. holy spirit prompted her to play laura rhinehart’s song, “come to the well,” on repeat, to stay in that place. it was an invitation to drink in holy spirit, to be filled.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kd8vdHSjjH4

she arrived and walked to mom’s room, closing the door for privacy. turning the song on again, she sat holding her hand, praying in tongues over the woman who gave her life.

she spoke with her, recounting memories, recounting hard things, things that sought to make them enemies of each other. the devil was still a liar. he would not have the last word here.

tears flowed. then, as the song began again, she sang with it, singing over her mother lying before her. walls came down at the expansion of his love flowing into her spirit and soul. it was time.

“mom, this is a simple thing. jesus already died for all your sin. it is finished. all you need to do is an exchange here, your heart for his. you receive what he did for you. it’s easy. and he wants it even more than you do. you are his daughter.”

she continued to pray even as heaving sobs came forth. the warfare was heavy in that place, but angels were present protecting them both. after some time, peace settled upon them and father god spoke. “her salvation is secure.”

more tears flowed, tears of gratitude, tears of honor, tears of love, tears of grief. even tears of joy in such a very hard place.

it was finished.

_______________________________________

this testimony would speak to many.

many would come to jesus through it.

testimony is born out of relationship, out of love, out of his kindness and goodness.

the testimony had already spoken at work. it spoke at the grocery store.

each person hearing the testimony was visibly moved.

holy spirit showed her the sheer power it held, the weightiness of it.

it would not return to father god void, but it would return to him in full manifestation of what it was sent to do.

mom’s salvation would speak.

and her whole household would be saved.

_______________________________________

testimony is evidence, a sworn affidavit.

jesus is undeniable truth.

give your testimony wherever you can.

it speaks.

like enoch had

she spent mother’s day alone, but not really.

a week earlier, she’d needed a road trip and her son’s home was the destination. the car was her prayer closet. she needed that space and some miles alone with holy spirit.

on the way, she stopped at the grocery store and bought organic lettuce and uncured summer sausage, some for her and some for her son. when she arrived, she knew it was only a quick visit. he was busy working on four-wheelers and had made it clear he did not have time for conversation.

he was surprised at the food gifts and thanked her. hoping for time together, she reminded him the next sunday was mother’s day. his expression was a mixture of ‘oh, shit’ and ‘i’m not changing my plans.’ he had a baby shower to attend that day.

as she locked eyes with him, the words were right there, just waiting to be spoken. she wanted to gently explain to her son that if he wanted a wife, he best learn to treat his mother honorably. if he didn’t make space for momma, he was not making space for a wife.

instead, she looked at him with a smile, caught the words before they left her mouth, and told him she would share those thoughts another time. timing really is everything. and he knew without her saying a word. he had to make different choices for the outcomes he wanted. she would continue to pray for him.

back to mother’s day. the day had been peaceful and quiet. she’s done a few things around the house and picked up some groceries. it was late afternoon. the weather was cool, great for walking. she’d had early dinner and felt restless. “father, can I go for a walk?” he answered immediately, “yes, you can.” hmm. there was a plan.

she dressed and headed out around the lake. when she was about two thirds of the way around, she saw a large bird flying into the the area, then soaring over the water. was it a hawk or an eagle? she looked for the white head on the bird while it scanned the water for fish. its’ prey targeted, the raptor swooped down and snatched it out of the water. it flew closer to her and she saw it was an eagle, just a young one whose head wasn’t white yet. father was speaking to her, affirming her. much of their communication was silent; it was a knowing.

she continued around the lake, thankful for that encounter. as she approached her building, she stopped to listen to a bird sing in a bush. out of the blue, she thought of enoch and looked up. “you know, sometimes i wish you’d just jack me out of here like you did enoch.” to her surprise, enoch appeared on her left and father spoke. “enoch will be your guide this next leg of the journey.” she said, “okay.” what else was there to say? this was a huge honor. and an old request granted..

the backstory begins here:

time travel back to the early 2000’s, say 2003, to the time she was learning to walk with father, jesus and holy spirit.

she had pressed in until she had her heavenly prayer language, speaking in other tongues. prayer was important, especially tongues. the enemy cannot translate it. it’s a highly effective weapon.

several times a week, she would drive into the small town nearby to walk the high school track to pray and worship. no doubt the neighbors heard the tongues and her singing at the top of her voice.

on this particular saturday morning, she was praying and singing ‘irresistible,’ by darlene zschech. it was the same song she’d sung out over the hills of samaria only months earlier in israel.

during that period of time, enoch was the topic of study. she was fascinated by him, his knowledge, the relationship and intimacy he and father god shared. as she walked that humid morning, she came around the west side of the track and stopped. she looked up and took a breath. with both confidence and trepidation, she told her father what she wanted.

“i want a walk with you like enoch had.” the gravity of her request immediately shifted the atmosphere of the cosmos. as she awaited his response, she heard the holy hush. the weightiness of her words was palpable.

all activity ceased. angels, the cloud of witnesses and every other occupant of heaven peered toward the earth to see who would dare make such an ask.

she continued to wait, her feet stuck in place on the asphalt track. finally, he answered her, his voice tender and gentle: “that will take a lifetime to walk out, child.”

_____________________________

the request she made decades earlier was not forgotten.

enoch is her guide for this leg of the journey.

p.s. thank you for encouraging me to get back to the keyboard. heaven sent you.

shouting into the wind

they drove to the coast for the day. she had some props to stage and photograph for a piece she was writing. she invited him along for company, for help and because she loved him.

it wasn’t a good weather day at the beach. the temperature was cold and the sky was overcast. the wind blew hard. after parking the car, they got out their cameras to explore the treasures of the beach.

it wasn’t long before he began walking the other direction, intently focused on unusual birds and adjusting camera settings. maybe today he would get perfect shots that would fix all the broken things.

she watched him go, giving him time do what he loved. it was low tide, offering them a rare opportunity to see eddies and tide pools normally hidden in high tide. the wind and the waves formed intricate designs and patterns in the sand. she took a few photos as she admired the handiwork and creativity of the one who’d made it all.

after a while she needed his help. she began calling his name as she walked toward him. to her surprise, he turned and walked the other direction, oblivious to her calls, to her existence on the beach with him. she started shouting his name hoping he would hear her voice above the wind, willing him to hear her deep calling to his.

suddenly, stark reality pierced her heart. tears and wind stung her eyes. she stopped shouting and stopped walking. she stood still in the wind watching him walk further away from her.

she realized he wouldn’t have needed to hear her if he saw her and honored her in his heart. he would have sensed her need and heard her calling him in his spirit.

but he couldn’t honor her because he didn’t honor father. and there were things blocking his vertical relationship with his abba. they were cameras, lenses, flash drives, birds, animals, all good things, yes, but they’d become idols.

the very gifts he’d been given were now stumbling blocks as he looked to them for identity and fulfillment. every day, he put them first, blocking the goodness, love and healing father wanted to pour into him.

those good things caused blindness, a tunnel vision in every part of his life. he was unable to see anyone else because he was focused on himself. similar to a funhouse mirror, the tunnel vision was destroying the very relationships he said mattered most to him.

vertical relationships with father, jesus and holy spirit must be correctly aligned for horizontal relationships with people to work.

first things first.

authority and submission

it was relatively the same conversation on a different day, this time via telephone.

he was complaining about the demons in the apartment. it was the same lot that lived there before her arrival and after she’d left. the older residents had likely invited a few new ones by now.

the latest round of harassment and victimization included an apple thrown across the kitchen, cupboard doors opening and slamming shut with a new stunt thrown into the mix. one of them had taken his laptop and chucked it on the floor when he wasn’t home. this act of destruction required a trip to the big box electronics store for repairs.

she shook her head, listening in frustration. the demons had never messed with her. when she was around they’d fled to dark corners and closets.

he went on, wallowing in self-pity about the bad things they were doing to him. it was a ploy for sympathy. of course it was. she bought it for a minute and began praying for him.

he listened as she began, “father, i’m seriously tired of listening to all the crap the enemy is doing to _______. she began to take authority over the enemy but something wasn’t right. she stopped.

she turned her attention back to him. “you know, we’ve had this conversation multiple times. you were made for so much more. you were not made to live at this level in this misery. if you would fully come into your identity in jesus, you wouldn’t have to put up with this crap.”

he said nothing in response to the truth he was hearing. he never did, never engaged in this part of his salvation. self-pity had a louder voice again this go ’round.

they finished their conversation and she went on with her day. same old story. she shook her head. it was another reminder of why they weren’t together anymore. choices and free will. sigh.

two days later, she saw a post by graham cooke on facebook. her eyes grew wide as saucers when she read it. not only did the light bulb go on, it blew up.

papa graham offered this wisdom: “process is where we discover god at work in our lives. it is where we submit to the work of his hands. process is everything. there is no growth or maturity without it.

if we do not submit to the process, the enemy will not submit to us. the process is the foundation for our obedience, which results in our authority. there is no authority outside of our submission.” (from qualities of a spiritual warrior by graham cooke)

authority courthouse — photo credit: pixabay

there it was. she knew this was spot on. there is no authority outside of our submission. she’d been through process learning obedience. she had been granted authority and father god continued to increase it. it was the reason stuff moved when she was around.

merriam-webster defines authority as 1. power to influence or command thought, opinion, or behavior, and 2. freedom granted by one in authority.

submission is defined as 1. the condition of being submissive, humble, or compliant, and 2. an act of submitting to the authority or control of another.

as she mulled over graham’s words, holy spirit added to it. “submission is also a choice to trust, to receive love, to have full on relationship with papa, jesus and me. it’s believing we have your best interests in mind always. it’s believing we are always good.

it’s submitting to being and living as the new creation that you already are. to remain locked into your former identity as a dead man only produces more death.

sure, papa’s children will go to heaven, but they will not experience the righteousness, peace and joy of our kingdom here without submission, without the process or the journey.

becoming a manifested son or daughter is a choice. you cannot rule and reign with jesus outside of embracing your son ship.”

who are you? the new man or the dead man?

what is your identity in jesus?

full exposure

it had been nearly three weeks since they’d spoken. it was the longest they’d ever gone without any communication.

she’d made the upgrade in her own identity and it caused a shift between them. in the process, the battle had intensified. father was bringing her into higher levels of rest and trust. after the first week of silence, she settled into it. it was all right.

then the direction shifted. she was still at work one day when she began to see a restaurant they frequented often in her mind. once, twice and a third time she saw it.

then came the phone call from a trusted friend. after conversation, it was clear: it was time to go back into the fray, to fight for him, to fight for them. destinies were at stake.

she texted him once. he read it and did not respond. she sent another, letting him know where she was. silence. then a text response. “what do you want?” she felt his anger.

this was not normal. “what do you mean?” she texted back. then her phone rang. “where are you?” yes. he was angry. and he had been angry for over two weeks.

after some conversation, the reason for his anger became clear. the enemy had whispered lies to him about her. he had believed the worst of her based on his experience with someone else.

the liar had worked hard to make him believe they were exactly the same. they were not. she unraveled the lie and presented the truth to him.

his face grew darker. in his anger, she could see he wanted to believe the lie over the truth. it was easier than admitting he hadn’t questioned the lying spirits with their accusing voices. pride was right there to justify his actions and misplaced anger.

she didn’t pull any punches. “you need to delineate a clear line between her actions and mine. we are not the same. i do not do what she did. if you don’t keep it separate, i’m going to get the crap beat out of me.” she meant it figuratively, but he went off.

“what do you mean? i’m going to beat you up?” she looked him in the eyes over her bowl of nachos. “no. i mean that i will get hurt.”

he sat back in his chair taking in the weight of her words. she went to the restroom. “daddy, I don’t know what to to. i need more grace and mercy over us here. help me.” she went back out to the table.

his features had softened slightly. “how do we fix this?” he asked. she shrugged her shoulders. “wipe the slate clean?” he nodded, adding, “hit the reset button?” she nodded.

nothing felt like it had been reset. the atmosphere was heavy. not only was he sitting on the other side of the table, but so were the demons who’d been tormenting him in recent months. they hung on his shoulders and whispered lies to him. she could see them and hear when they spoke through his mouth.

he didn’t have a skill set for combatting them yet. but he would. and when he knew the truth, it would make him free.

fear, rejection, poverty, infirmity, jealousy and pride. and here they were all together at dinner. no wonder it was challenging to navigate. and deep within this beautiful man was a small boy who needed healing.

they did okay when the conversation centered around what each of them had been doing for activities, how the family was, etc.

pride became impatient with the niceties and began telling her what he would and would not do, ripping on the plans father god had shown them both together.

she stayed still as long as she could, her heart racing as the liar attempted to deconstruct what father had already begun in building them together as one.

when the conversation crossed the line, she put on her coat and set her purse on the table. she stood before him, hardly believing the words he’d spoken. this clearly was not him.

the pain was in her eyes, in her words. she could see that he saw it. his own pain and woundedness was so great, all he could do was take it out on her in the moment.

she looked over at him before she walked away. shaking her head sadly, she said, “you don’t want to let the best thing you’ve got in your life walk out the door.” it was not bragging. it was arrogant. it was just true.

she left. he didn’t go after her. as she walked to the car, she made one remark to father. “i know, i know, i will believe and trust right now that what the enemy meant here for evil tonight, you will make work for our good.”

she got in the car and waited to see if he would come to stop her. he did not.

she debriefed the whole thing with wise counsel. some of this had been father’s doing. he wanted to expose things in the man that had been hidden. she had called them out and brought light into them.

exposure had occurred. the enemy had lost ground that he would never get back. checkmate.

twenty-four hours later, she was exhausted from the skirmish, unfriended and exiled. these were but temporary conditions. she declared victory and full restoration with a song in her heart.

light always exposes the darkness.

galvanized heart

the battles are intense at times.

sometimes jesus asks her if she’s glad she came back from the dead the second time. the first time, she had no choice, but the second time offered the choice of going on to heaven or returning to earth to finish her assignments.

she answers his question each time, thoughtfully and honestly. he laughed at her response one day as she rolled her eyes and said, “maybe not so much today.”

other days, he didn’t have to ask, her joy was apparent. occasionally, her answer didn’t come in words, only tears.

in her innocence, she imagined smooth sailing after making the decision to return to earth and finish what father had given her to do. smooth sailing never came. it did, in fact, get worse. quickly.

the enemy knew where to strike, where she was vulnerable. 3 car crashes weren’t enough; there would be 2 more. the physical injuries were nothing compared to the emotional trauma.

the job layoff came. another house was lost. friends betrayed her. the list of ugly happenings grew.

she thought father was mad at her for a minute. he was not.

the enemy, however, was determined to make her believe father did not love her.

she was in the fire, her own prayers answered a little each day. it was not because father was doing things to her, but because of his work on her heart through the bad things.

it was suffering. in it, she was learning father’s character, faithfulness, love, goodness.

when the man she grew to love came into her life, all hell broke loose again. she paused, retracing her steps, wondering if she’d heard right. she had.

something deeper was at work here. it was that thing she’d asked jesus for years earlier.

she and jesus had been at the kitchen table discussing the book of john. the conversation was lively, playful, then serious.

she’d been reading about what he did and what he said about doing greater works than he did. love was the foundation from which he did everything.

she looked at him across the table and spoke.

“look, here’s the thing: if you want me to do what you did, and the greater works, then i want the same revelation of your love that john had – or greater, if there is such a thing. i can’t do this without that,” she said, waving her hand across the open book.

in asking, she really didn’t know what she would walk through in pursuit of the prize. she learned to let jesus be enough for her.

over time, father showed her she could be trusted with what was most precious to him: people.

when she stopped fighting the process, it got easier. the human ego is a beast.

she realized she had to lay down her life, all of it, so someone else could be free. even if that someone acted like an arch enemy most of the time. the price was high. she decided to pay it.

over time, the filters came off. the religion came off. the politics came off. the judgments came off. the false identity fell away.

one day, she saw it. it was a fraction of the suffering jesus endured.

she saw enough to get it. any remaining resistance melted away. it was the ‘ah ha’ moment. this was what it meant to lay down one life for another. sacrifice.

she saw the price of her own salvation, layer after layer, along with the sea of people who’d played a role in it, willing or not.

that thing she’d asked for? he gave it to her after all the mess was washed away.

he spoke. “your heart is now galvanized in my love.”

galvanization is the process of ‘adding a protective layer of coating to keep something from rusting.’

chain-88463_960_720 — photo credit: pixabay

ask for it.

their first date

he called her shortly after their meeting at the food shelf.

he was excited, enthusiastic, like a little child gifted with a new toy.

he rode his bicycle and met her in a public square close to where her clay hut was located.

she observed his gestures as he spoke.

she listened to his words, the inflection of his voice as he talked about his life.

she picked up different spirits on him. poverty. self-pity and infirmity. the dominant spirit was fear. it controlled the others.

he reminded her of the men and women papa had shown her outside the homeless shelter only days earlier. it has been a set up for this moment with him.

papa had gently asked her to look into the face of each person.

“i want you to look into their faces. look into each person’s eyes.”

“each of them had a family. each of them had hopes and dreams. not one of them ever expected to find themselves here.”

tears ran down her cheeks as she looked into each face that night.

some people engaged her, meeting her gaze with their own.

others stared back with vacant eyes.

some were drug addicts. some were alcoholics. some were mentally ill. some were plagued with all those things.

all of them were tormented and suffering.

those brief encounters with these children of papa had changed her, wrecked her for good. compassion welled up in her heart.

she listened to him talk about his experiences.

she felt his pain, his abandonment, his loss.

she heard the silent questions in his heart.

he wondered what he had done to deserve the things that happened to him.

they conversed opposite each other outside on park benches until it became too cold to endure.

they began the process of saying goodnight to each other.

she walked over to him. leaning down, she gave him a light kiss on his right cheek, kissing the scar located there just above his beard.

it was tender, gentle. a kiss from heaven.

she placed her hand on his heart and asked papa to heal it.

he said he felt something warm wash over him.

it was a tingling in his heart he had never felt before.

she knew what that feeling was. she told him papa loved him.

they made plans to get together again.

thejanedoechroniclesdotcom

Dio (God) is forte (strong) and presente (present) in every pasticcio (mess)

Tag: holy spirit

tes·ti·mo·ny

like enoch had

shouting into the wind

authority and submission

full exposure

galvanized heart

their first date

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