Category: Spiritual Gifts

You lead me and guide me, and in danger, you hide me.

18/5/2022

Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me. Keep me free from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge. Psalm 31:3-4

This true story comes from Derek Prince. He tells it in his teaching, 'Immersed in the Holy Spirit.'

We had some friends, two Russian Jewesses, who escaped from Soviet Russia in the most fantastic way. They were also converted in an incredible way in the middle of World War II.

These two girls had been brought up as atheists. They found they had nothing to live for, no meaning in life, and planned to commit suicide by throwing themselves in the river.

A Baptist pastor from Leningrad was directed by the Holy Spirit to go to their home one evening. He didn't know them, and he didn't know who lived at the house, but he knocked on the door in obedience to God. When the girls let him in, he asked, 'What are you going to do?'

The girls were astonished! They were about to commit suicide and had told nobody of their plan. They were so amazed that somebody would come and ask them what they were going to do that evening that they began to talk to him. They spent the whole night talking to the pastor. None of them went to bed. By the morning, the two girls were believers in Jesus Christ.

When they went back to the aeroplane factory where they worked, people kept asking them, 'What's happened to you? Have you come into money? What's happened!' Their faces looked so different!

These two girls began to witness boldly and tell people the good news about Jesus Christ. They knew they would eventually be arrested if they remained in Russia and became determined to escape. It seemed impossible to escape from a communist country, but they knew God was leading them.

They boarded a train that went westwards to the Polish border. At the border, the train was stopped. Everybody on board was compelled to get out, and the train was searched from end to end. But these two girls stayed seated on the train. The Russian soldiers came through the train with flashlights, searching every carriage. When the soldiers reached the carriage where these two girls sat, the girls prayed, 'Lord, make them blind.'

The soldiers shone their flashlights right over them and walked straight past. The soldiers never saw them!

As those two girls sat in that carriage, they were surrounded by a supernatural presence that the guards couldn't see through, and the flashlights couldn't shine through. God protected them!

It would take a long time to tell the whole story of their journey, but they eventually reached Israel. They arrived in the middle of the siege of Jerusalem in 1948 and were without food or money.

Unsure of what they should do, they prayed, and the Lord spoke to them audibly and said, 'Go to the house of Mr Prince.'

They didn't know me, and they didn't know if I existed, but they inquired and found their way to my home. My wife met them at the door. These girls didn't speak much English or Hebrew, so it was challenging to communicate with them. But they had a Russian New Testament, so my wife sat down with an English New Testament and found all the places that spoke about the baptism of the Holy Spirit. They found the passages in the Russian New Testament.

They returned the following Wednesday, and my wife and I prayed with them from ten o'clock to four o'clock in the afternoon. The Holy Spirit fell on the younger girl, and she had an experience I've never seen equalled anywhere else. As tears streamed from her eyes, she began to worship the Lord and sing in an unknown tongue. It was not like a human voice at all! It was like a wind instrument that was being played by the Holy Spirit. She was singing something that reminded me of the music of Bach. It was beautiful!

These two girls became our friends, and we remained in contact with them for many years.

This too is in His hands

10/10/2019

But there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries.
He has shown...what will happen in days to come. Daniel 2:28

Sometimes God pre-warns to prepare us for difficult times. Corrie ten Boom, her sister Betsie, and other members of her family, hid Jewish people in their house in the Netherlands throughout World War II. God gave Corrie the same vision twice about what was to happen in the near future. It gave Corrie and Betsie courage to know that all their circumstances were in God's hands - no matter how difficult they might be. And circumstances were incredibly difficult for a while. Corrie and Betsie ended up in a German concentration camp. But throughout that time they experienced the faithfulness of God. The following extracts are from 'The Hiding Place' by Corrie ten Boom.

The First Vision

Betsie and I knelt down by the piano bench. For what seemed hours we prayed for our country, for the dead and injured tonight, for the Queen. And then, incredibly, Betsie began to pray for the Germans, up there in the planes, caught in the fist of the giant evil loose in Germany. I looked at my sister kneeling beside me in the light of burning Holland. "Oh Lord," I whispered, "listen to Betsie, not me, because I cannot pray for those men at all."

And it was then that I had the dream. It couldn't have been a real dream because I was not asleep. But a scene was suddenly and unreasonably in my mind. I saw the Grote Markt, half a block away, as clearly as though I were standing there, saw the town hall and St. Bavo's and the fish mart with its stair-stepped façade.

Then as I watched, a kind of odd, old farm wagon - old fashioned and out of place in the middle of a city - came lumbering across the square pulled by four enormous black horses. To my surprise I saw that I myself was sitting in the wagon. And Father too! And Betsie! There were many others, some strangers, some friends. I recognized Pickwick and Toos, Willem and young Peter. All together we were slowly being drawn across the square behind those horses. We couldn't get off the wagon, that was the terrible thing. It was taking us away - far away, I felt - but we didn't want to go...

"Betsie!" I cried, jumping up, pressing my hands to my eyes. "Betsie, I've had such an awful dream!"

I felt her arm around my shoulder. "We'll go down to the kitchen where the light won't show, and we'll make a pot of coffee."

The booming of bombs was less frequent and farther away as Betsie put on the water. Closer by was the wail of fire alarms and the beep of the hose trucks. Over coffee, standing at the stove, I told Betsie what I had seen.

"Am I imagining things because I'm frightened? But it wasn't like that! It was real. Oh Betsie, was it a kind of vision?"

Betsie's finger traced a pattern on the wooden sink worn smooth by generations of ten Booms. "I don't know," she said softly. "But if God has shown us bad times ahead, it's enough for me that He knows about them. That's why He sometimes shows us things, you know - to tell us that this too is in His hands."

The Second Vision

A prayer was forming in my heart.

"Lord Jesus, I offer myself for Your people. In any way. Any place. Any time."

And then an extraordinary thing happened.

Even as I prayed, that waking dream passed again before my eyes. I saw again those four black horses and the Grote Markt. As I had on the night of the invasion I scanned the passengers drawn so unwillingly behind them. Father, Betsie, Willem, myself - leaving Haarlem, leaving all that was sure and safe - going where?

Taken Away

In the Smedestraat a wall of people pressed against police barricades set across the street. As Betsie and I stepped out with Father between us, a murmur of horror greeted the sight of "Haarlem's Grand Old Man" being led to prison. In front of the door stood a green city bus with soldiers occupying the rear seats. People were climbing aboard while friends and relatives in the crowd wept or simply stared. Betsie and I gripped Father's arms to start down the steps. Then we froze. Stumbling past us between two soldiers, hatless and coatless, came Pickwick. The top of his bald head was a welter of bruises, dried blood clung to the stubble on his chin. He did not look up as he was hauled onto the bus.

Father, Betsie, and I squeezed into a double seat near the front. Through the window I caught a glimpse of Tine standing in the crowd. It was one of those radiant winter days when the air seemed to shimmer with light. The bus shuddered and started up. Police cleared a path and we inched forward. I gazed hungrily out the window, holding onto Haarlem with my eyes. Now we were crossing the Grote Markt, the walls of the great cathedral glowing a thousand shades of grey in the crystal light. In a strange way it seemed to me that I had lived through this moment before.

Then I recalled.

The vision. The night of the invasion. I had seen it all. Willem, Nollie, Pickwick, Peter - all of us here - drawn against our wills across this square. It had been in the dream - all of us leaving Haarlem, unable to turn back. Going where?

The Spirit makes intercession

8/10/2019

The Spirit makes intercession according to the will of God.
Romans 8:27

In the late 1960s, on Pentecost Sunday, about fifty people gathered together for an informal Bible study in East Bluff, California. The meeting was led by Pastor Chuck Smith. After the study, he said to the people, ‘You know this is Pentecost Sunday, the Sunday that we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the church.’

Because it was Pentecost Sunday, the congregation decided to spend time worshipping God.

A lady called Lynn was present that day who had been given a remarkable gift of tongues from God. Whenever she spoke in tongues, she spoke in French, although she had no knowledge of this language in her natural mind. It was the Holy Spirit who gave her this ability.

As the people worshipped God, Lynn began to speak in the French tongue, which remained an unknown language to her. Chuck understood enough French to realise Lynn was giving thanks to God for a beautiful song. But because he could intellectually understand some of the words, he did not endeavour to interpret what was being spoken. He thought he might mess it up and did not want to presume that his own interpretation would be correct.

However, his wife Kay, who did not understand any French at all, began to interpret. She thanked God aloud for the beautiful new song he had put in her heart which was her love song to Him. She spoke of the joy and the blessing of singing about her love for Him. Before Kay became a Christian, she had been a nightclub singer. She possessed a beautiful voice. It was significant that she was rejoicing in a new song that God had given to her — a song of praise and love unto him.

After the meeting, a man from Palm Springs introduced his girlfriend to Chuck Smith. She was having some problems and needed some help.

As they sat down to counsel, the girl said, ‘Before we start talking about the things that I need to talk to you about, I am curious as to what was going on here tonight at the end. Tell me about the woman who spoke to the group in French and the other woman who translated for the group.’

‘Would you believe that neither of those women knows French?’ Chuck said.

The girl answered, ‘No, I would not.’

‘Well, it is true. Neither of them knows French.’ Chuck opened his Bible. ‘What you saw was what Paul talked about in the book of Corinthians, where one speaks in an unknown tongue, and another interprets.’

‘Well, I lived for five years in Paris,’ the girl said. ‘The first lady was speaking the most beautiful French. But it was not just the common French. She was using an aristocratic pronunciation. And the other lady translated it perfectly.’

Chuck responded, ‘Well, I know that the lady who translated does not know French. That lady is my wife!’

The girl was amazed when she heard this. ‘Well, before we go any further, I have to receive the Lord.’

Chuck prayed with the girl and, with great joy, helped lead her to faith in Jesus Christ.

On another occasion, Chuck, Kay and their family were preparing to attend a youth camp in Williams, Arizona. Their daughter Jan was going to be a girls' counsellor at that camp.

One Sunday night at church, the congregation gathered around the Smith family. The people laid hands on them and prayed that God would be with them and use them to minister to the young people in Arizona.

Throughout this time of prayer, the same woman called Lynn placed her hands on Jan and began to pray in tongues. She again spoke in French, and because it was an unknown language to her, Lynn did not understand the meaning of the words she prayed aloud. Jan, on the other hand, could understand every word. She had studied five years of French at college and was quite fluent in the language.

Lynn prayed that God would help Jan to be a very beautiful witness to these young girls. She prayed that God's love would pour forth from Jan and make her a great blessing. And she prayed that the impressions these girls received would be lifelong as a result of Jan's ministry to them.

Afterwards, Jan said, 'I felt sort of trembling all over because I realised that this is what the Holy Spirit was praying for me.' She realised that Lynn did not know what she was praying because she was praying in what was an unknown language to her. 'What a thrill to realise this is what the Holy Spirit is praying for me - interceding for me. It is glorious to know this is the Lord's desire and prayer for me.'

As the apostle Paul said in Romans 8:27, 'The Spirit makes intercession according to the will of God.'

Adapted from a sermon by Chuck Smith.

Prayer offered in faith will heal the sick

4/7/2017

Are any of you sick? You should call for the elders of the church to come and pray over you, anointing you with oil in the name of the Lord. Such a prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make you well. And if you have committed any sins, you will be forgiven. (James 5:14-15)

My father told me about a healing miracle that occurred back in the mid-seventies before I was born. Back then, my father was pastor of a Baptist Church in Broken Hill, a remote mining town in New South Wales.

A local church deacon approached him and asked if he could visit relatives who were in need. This man’s cousin Ernest (known as ‘Knocker’) suffered from terminal bowel cancer.

Knocker was skin and bones, a shadow of a man when my father met him for the first time. Shortly after the first visit, Knocker was hospitalised for palliative care. Cancer, in its last stages, riddled this man’s body and four-hourly morphine injections were injected to manage severe pain. He also needed a colonoscopy bag.

My father continued to visit from time to time, and eventually, through these pastoral visits, Knocker and his wife Stella both came to faith in Jesus Christ.

One day, the hospital called and asked my father to come immediately. They believed Knocker would die within the next few hours. My father scurried around, but Knocker didn’t die that day. Somehow, he managed to hold on.

A second call came a few days later. ‘Knocker only has hours to live,’ said the hospital. But, again, Knocker rallied through. Everyone expected his imminent death. Throughout this time, my father sat at home reading his Bible and stumbled upon a verse in the New Testament book of James:

“Are any of you sick? You should call for the elders of the church to come and pray over you, anointing you with oil in the name of the Lord. Such a prayer offered in faith will heal the sick, and the Lord will make you well. And if you have committed any sins, you will be forgiven.” (James 5:14-15).

In four years of attendance at theological college, divine healing had never been discussed, but as my father read the Bible that day, scales fell from his eyes. He shared the scripture from the book of James with Knocker. He told him to read it through and, if he agreed, they would do exactly what the scriptures suggested. Knocker agreed.

The following Sunday morning, before the nine o’clock service, my father and an elder from the church went to the hospital. Knocker’s skeletal body was weak and close to death.

The men gathered together in that hospital room and followed the passage in the book of James to the letter. My father and the church elder anointed Knocker with oil and spoke prayers of faith to God. Knocker confessed all known sin aloud in their presence.

Nothing happened immediately, but having done everything according to the Scripture, my father and the elder left the hospital and went to the nine o’clock church service.

Stella, Knocker’s wife, attended the church that morning. She was baptised in water, not only for herself but also for Knocker. It was a ‘baptism by proxy’. He desired to be baptised but was far too ill to be moved from his hospital bed.

Not long afterwards, a doctor from the hospital (who attended the local church) passed on the news: Knocker was healed! All traces of cancer had vanished from his body. My dad was amazed. The whole church was amazed. Knocker and Stella were both amazed.

The doctor described how all the medical staff in the hospital were amazed too. The talk of 'a miracle' was on everyone’s lips. The sudden healing of a cancer patient on their deathbed was an incredible phenomenon.

My parents moved away from Broken Hill several months after this miracle occurred and lost touch with Knocker and his wife. But seven years later, out-of-the-blue, Stella tracked down my parents and called them on the phone. She said Knocker had recently died, but God had been gracious and had granted him seven extra years of life. For that, she was grateful.

It's All About Him

2/7/2017

JESU JUVA

When I was seventeen, my pastor at church asked me to be part of the worship team.

'I won't do it,' I said. I crossed my arms and shook my head. 'I can't do it.'

'Yes, you can,' said Peter, my pastor.

'I can't.'

'God's anointed you to do this.'

'But,' I said, taking a breath, 'I'm not good enough.'

'Start with what you have. It's the only way to grow.'

Our local church met in an old, rented building. There was nothing special to say about the building itself, except that it was a place for people to meet and worship Jesus. That is what made it special, very special. I'd discovered God in this room, as had many others. Inside these crumbling paint-peeling walls, I'd experienced the reality of the Holy Spirit's power. He'd given me hope and joy inside my heart.

But fear of standing in front of a crowd, especially in a musical fashion, remained a Goliath in my life.

I stared down at caramel tinted, stain-blotched carpet. 'But I only know a handful of chords,' I replied.

Peter rested his hands on his tummy and started jigging his right leg - a habit I'd observed before. He's becoming impatient, I thought.

'God's called you to do this,' he said. 'When God calls, you need to obey.'

He was right, of course. But I wasn't ready to admit it verbally - yet. Stubbornness dug its heels into my thoughts while I remained mute.

Peter watched me intently through spectacled eyes as the wall of silence between us grew stronger. My willpower fought to make the right decision. A sigh finally erupted past my lips, and I whispered, 'Okay.'

The following Sunday, I stood before a congregation crammed with straggly beards, tattoos and arms lifted in worship to God. Many of the people in the congregation were first-time Christians – straight off the streets and drugs. Gratefulness towards a saviour who radically saves filled their hearts.

I glanced at the keys of white and ebony resting beneath my quivering fingers. The band struck the first chord.

My Jesus, My Saviour,
Lord, there is none like you.

I should have been looking at my Saviour, but instead, I kept an eye on my fingers and an eye on my pride. I lost my way; I even turned my volume down so nobody could hear my pitiful attempts. The guitars were loud, and nobody seemed to notice. I looked across the room and inhaled deeply. Garments of praise – shining and coloured with joy – rested upon every individual present. I realised I needed to get my gaze off myself and learn to worship like them, but my focus stayed fixed. I chewed my lip, cast my sights downward and played a silent keyboard. I didn't know how to be bold.

***

When I was twenty-seven, I worked for a Christian healing ministry on the outskirts of Sydney. The kitchen was my domain, and I prepared food for every meal. On this day, however, I was asked to lead worship the following week.

'I don't want to do it,' I said with a frown. 'I'm not good enough.' While I spoke, I chopped a dozen carrots or more with a gigantic knife.

'Yes, you can,' said Paul, one of the leaders of this ministry.

I shook my head and murmured, 'I can't.' Tears crawled to the surface, and I swallowed in an attempt to push them down.

'There's no one else available. No one. You're the only one who can lead the worship this weekend.'

Paul sipped from a mug and leaned against a metallic kitchen bench.

'No, I can't.' I swallowed again, but it was already too late: the tears made their escape and trickled down my cheeks. I released the knife in my hand and heard it clang against the silver surface of the kitchen bench.

'You won't be alone. Naomi will sing with you; Simon will play the drums.'

'No.' My willpower raged into battle once again.

'We've all heard you worshipping, Sal. You think nobody is listening, but we hear. We know you have the ability.' Pastoral compassion etched Paul's face.

Tears dripped down my chin as I picked up the knife and hacked a carrot.

'Okay,' I finally muttered.

The following Friday evening, I stood before a crowd packed with nervous faces. Some eyes looked sad, and others fearful. These people were present for a healing weekend. They longed for Jesus to meet their needs and heal their souls.

My sweaty palms hovered in readiness; the microphone stood to attention, ready for my command. With a thumping heart, I glanced at my team, bobbed my head and put my foot to the pedal.

Jesus, Jesus,
Holy and Anointed One.

Fractured souls fixed their sights upon Him as the music flowed and ebbed into a gentle stream. But I lost focus and kept my eyes on myself. I'd set perfection – my perfection - as the goal, and my skill lacked polish. Nerves overtook my ability to play and sing well. I left the conference hall and collapsed onto my bed with exhaustion coursing through every vein. I vowed I would never lead worship again.

  ***

When I was twenty-eight, I was a student at a Christian ministry healing course in England.

'Come to the front if you'd like a fresh touch from the Holy Spirit,' said Joe, a Bible teacher from the north of England.

A blood-red banner stretched behind him, declaring in gold letters, 'Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.'

Joe's wrinkled and goateed face glowed with internal fire as he gazed at twenty-nine students gathered from every corner of the Earth.

Hungry souls surged forward, raised arms and tilted chins towards heaven. Soft melodies of a chorus were sung but faded into the background as hushed stillness poured inside the high-beamed room. I squeezed my eyes shut and held open arms in surrender to Jesus. My body gently swayed to a worship tune still playing inside my head.

My right hand twitched as someone's finger, dipped in oil, drew an invisible cross over my palm. I peeked through half-open eyelids and saw Joe moving his lips in silent prayer. He anointed my left hand and leaned closer to speak soft words. 'God is going to put a ministry into your hands. It's going to be very soon.'

Joe walked away, but I lingered in the room pervaded with a serene atmosphere.

'I surrender to you,' I said to Jesus. 'I accept whatever ministry you call me to.'

A week or so later, I was asked to lead worship once a week. Desire moved my heart, and I said, 'Yes, I would love to!' No reserve, no hesitation, and no terror. It was the first time I noticed a change.

The following Thursday morning, I sat in the corner of the same high-beamed room with poised hands at the keyboard and whispered a prayer under my breath. Grey winter mists hovered outside old-fashioned metal-laced windows while artificial golden light covered the inside of the room.

Astonishment soared inside my heart as I realised that a flicker of nervousness was all I felt. Paralysing timidity was gone, and calm boldness remained in its place.

'I've called you to this.' The words echoed through my spirit as we opened our mouths and started to sing:

It's all about You, Jesus
And all this is for You
For Your glory and your fame
It's not about me
As if You should do things my way
You alone are God
And I surrender to your ways

Mistakes were frequent, but nobody noticed, and I forgot about myself. My amplified voice blended with the voices of everyone present. Warm electricity streamed through my hands and wrists as I played. The music crescendoed, lifted by the presence of one Holy invisible person. Without any effort on my part - except through complete surrender to His ways - the Spirit dispelled fear and baptised me with His courage.

At that moment, I learnt a powerful secret about why I worship: It's all about Jesus. It's never about me.



SOLI DEO GLORIA

Shine like Stars

Encouraging children of God to shine like stars in dark times.

Philippians 2:14-16
Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.

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You lead me and guide me, and in danger, you hide me.

This too is in His hands

The Spirit makes intercession

Prayer offered in faith will heal the sick

It's All About Him

Shine like Stars

Subscribe to the newsletter!

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​You lead me and guide me, and in danger, you hide me.

This too is in His hands

The Spirit makes intercession

Prayer offered in faith will heal the sick

It's All About Him

Shine like Stars

Subscribe to the newsletter!

Archives

Categories

You lead me and guide me, and in danger, you hide me.