7.30 comes too soon

Katrina was two years old when I was born and she hated me.

Sounds like a bad beginning to a sad story but it worked out alright on my end, I grew in the dirt under open skies and the watchful eyes of my brother Jeremy and the neighborhood boys. Jeremy made me everyone’s little sister, a position I carried well. Bloody knees, bruised elbows, more hair than body (and it was always a mess), I had a will to match their boyish zeal for adventure and the few years they all had on me, and no matter how much I slowed them down he always brought me along. He was my hero.

From the start we were that close and it took me years to realize how rare our friendship was. He was my teacher, my instigator, my champion and friend, my brother and father to my absent daddy. Always pushing me further, always calling me higher. Blue eyes blazing with passion he always dared me to fly, and in his eyes I did. No really, in my dreams I never fly but I always fly in his. He gave me gasoline when I longed to burn. Poured it on and kept pouring, giving all he had to fuel the flickering desire for God. Teaching me of dreams, hearing and sight. Late nights talking, drinking from each other’s souls, gleaning from the revelation growing inside, weeping and longing, seeking and finding. Jeremy taught me that there were no limits and I gave all myself to be free.

During our internship we would tag-team pray over people, and there has never been another person that I see in the Spirit so clearly with. J and I breathe emotion. He’s fire on the inside. Confident where I was afraid and sure in my insecurities. Bursting with excitement for whatever has hooked his attention, and he gives all of himself to that thing. And he’s a nerd. Full on.

Our childhood was made of storybooks, or maybe I should say that books should be written about our childhood? Long summers running in fields, trekking to the swimming pool, making a tree house out of the bare roots of an old tree and a hillside. Scheming and playing on the top-level of a metal rocket ship at the play ground. Taking animal parades and walking the dog, bunnies and pet goose ….. all at once. Selling Kool-aide on the corner. And pestering the heck out of my sister. Katrina and I would get into long fights ALL THE TIME, and Jeremy would record them on his tape recorder, narrating the situation and who did what, then filling in the gaps with advertisements of random things he would make up or musical interludes of him playing the piano. And yes he did play them for my mom. And yes I did stage some of the fights for his cassette tapes.

J would save all of his junk, and sell them to us at his ‘Only this afternoon for an hour’ sales. And we would buy it. He could convince us to do anything.

Moving to Iowa burst open his dreamers heart. We would spend our days tramping through fields, J with a bb gun to shoot squirrels and I with a kitten in my pocket. We’d lay in the long warm grass and watch the clouds, dreaming big dreams and believe it or not he is as much of a romantic, dramatic dreamer as I am.

He first came to Kansas City during one of the most difficult seasons of my life, and I was desperate for his counsel and friendship. My nightwatch friends will understand when I say that I was one of those crazy family members who for the life of me could not remember that he SLEPT until two pm! At least twice a week I would call at noon while leaving work, and when he didn’t answer, would proceed to call his apartment phone. *God bless Nick Beaver and Trey Roach for never hurting me for those early phone calls* And he always took my calls. He would call me some nights, real late (or early) and though I almost never understood what the heck he was talking about I knew that he was burning in a way that I’d never seen, and I wanted in.

Thank you Jesus for IHOP-KC. He was my champion even during his track 1 of FITN. I’d visit and he’d keep me awake in the prayer room all night, take me to his briefings for Joanna’s worship team, and talk me through all the emotional tornado’s that I had. That’s when I met CJ. He was the “other Jeremy”, from Nebraska and talked like he’d smoked for 80 years. We hit it off right away.

Sometimes I forget that CJ was not always apart of our lives, that 4 years of history is REALLY not that much time, he was just one of us from the start. Poor CJ walked me through so much healing, and so much of the overflow of my brokeness and inability to trust. Often surprised at the intensity he was never overwhelmed by my outbursts and gently guided me through my track 1, letting me weep on his couch and wash my clothes in his basement. And together we prayed J back to KC.

Doing track two together was unbelievable. J & I were hardly apart much to my roommates annoyance,  and that time forged a deeper bond between us. It’s hard to not grow closer when you’re changing so much together. We shared a car, secrets, revelation, food, laugher and tears, and I did his laundry with mine once a week in CJ’s basement. And we shared lots of laughter about the time my superman boy shorts got left in the dryer. In CJ’s basement. That jerk still call’s me superman.

We moved here together, grew closer, grew apart, grew angry and became friends again. And we prayed Katrina here. Unbelievable gifts from the Lord.

I knew I liked Jen the first time I walked into the cafeteria at 6.45 in the morning and heard her playing the piano. With the lights off. We got along well, spent some time together, had coffee and took walks. One summer morning I left the prayer room, the birds were singing and it was gently raining one of those glorious, warm summer rains. And NO ONE would walk with me in it. But I waited until 7 when she got done playing and her eyes sparked when I asked her to walk in the rain with me. We walked Terrace Lakes over and back about 4 times that morning. In the rain. I ruined my cell phone and I found a life long friend.

I lost Jeremy when he fell in love with Jen. It was the day she fell off his roof. What were they doing on the roof? Alone? Oh you know, watching the stars…. the boy who’d once told me I was NEVER allowed to stare at the stars with boys was alone on his roof, with Jen. We’d known for awhile that he liked her, but the fear of her fall did something inside of him that I can’t explain and he was a mess for days. And I was angry. My “brothers” all tried to help, everyone gently would say “it was going to happen someday” but honestly had never thought that it would. Never had it entered my mind that we would not be heart friends, and never did I think that another woman would come between us. She moved in with Kat & I a few months later. It was hard to stay angry when I liked her so much. It was the gift of God to us that she lived with us.

They were married last May. I can hardly believe it. He wept when he saw her and she held her head high and the heavens poured down on that tiny glass chapel. Nathan and Kat cried through the whole ceremony but my face hurt from smiling so big. I watched him be a man that day, and gladly received my sister.

Tonight they had dinner with us. Dad drove in from Iowa and mom had been here since Kat’s ER scare. Through hours of food, games, tim tam slams, laughter and stories I watched them. CJ was married this last year as well and I’ve hardly seen him but he came for some hours and I loved that he was here. It was fitting to have him with my family on this night.  He and Jeremy sat side by side subject hopping, Jeremy instructing him on the game, CJ talking about Christina and their dogs and working with FITN, Jeremy randomly leaning across the table to kiss Jen’s forehead.

Tomorrow morning they move to Fredericksburg. There was a time 3 years ago when Jeremy left for 2 months of Jury duty and I was terrified. So much was happening inside and outside of me and he was my stability. I had no idea how to be me without him. That time I knew he was coming back. But here we are. There is no going back, no slowing down, no pausing. We are ever-moving forward toward the one thing that drives us, filling our nights with dreams and our days with hunger, the return of Christ Jesus, and goodbye is too formal for my ears. Holy Spirit has reminded me over and over and over again throughout this week, “you’re going to live forever” and it fills my heart with hope.

How do the lost ever say goodbye? We are those who have been set free from death and the kingdom of darkness, and we are never going to die. “Life is a vapor fading fast, just one more moment it will pass but it will be remembered like a dream in the night”. Just a dream, slightly faded, trying hard to reach onto and grab hold of the details, but still just a dream, and we are going to live forever. Forever. Growing in love and friendship with Jesus, growing in love and friendship with one another. And no ‘goodbye’ is final.

Early tomorrow morning I will squeeze my sister, mix our tears and kiss her cheek, and will hug him like I’m never letting go. The way I always have. But I’m going to let go. I’ll cry when they leave, probably cry throughout the day, and cry when I go to bed. But tomorrow I will go to bed unlike the rest of this week as I have fought sleep in an effort to fight their leaving. Tomorrow I’ll also make a pot of french press, watch Cohen for an hour, do some laundry and cleaning and go to the Awakening. Life will go on and I will enjoy it because we are still moving forward and all for the same goal: We miss you Jesus, and we want you to come back.

And I’m so thankful for you Jeremy.


Sleep & Restoration – this will take awhile

Two very influential leaders in the body of Christ came to IHOP-KC a few weeks ago, fueling our Student Awakening meetings and fueling the hearts of the body here. I was real excited to hear them teach us about Holy Spirit but awoke the first morning with a RAGING headache, pounding pressure in my sinuses….. and went back to sleep. Later I turned on the webstream and listened to John Arnott teach as I prepared for my day.

While doing my hair in the bathroom he came to the ministry time of the service, and as he welcomed the presence of the Lord to come and touch hearts in the room I felt a tangible weight come into MY room and wash over me, sweeping through my soul and senses and completely overtaking me. As John continued the presence grew and I slowly sank to the floor until I was lying down on the rug soaking up the wave after wave washing over me.

*pause* insert history.

I’m going to get very personal for the glory of the Lord, not the bearing of my soul in an unhealthy manner. There was a time in my early childhood that I do not remember seeing my father, this time may have not lasted for more than a few months, but it was long enough to mark me. He would leave for work before I woke, coming home after I fell asleep. I have been a light sleeper all of my life, and in the early hours of the morning I would wake as my daddy woke. Grabbing my blanket and doll I would climb out of bed and go to the bathroom where he was showering.

In my mind, the only way I would be able to see my father is if I could stay awake long enough for him to get out of the shower, and then I could spend time with him. But the room was warm and the day early, and no matter how hard I fought it each attempt would end with me sleeping on the bathroom rug.  Hours later my mom would find me there  and I would wake to her tears at my pain and desire to see my father. My little heart would be so angry that I couldn’t just stay awake.

I’ve never slept well. There are things that happen in the heart of a child that mark them forever, and nothing that man can do will remove those marks. Truthfully until two weeks ago I had never connected my years of inability to sleep to the pain related to a missing father.

But that morning, as I lay on the floor FEELING, the intensity of the Presence in the room and the joy in my heart as I was enveloped in it, deep inside I heard a voice say “I never leave you”. In that moment I saw 5 yr old me on the bathroom floor, remembering the longing in my heart for my Father, the fight within me to say awake, the pain each morning with my mothers tears, and was overcome by my childhood emotions; loneliness, longing, and failure. Again I heard the Lord say to that little girl heart “I never leave you” and stronger than the depth of pain inside of me I could FEEL, truly feel the limitless love of God for my little heart and I wept on the bathroom floor as John Arnott ministered to hundreds at the altar in the FSM auditorium.

This lasted for quite a while, tears soaking the rug as the presence of the Lord came over me, wave after wave after wave. At some point I got up, washed my face and went to work. Truly the day was awful, the pressure in my head was TEN times worse after crying, and I went about the day in fear that all could see the heart so exposed by the Lord in the morning.

By the end of the day I was raw,  brain frozen, and the headache was threatening to turn into a migraine, the first in two months. As the evening service began I sat upstairs working in the editing suites as the editors worked hard on projects for Onething, but my mind was threatening to shut down.

Making a comment about leaving for medicine, one of the guys turned around, asking if I’d been having migraines. (I was prayed for at a department meeting and had gone for TWO WHOLE MONTHS without a SINGLE migraine!) I told him no, but that I was still waking with a headache each morning, then surprised myself by going further and telling them that waking came with pain, frustration and anger – never joy or peace, and that this had gone on for a long, long time. AND went on to tell them that my sinuses were beating me on the inside causing me to hardly breathe or think, thus my need for medicine.

With furrowed brow he asked “Well can we pray for you?”. It had been a long day. My emotions were sapped, patience gone, and I was tired. My response of  “sure, if you want to” was birthed out of these emotions, but he  quickly tho gently replied “Oh, so you don’t think you will be healed if we pray for you then?”

An arrow shot over the walls around my soul, and under the door i keep locked tightly sticking deep into my heart with a “twump!”. No really, it hit hard and hurt, leaving my heart crying out “NO! I WANT to still believe Lord!”  Keeping tears inside I threw out my hands and said “oh guys please pray for me right now!”

And they did 🙂 Simple heartfelt prayers for my healing, asking the Lord to restore my frame completely and to give me deep sleep. “No more headaches God, and let Christina wake up each morning with joy.” There was no dramatic rush of air through my body, the pressure did not break and instantly lift off of me, but the headache eased a little bit, and my heart was tender as they finished. I went into the meeting, waiting to see if the Lord would touch me but left a short time later to get medicine.

Sitting in the parking lot upon my return, I lay my head on the steering wheel whispering a plea for immediate healing, for sleep. And for no more headaches though I had no hope, no imagination of mornings without pounding pain ushering me into consciousness. And right there in the cold car it happened again. The intensity of memories can steal my breath at times and this was one of those moments. Just like that morning I saw myself, tiny little 5-year-old me lying on the floor of the bathroom with warm moist air lulling me to sleep as I fought to keep my eyes open, desperate just to be with my father and know that he loved me. That was when I realized the “sleep thing” was a “dad thing”. I’m surprised at how tears can come when we think there is no place left inside for them to hide. But there is no shame in tears before our Father, and again I heard Him say to my pained little heart “Christina I never leave you” and I sat in the car as the love that knows no bounds soothed my weary soul, knowing that He was restoring and will restore my heart and soul. The meds kicked in, I went inside, the meeting was good, I went home, ate food, and went to bed later than I should have, as usual.

Something slowly woke me, my bed was moving? But with a pattern. Oh my phone? No my alarm on my phone but I could hardly stir myself to find it and turn it off. Sitting in bed shaking my head to try to bring clarity to what was happening, light spilling through lace curtains, eyes trying to ward it off. Light? Oh my alarm, it’s morning. I had slept. REAL hard. All night long. Wait, Jessica Kenny & Jesse prayed for me that I would sleep. And? For no headache when I woke up. Wait does my head hurt?

Oh yeah, I’m a cryer. Head in my hands, tears trickling through. Last night I SLEPT, and I have no headache.

This has gone on for weeks. Each morning waking to a heart that is full of rest, joy flowing through my being as I realize another day has begun, and I am not in pain. They have prayed for me a number of times since, asking the Lord to seal it, and thanking Him for freedom. The fun thing is that I never told them about my dad and hating sleep. They just care about me and wanted me to rest.

It’s strange living in a season of outpouring. Walking through our days with a strange awareness of our souls and the presence of the Lord near to our souls, showing us the broken places, and bringing to us His love. Each day is different, sometimes in painful ways but it is all bringing us to wholeness, and I’m FIGHTING with so much inside to take every single bit that would be given to me. And each morning, I awake with joy. And no pain. And thank my Father for never leaving me, and for His love that never ends.

Holy Spirit

Today I am thankful for the true friendship that is found in Jesus.

And how amazing is that sentence! The Lord of all creation has relationship, interaction, and FRIENDSHIP with the sons of men! Hallelujah! And He has left His Spirit to lead and guide us, and He never leaves us alone.

Thank You God for never leaving us, thank You for giving us such a friend to lead and teach and guide and be strong when we are weak.

July 11, 2009

Lightning     Fireflies     Crickets     Ice Cream and Country music.

If I were home right now I’d be sitting on the roof outside my window (dear God, never let my mom read my blog. It terrified her that I used to climb out that window)  or high up in the big tree by the far pasture.

In my memories there are still horses in that pasture. Two chestnut Arabians, and one miniature pony, and in half an hour I would hear the sound of the train going through t.wn. It still surprises me that my babies are gone,

Cressie was my favorite because he was bigger, stronger and harder to control.  The first night we had him I spent nearly two hours high up on that back as he fought to go into the barn, and I fought to go on a ride. The result was the two of us going in one small circle for a LONG time. He put up a good fight, eventually trying to shake and rear me off but he finally gave in and five minutes later I took him in to eat. I think he loved me for fighting with him that night.

Tonight I sit on the front porch, the sound of cars ringing in my ears, far far away from the home that I love.  Joshua taught Hebrews 3 in bible study tonight, the Spirit of God was so strong in the room that my breath was shallow and I had to actively fight the tears that threatened to run free; we are looking to a city. Hoping in a King who’s rule will never end, and longing for the day when we can always be with Him. Josh said that David completely removed the veil from the temple, which makes Ps. 84 make SO much more sense. I understand that heart of that earthly king “just let me be a little bird sleeping at your feet” he never wanted to leave Your presence either.

Summertime always makes me think of home, old friends, and missions trips. Remembering all of the bonfires, all of the fundraisers, all of the outreaches, always being in another country over my birthday. I loved that part, loved wearing myself out all summer long. Back then I felt radical, and remember finding you in the extravagant places; on the plains of the Lakota Sioux reservation, out on the brick streets of Londonderry, in the side of a volcano in San Salvador. Now I search for you in the corner of a brightly lit room, trying to hide my tears from the camera’s & my friends running them.

It’s funny how different things look as time passes. How easy it would be to become dissilutioned with our own misunderstanding. I never in my worst dreams imagined myself in America at 22. But here I am loving You Jesus. I’m convinced there’s a journey ahead that even I couldn’t have dreamed up, and am so thankful for the time that You have given me to learn how to set my face towards You, to fix my eyes. You’re so faithful to keep on teaching me. You see everything, and still You love me.


A few weeks back I had an interesting dream

I was surrounded by darkness and demons.  A way of escape appeared and I ran hearing them speaking of leting me go, because a battle was coming that they would surely win, and then I would never be free.

I was then in a brightly lit room with 15-20 others. They seemed to be spiritual leaders, and there was much discussion of this coming battle; different ways the enemy might attack, and arguments about different plans of defense. Somehow I could feel with my soul that the enemy was gathering a very large army. I could feel them, broken into rank and file, preparing strategically for the battle.  And we were arguing strategy instead of preparing.

Anxiously I left the room, walking through a doorway into a dark room. All of the lights were turned off and in a chair corner was Dennis.

His head was bent in prayer, and I felt with my soul that he was prepared, and actively preparing for what was coming. All alone in a dark room, with the leaders and respected persons right next door in bright light, he sat with eyes closed,  communing with Holy Spirit.

Suddenly beside me was a small demonic creature with weapon in hand. I struck at it, but turning I could not see it. What followed is strange to describe, every time I tried to look, I saw NOTHING, and would be struck. But when I did NOT try to see with my eyes, I saw, and could respond. All the while Dennis sat in the corner with head bent, and heart fully connected to Jesus.

Waking I realized that when I tried to see with my eyes I was disorientated and attacked, but when I “looked” with my soul, I saw and responded.  I was being trained to see with my spiritual eyes because of a man who had himself prepared his soul in the place of communion with God. That morning I walked into the coffee shop and there was Dennis behind the counter working, but I could feel that his soul was prepared.

I have become suddenly incredibly thankful for those who have forged a path of intimacy with Jesus in dark rooms. Who have loved Him only for the love of Him. At IHOP we have language from dreams and prophetic promises about a “nameless & faceless generation” who will walk in the Spirit of God, carry Intercession as a torch and usher in a great revival, and I believe it.

But I know that I am walking on a path that has been beaten with rusty knifes and broken shovels, a road that was forged with much difficulty by so many men and women who’s names I will never know on this side of eternity. But I see Dennis, and I love him for the battles that he fought in secret to gain ground in his own life, so that I could get up and run.

Your love

On Saturday my friend Joanna played a two hour Devotional set in the house of prayer.

I met Joanna in the fall of 2004 when my brother Jeremy was doing the first half of his internship on the Nightwatch at IHOP-KC. Back then she was a worship leader on the NW and J sang on her team. I loved her worship sets, and I think Holy Spirit did to, because He always, ALWAYS seemed to come when Joanna would sing; in sweet tender ways, bringing many tears while touching the hearts of us in the room, or in wild and crazy ways, sweeping everyone off of their feet and into love driven dance. One particular morning she jumped off the platform to dance with the rest of us while the other musicians carried the music.

Not currently acting as a full-time worship leader, every now and then she will fill spots in the hop and I try to attend each one.  She’s captured the best part of her worship set from Saturday and you can listen to it on her website.

This is what You died for, that I may be Yours: that I may know and believe, accept and receive Your love.

And Your love is like an ocean, never ending, who can search it out?

Who can know the depths who can search the heights of Your love, of Your love? Stronger, deeper, wider, higher, bigger than I could ever imagine, Your love, Your love.

And this is why You died, that I may be Yours, that I may know and believe, accept and receive Your love.

Volition: A Long & Controverisal Post

The  Volition film is about 10 minutes long but WELL worth the time .

This video has stirred up  my heart to burn about abortion, reminding me of my own history related to it:

It was a cold snowy day in the middle of winter. I could not have been older than 4 or 5, and the snow outside of the car was deep. Mom had just parked downtown near a large brick building. Car doors opened and my three siblings were climbing out, but I remember plopping straight into a snow drift. The four of us were layered up like mummies against the cold, (I’m talking joints that could not bend bundled!) and as I climbed out of the snow onto the sidewalk I remember asking what we were doing there.

Mom had been walking around the front of the car to the sidewalk, and at my question came and stood in front of me. Getting down on her knees in the snow and taking my tiny hands in hers,  she looked long, and deep into my eyes. “We are here to pray. Because mommy’s are going inside of that building to kill their babies, some of them don’t know that they have babies, and some of them don’t even know that the babies are dying. So we are going to pray that God would show them, and that God would save the babies.”

Abortion was never an issue that I was innocent about. For years of our lives, every Friday morning was spent outside of that clinic holding silent prayer meetings for the mercy of God, the salvation of souls, and the lives of the innocent. Oh the stories I could tell about the things that happened to us while making intercession on that sidewalk. The Lord taught us to be tender, to hear His heart, to love with Him, to grieve with Him. For years we stood whispering that prayer “oh God, would You save the babies”.

Flash forward to a beautiful,  summer morning. I was 18 standing with one close friend, forming a wall of prayer stronger than the walls of stone. This particular clinic only performed abortions during certain hours on certain days, and we had one hour of that time frame left to pray and were determined to not leave the building without an intercessor, when a car pulled into the lot driven by a young boy.

By young I mean 16-17, and in the passenger seat was a middle aged woman so closely resembling him she could only be his mother. She got out of the car and approached the front of the building never once glancing our way. We were less than 15 feet from him, and though we did not cry out, held no signs, and carried no malice, he was nervous at our presence. It was becoming a hot day and he waited in the car with the windows down as we stood and prayed. I could feel something happening, remember the air seemed charged with electricity and the question posed in my mind “what are You doing Jesus?” while at the same time noticing the security guard step inside the building.

Instantly I felt the spirit of God well up inside, filling me with boldness. For what? I had no idea, but knew I had to speak.

“Hey, Could…could you come here? I want to talk to you”

There was indecision on his face, questions I couldn’t identify, but he opened the car door and stepped across the parking lot, crossing the grassy line that had restrained us for years and onto our sidewalk. Legally as a “protester” we are not allowed to leave the public property, aka, sidewalk, and one foot on that lawn would have sent the security guard into a frenzy and brought the police. Once he was in front of me I had no idea where to start, how to begin, what was happening, but felt the intensity of a divine situation.

“What are you doing here, was that your mom who went inside?”

“Oh, yeah. She said she had a doctor’s appointment”

I’d noticed the tags of the car were from some obscure county out in the country.

“A doctor’s appointment? This is a long way to come for a doctor’s appointment”

“Well yeah, but…she said there was some specialist at this woman’s clinic and she had to come this morning. She doesn’t have a license so I had to drive her”

And that was how it began. I asked questions, and the Lord gave grace for this young man to begin to tell me about his life. Parents divorced some years before, mother had sunk into alcoholism and lost custody of both her children. She lived in a town near them but they seldom saw her due to her lifestyle.  And here he was, roughly 17, driving his mother about 2 hours for a “doctor’s appointment”. Where do I go from here? My heart broke inside as I spoke the words as tenderly as I could,

“This is an abortion clinic. Your mom is here having an abortion”

And what else can I say? How can I convey the emotions that were churning inside of me, and the burst of confusion swirling across his face.  He was insistent “No, she’s here to see a doctor. No, my parents are divorced” but the look on his face showed clearly that he knew. The next few minutes are hardly believable as we talked about abortion and the heart of God. He was not a believer, had hardly stepped foot in a church, but knew that he believed that killing a child in the womb was wrong and asked what he could do to get her to talk to me. Even as we stood talking I could feel the importance of the minutes ticking by and I explained to him that I could not step across the sidewalk, that I could never get inside of the building.

“But you can go in”

Again, raw emotions racing across his face, as I told him which door to use, what to say to the receptionist. How did I know? I didn’t, but Jesus told His disciples to not worry what to say, that Holy Spirit would speak through them, and all I know is that on that day, He did.

“They will take you into a room and she will be in a hospital gown, tell her that you know what’s going on, and that there are people outside who will adopt the baby, who will pay for every bill. And we will stay out here until you get back”

Crazy move? Maybe, I mean I was single and 18, the friend with me 17, but we were desperate, and there was a tiny person, who desperately needed for someone to do something crazy. He looked terrified, and we prayed for him to have boldness. Then he crossed that lawn and went inside. We both hit our knees on that old sidewalk, sobbing and crying out for the Lord to save this one, this one little baby. Some time passed and he came back outside in somewhat of an emotionless state of shock saying, “it was just like you said, it happened just like you said.”

I wish I could tell you that his mother relented, that we saved a life on that day. But she didn’t. We spoke with him for sometime introducing him to Jesus, the God/Man who is King and longing for friends. Who loves to reveal Himself to the sons of men, and the power of the words backed up by what he himself had experienced that day convinced him and a soul was brought into the kingdom. It was noon, and we left.

Every time I stand in front of an abortion clinic with red tape on my mouths, and a red band on my wrist, petitioning the courts of Heaven on behalf of life in the womb, and for mercy on this nation, I see that little clinic, and remember the life that was almost saved.  Revival only comes after great sacrifice, not of violent actions or political overthrow, but of men and women willing to lay down their lives in the secret place of prayer and fasting. It’s that simple, and that difficult. To die to our flesh and our worldly desires that souls might be saved, that lives might be saved. Oh that You would find faith on the earth at Your return Jesus, oh that You would find a friend in my heart.

“Jesus, I plead Your blood over my sins and the sins of my nation. God end abortion, and send revival to America”