February 2017, Pt. 1: 2013 revisited, for context.

I spent much of the years 2010-2017 reasonably expecting Something to happen. By November of 2016, it looked like the Something was imminent. Then all the mess happened, and I wrote seven thousand pages of blog content about January 2017. By February I had resolved to minimize the chance for any more similar heartache. My grand plan was to have no expectations of the future at all. I began regularly praying to God, “You: here, now. Me: no plans, no expectations.” I would focus only on God and live in the moment, with the understanding that He would provide any info relevant to the future. I would no longer deliberately spend any energy being expectant.

My ultimate hope is in Christ and an attendant eternity spent glorifying God the Father. That faith and expectation provides an abiding peace – the peace that passes understanding – in all temporal circumstances. What that faith and expectation does not do is change the fact that temporal circumstances are oftentimes challenging. Life is hard. That’s pretty much where I was hanging out in early February. The “living in the moment” resolution provided for much psycho-spiritual whiplash. If I’d been (most often) reasonably and (occasionally) unreasonably future-oriented for several years, it was a new and unpleasant thing indeed to suddenly be absolutely grounded in the present. I found it was a thin line between being solidly grounded in the unpleasant present, on the one hand, and in being buried under hopelessness, on the other. I hadn’t realized how much my day-to-day peace of mind had been dependent on the confident belief that I would eventually wake up in this lifetime in a much better set of circumstances, until that confident belief was gone.

But life goes on, and God is constant. I won’t beat this blog to death with laments about early February. It was bad. He is Good.


The idea of “starting over” had been heavy on my mind, since the January 23 dream. Assuming it had been God telling me that we were starting over, I was extremely interested in (if not absolutely panicked by) trying to figure out the starting point of the starting over. All things taken into consideration, it seemed like 2013 was as good a place as any from which to begin again – whatever beginning again might even mean. With that consideration in mind, in the first week of February, I re-read my “faith walk” journal from 2013.

It had been in 2013 that things came alive spiritually in me and around me in new ways.  I wrote 120 pages of journal that year, recording dreams and notable waking events. Reading through those pages some years after the fact, I was struck by the casual ease with which the journal’s author had documented a solid succession of dreams, prophecies, healings, and other markers that indicated big things were getting under way. I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover, upon reading the journal in February, that I’d been looking back on 2013 with too generous an eye, that my memory of that year was constructed more of embellishment and less of substance. But it really had been all that. For purposes of adding context to the present, I’m going to include some 2013 (starting in late 2012) content in this post. And since I (apparently) get paid by the word, recycling my own stuff works out well. Cha-ching.

The journal entries here are a collection of partial and entire entries, included in whatever format conveys the necessary context. Any italics print right after a date is my current explanation of the four-year old journal. Any bold italics after the journal entry is me adding present-day commentary.


December 14, 2012

I wrote this after I’d attended two months’ worth of the equipping classes at Upper Room. I had, in those two months, talked at length to God about what all we attendees had seen and done in class. He knew that I was interested in being able to do what I’d seen. He also let me know, through both human agency and Holy Spirit conviction, that He wants all of us to desire a relationship with Him more than we desire to be gifted. I spent some time thinking on that notion and wrote the following as a formal acknowledgement that I’d received the message.

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind.’ I have never followed the first and great commandment. I have read it and wondered. But I’ve never lived it. Christ said, “You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.” He doesn’t explicitly state, “If you do not do this, you will not live;” but it makes sense that, when the Word Become Flesh prescribes a recipe for life on His terms, we would all do well to put our best foot forward. This necessarily means truly surrendering my life to Christ completely, as I have never before.

If I am initially motivated by a desire for powerful gifting of prophetic, healing, and deliverance, I must first value the relationship over the ministry. Solomon said, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” For the first time I seek to trust the Lord with all my heart, at the expense of trusting my own understanding. I can expect Him, in proportion to my love for Him, to increasingly direct my paths.

So I pray and say, Lord, I don’t know how much I believe these words, or how truthful it is to say; you know my heart and the extent to which I truly desire to love You with all my heart, soul, strength, and mind. I must practice saying these words and familiarize myself with their eternal possibilities. As I say the words out loud, I feel foolish. I have said, “I love you,” to my parents, my children, and many friends and lovers, without feeling foolish. It is difficult to make that same declaration to my Creator. So I suspect I’ve not loved family, friends, and lovers properly, since I’ve clearly not loved my Creator first.

Lord, help me love you the way Moses and Jesus admonished. I have regarded the first and great commandment as a Biblical afterthought. Today I recognize that I must follow it, and to do so will require a re-wiring of my mental, physical, and spiritual processes. I cannot will it, and I ask for the Holy Spirit’s help in taking these baby steps. Thank you for loving me, that I might love you in spite of myself.”


March 9, 2013

A dream.

I see a bird underwater, covered in moss. The moss is stacked like conical towers. It looks as if the bird has lived under water his entire life.  I wonder if he hasn’t just hatched and why moss would be getting inside his egg. The bird swims adeptly, even having never actually moved through the environment for which he was designed. The lighting is bright, overhead, two o’clock orientation. The water is clear blue. The bird moves comfortably. After further thought: the tall and tapered stacks of moss indicate the bird has possibly been stationary for a long time under water. END.

Context: is the bird me? I’ve possibly lived my entire life in an environment unlike the one for which I was designed. I’ve been functioning adeptly in that wrong environment.


March 14, 2013

Activity at Upper Room equipping classes

After the guest speaker finished his presentation, Michael Hats said it was time for healing. He gathered the Equipping Team up front. They had been praying for leading during the preceding hour and a half. I wondered specifically about healing for my right wrist-arm-shoulder complex. The team members each got up and asked if anyone experienced the particular physical malady that had impressed the team member. Four or five team members asked either generally to the room or to individuals specifically if they suffered from the perceived affliction. Then K said, (paraphrasing) “Does anyone have a right wrist that bothers you? ‘Gristly’ is the best way I can describe it. It doesn’t cause pain, but it worries you.” Me. I got up and walked into the line of folks who were gathering up front after they identified with an affliction.

The team members were asked to sit down and observe the respondents during a brief prayer time. After the prayer each team member was asked if he ‘saw’ anything noteworthy involving a respondent during the prayer. The first team member to respond was T. He called me out and described this that he had seen: “I saw swirling energy over you, without color; then it turned green, like life. The green energy went down in to you.” After all team members had given their impressions from the prayer time, they came to the front to pray for the individuals to whom they had just spoken. T came up to me. I gave a brief description of my issue (‘right hand, arm, and shoulder; many injuries, much spasm and tension’).

T prayed over my arm specifically. They he moved around behind me and prayed at my back, placing his hands lightly on my shoulder, eventually moving his hand to rest directly on the spot in my right shoulder where the most tension lies, the spot that P (body work specialist) ID’d as the source for much of the problem in my shoulder, arm, and hand. While T prayed, I did so as well, asking God to please let me have my hand back. I told Him that I knew I’d ‘owned’ my drumming abilities in the past and that I wouldn’t take credit for it or use it as an identity any longer. I waited and wondered what, if anything, would happen. I prayed with my eyes closed, mostly, with my head bowed.

Something definitely happened. It happened so quickly that I can’t say for sure what ‘it’ was or what order any specific steps occurred. In a confused bit of time, probably three minutes after the prayer began, I became aware of: T deliberately exhaling/blowing on my back; a ‘thick’ sensation in my body; and the distinct sensation of some energy moving down the length of my right forearm, to my fingertips. I was startled by the arm thing, so much so that I jerked my head up from my prayer and stared as if my arm had just spoken to me. T continued exhaling on my back. I noticed my knees seemed shaky. I wondered if I wasn’t experiencing a rush of adrenaline, in the guise of some Holy Spirit activity. After the prayer time I talked briefly with T and told him that I’d felt something. He told me he believed God would heal my arm.

That night in bed, I felt spontaneous activity in the arm. I specifically remember hearing and feeling bones move around, such that at one point things were popping around without me actually moving. There was also some twitching going on in my shoulder and upper arm. The next day and ever since, my right arm complex feels mostly unchanged, though maybe a bit less tight. I haven’t yet played drums since the evening of healing prayer. I did play around with some sticks on 3/23/13; I did notice a slightly better grip than I’ve been used to for years. Will play on Easter and see what it all feels like.

Update – 03/30/13: On Sunday PM, 3/24, I played bass guitar for the first time in a few months. I immediately noticed an improvement of the fine motor control in my right hand. It wasn’t flawless, for sure. BUT IT WAS IMPROVED. Then I played drums at the Tuesday AM prayer at Upper Room on 3/26. Used plastic hot rods, with zero discomfort in my right hand. I’m not used to playing with those sticks, and I don’t know if I can have that level of freedom with wood sticks. Will verify tomorrow during Easter service.

Update – 04/05/13: played Easter at Easter service. I had none of the grip issues that have plagued me since the latest injury back in 2002. Still dealing with the same old lack of responsiveness, but there has been undeniable improvement in my hand and arm since T prayed for me. THANK YOU, GOD.


March 30, 2013.

I am recounting a conversation I had with a young man after equipping class one evening. His prophetic encouragement for me serves as a good example of the kinds of things people were saying to me all during the first half of the year.

After the class was over, I was sitting and waiting to talk with M. While I was in line, D came up to me and started talking, and I thought he was just chit chatting. I had given a testimony about my hand healing, and I assumed he wanted to talk about that. He told me he had electricity moving around in his body and that people thought his hand felt hot to the touch. He put his hand on my shoulder, and it felt warm even through my heavy shirt. Since I don’t really know him, I don’t know how ‘unusual’ he appeared. Looking back on it, he was probably uncharacteristically amped up.

He starts telling me he sees people’s spirits, something like their aura, and he can read things about people that way. I have heard of people doing that and told him so. He starts talking about me in some disjointed way – he’s having a hard time putting it in to words. I finally get the idea he’s got a prophetic word for me, but he’s not sure how to say it. I’ll recreate the convo as much as possible:

Him: There’s a wall…no…(he’s looking at the ceiling for help)…you were raised in a tradition, a religious tradition, where gifts of the spirit weren’t (taught, appreciated, something like that).

Me: Yeah. Southern Baptist.

Him: Me too, Southern Baptist.

Me: Yeah, not a lot of spiritual gifts going on.

Him: Right, right. It wasn’t a part of anything.

Me: It wasn’t shunned or anything, it was just something that didn’t exist.

(we talked about this for a bit)

Him: There are parts of you that are…(looking back at ceiling again)…

Me: (trying to help) Dormant? Not active?

Him: It’s like a circuit board that was built for a certain purpose that requires particular software. You’re a circuit board that was built for a certain purpose. But because of the way you were brought up, you’re programming is all wrong. And I don’t mean this in a negative way. Because when that thing happened to your arm the other night God started reprogramming you. It was like (more searching for words)…it’s like when he healed your arm, he took a chisel and knocked a hole in the wall and let some light in. And he’s going to keep knocking the wall down over time. He’s started you on a great journey, an adventure. He’s going to lead you to a place where you do miracles, even raising people from the dead.

Me: that fits with what people have been telling me for a while now. Three years ago, a man I’d never seen before told me that people who had been treating me badly would come to me asking forgiveness, because God is going to give me a gift that could help them. Then one of the first nights I was here, J told me I reminded him of Todd White and that I’d be doing creative miracles.

Him: Right, right (sounded like he knew of that conversation).

Me: And then A told me that I reminded her of someone she knows named Mathias, and that God was going to choose me like he did the Biblical Mathias, because of what He sees inside me.

Him: He’s already chosen you! God wants you to enjoy this process. He’s going to give you more moments like the one where he healed your arm. Rather than just turn you into the finished product all at once, he’s going to do it gradually, so He can enjoy the process. He wants you to enjoy the process as much as He’s going to enjoy the process.

I have no idea even today of whether or not the person “D” is truly gifted in prophecy. It’s what he said that warrants inclusion here.


April 10, 2013.

This entry demonstrates the kind of hopefulness that was growing in me four years ago.

The flood of prophecies that started coming in Fall 2012 have derailed a nagging hopelessness that I’d been dragging around since Charles Slagle’s big one back in 2010. The first year after he ministered to me, I watched the clock with one eye on the second hand and the other on seven years down the road. Not a peaceful existence.

In the second year, I learned to embrace the miserable present and not focus my energy on wishing away years of my life. I got serious about becoming someone who could create songs from initial brain chatter to finished marketable product. I practiced guitar and bass. I composed passable song structures and added lyrics. I dialed back my obsessive devotion to journaling about my family. I continued journaling heavily until Fall 2012, but it eventually wasn’t with the same sense of desperation that motivated the hundreds of pages written before. Apparently I made peace with the notion that declining to catalog every syllable of every conversation with the kids wasn’t tantamount to abandoning them to their hellish lives. And it was obvious that all my journaling had done nothing to change their situation. Seeing no apparent return on the investment, and coming to terms with a) the fact that my family was permanently blown up, and b) the fact nobody’s life would be saved by my written word count, I adopted a less rigorous approach to recording it all.


It’s safe to say that it was during 2012 that I began emerging from the suffocating grief and blackness that had defined my life since February 2009. I found myself living longer periods of time between bouts of despair. I was letting go of the illusion that focusing on Charles’ prophecy could be trusted as any sort of minute-to-minute substitute for an authentic existence, however awful the authentic existence might be. There was no way to enter suspended animation for seven years, at the end of which time I might spring out nowhere and enter suddenly and dramatically into a life defined by some nebulous ‘gift’.

So where is the despair that mentioned earlier in this entry? There are varying and competing strains of despair, still. But one of the more dominant despair themes centered on the notion that somewhereoutthere was some new life, far superior to my current one, that was going to show up somehow, before or during April 2017. Even as I released a death grip on hopes that I could sleep through seven years until party time, the prospect of deliverance was a nagging…

Lemme summarize. To the extent that personal prophecy has shaped my perspective over the past few years, the series of words I’ve received since Fall of 2012 have helped motivate me into a peaceful present that cares less for the arrival of The Gift. I now rest peacefully, relatively speaking, in the comfort that It is coming and It is going to be huge. I’m three years into the seven-year wait. God had given me the perspective that the remaining four years aren’t to be endured and survived near so much as maximized and embraced. In the foreseeable future I will continue my current lifestyle that involves dream journaling; prayers for healing; and time spent with those who are mature in the gifts.

Since Fall 2012 I’ve been overcoming my ‘fear of man’ and have begun praying for the healing of those around me. That is, I’ve been laying on hands and praying that the subject would be healed of whatever malady warrants the prayer. Here’s my list so far:

  • A guy in class last fall, for healing of fused ankle. No known improvement.
  • MC, for injured shoulder. No known improvement.
  • MA, for relief of pancreatitis. Debilitating attack later on same day.
  • BH, for healing of ulcerative colitis. No known improvement.
  • BV, head-injured. Prayed for him one day when we saw each other out walking. No known improvement.
  • BH, which actually wasn’t a prayer; I asked her if I could pray for her apparently-hopeless foot. She cried and graciously declined the offer.
  • DC, for a back injury. No apparent improvement related to my prayer.
  • CS, for heart arrhythmia. No known improvement.
  • DA, for new knees. No known improvement.

      – If at first you don’t succeed, keep trying and not succeeding.


April 14, 2013.

Another perspective on hope.

It’s hitting home. God is walking back the damage in my arm. He is walking me into a destiny that will perfectly exploit the person he made me to be. <- Speculation. Jeremy Shuck started his ministry time with, “We hate the breaking, but we love the breakthrough.” We hate the crushing, but when He crushes us, he does it so the finished product is devoid of any wrong motivation. I recall talking to home church months ago, telling them maybe God had to destroy me first, before he could do whatever it is He’s going to do. And He has been, for sure. Breaking me, crushing me, destroying me. He’s now giving me glimpses of the finished product.

He’s using other people’s prayers to heal my arm. I am so blessed by that grace and mercy. It’s an invisible grace and mercy that brings visible joy and peace to the countenance of those who receive the touch. Light radiates from those faces in the colors and form of joy and peace. Countenances are forever reworked, reshaped, no longer animated by rage, shame, or jealousy; but relaxed with humble gratitude into the shape of that peace which passes understanding.

Healing of physical malady, born of faithful prayer, accompanied by tangible energy from heaven – it is a ‘shocking’ touch of heaven on earth. Heaven wins. Bones, tendons, ligaments, joints, cells – made new. Not in eternal glorified perfection yet; but new so the blessed one and those close by can know they’ve been party to a miracle, a gracious kiss from the great I AM.

It’s hitting home. God is going to use me to help people like that, use me as a vector for that energy and blessing. The crushing is coming to an end. The blessing is getting close.

All my life I’ve struggled with authority: rebelling against it until my mid-30s; floundering always when trying to find my own. My upbringing was perfectly designed to destroy my spirit and authority, my hope. God is remaking me into someone who has His authority. A person who has feared his own authority for decades is now inching carefully into the jet stream of the great I AM; in which perfect current there is the same authority that created the universe and resurrected the Christ. And healed my arm. The authority to do His will. The authority to be a change agent whose commission papers bear the same signature as the sun and moon.

As one who has  always been unable to muster any personal authority on my own, I’m perfectly poised for the Lord to use me. If a man has lost his legs to polio as a very young child, then he will live a life of one who has no concept of using his own legs. If that man is given a new pair of legs, courtesy of the great I AM at age 45, and those legs are designed to go in the direction and at a speed prescribed by their Creator, and the man chooses to honor that directive, it is safe to assume that the man will be motivating in a way much more in line with God’s will than he would have been if he’d lived his entire life with an original pair of legs taken for granted. I think so, anyway. So I, who have wielded zero personal authority in my life, am suddenly receiving God’s authority for whatever He wants me to do. I can never mistake the authority as my own.

In the past day alone, I’ve begun coming to terms with the idea that this crushing I’ve endured for most (all?) of my life – certainly for the past four years and some months – has been a preparation for the Lord’s unleashing a flood of blessing to me and through me. Most of my life has been lived in a slow-grinding miserable void, where there is no sense of purpose; convinced I’d been born in the wrong era, convinced that every major decision I’ve made has been the opposite of the best option. The past four years alone have been a horrible moment frozen in amber. Maybe it was all a necessary price to be paid, the requisite humbling necessary to allow for the eternal benefit of many folks, via the blessings God is going to push out through me. I can no longer believe this is a vainglorious notion – rather, I accept it eagerly and calmly, as my crystallizing perspective dictates. The millions of seconds that have ticked by, while I watched the hand crawl around and around for years, weren’t endured without purpose. And what a blast it will be, for the dream bird to fly up out of the water into the environment for which he was designed.

            – Or maybe not.


April 18, 2013.

Important dreams, and my name is spoken.

Relevant backstory of the B-24 in today’s Dream 1, from a dream earlier in 2012 or 2013. “There were multiple B-24’s; they had been in the war and had been left somewhere. A wave or storm came or they otherwise just magically ‘were’ in the ocean. Pieces of planes and whole planes were washing across the ocean, under the surface. Sunlight on the clear ocean water illuminated the aircraft. Some whole, some in parts. Washed across a terrifying abyss, bottomless black. Toward light and a new war, or at least something better. The staging ground for the new task is indistinct other than being obviously in bright sunlight.

This one is similar in ‘prophetic’ feel to the underwater bird from March 9. Underwater imagery. Potential destiny approaching. Positive vibe. Old becoming possibly new.”

Dream 1

There’s a B-24 somewhere. A smiling young man carries a machine gun aboard the plane. This view’s background is a white wall, more like a personal home snap shot than a scene outside where a bomber would have been loading. Young man smiles at me, possibly waves. He looked about the age of the young men and boys who crewed those bombers. He is possibly me.


Dream 2

I can’t tell if this is a video game or live action.  There is a game board with pieces that are alive, flesh and blood, size undetermined. Human in appearance. They are like chess pieces come to life, only the game isn’t chess. First, ‘my’ team attempts to advance into the objective goal area. There is a route that suddenly appears undefended. One man races toward the goal. I am willing him forward. (I am watching, not actually controlling his actions.) He is shot or otherwise cut down at just the last second before reaching the goal. His weapon skids out into the goal area, even as he vanishes from the board. Then ‘my’ team is assigned to defend the goal. No more action.

This morning a storm woke me up at around 0500. I got up and journaled for a bit. Did a load of laundry. Back in bed by 0600. As I was dozing off, I was imagining myself explaining to JC how little my ex-wife means to me, how I’m not worried about her much now. And I heard my name in my head. I stopped my dozing thoughts, and the words reverberated amidst the sleepiness in my head. I’m pretty sure I didn’t think my name on my own.

            – I will reference the dreams and the spoken name again later.


May 16, 2013

A reasonably interesting dream about New Life. And the beginning of Wichita Falls – Portland – Long Island.


A friend is saying something to me, finishes with the words“that’s new life.” Then I sing harmony along with Depeche Mode’s ‘New Life’. “Contemplating, celebrating new life.” In my dream I continued singing, even though I don’t actually know any more words.

Note: May 25, 2013. Evidently I didn’t know the words I thought I did. The real lyrics say ‘Complicating, circulating’, not ‘Contemplating, celebrating’. Interesting.

Added later in the year – Sometime this week, I think on May 16, I was falling asleep again after waking early in the morning. As I dozed off, I heard something like: “You: Wichita Falls, Portland (Oregon, I think), Long Island.”


May 25, 2013

Another brush with total surrender.

I lay on the floor of my apartment, by the front door. Deliberately, and after much hesitation, I said to God, “Have all of me. My money; my time; my thoughts; my mouth.” I’ve never been as completely surrendered as I was in that moment.

It’s been a constant nag throughout my faith walk, the elephant in the living room: I’ve never completely trusted God with everything. Never trusted that He wouldn’t kill my car or lose my job or make me a quadriplegic as a method of testing my faith. Something that involves the illusion of my control. I cannot necessarily keep any of those things from happening on my own; my lack of trust in Him doesn’t prevent a thing.

For a couple of days prior to this surrender, I seriously mulled over this lack of trust and the false sense of control I was manifesting. “Why am I holding on?” I decided that anything He might have for me would be better than anything I might pretend to control. So I did it.

Nothing earth shattering followed my surrender prayer. If anything, I’ve felt more ‘released’ to do relatively high-risk internet surfing or fantasy beating off. But I am truly unburdened by the lifelong nagging grip on…nothing. So I am more surrendered now. Starting a two-day fast in the morning.


July 30, 2013

Flowers in the morning. Previously referenced here.

I am dragged from a deep sleep by an overpowering smell of flowers. I have no flowers in my apartment. The smell is massive, and I struggle to make sense of what is happening, as I lurch clumsily into wakefulness. Are the neighbors boiling flowers? Why are the neighbors doing such a strange thing as boiling flowers? WHY ARE THE NEIGHBORS BOILING FLOWERS? I am dully sick of living in the same building as other human beings who are not my family.

The smell is gone. As soon as I am awake, slightly alert, and aggravated at my neighbors, who are generally considerate people and have no history of conspicuously boiling flowers, the smell is gone. I am sitting up on the side of my bed, sniffing the air. Where did the smell go? It was just here, waking me up like a mallet to my nose. There’s no trace of the smell. It’s not still overpowering; it’s not somewhat powering; it’s not even fading away. It’s quietly and simply gone. I look at the clock. The time is one minute past 0300. Even at that ridiculous hour of the morning, I know well enough that smells aren’t binary. You can’t turn them on and off like kitchen lights with a wall switch. God just woke me up at exactly 0300 with a blast of flower smell. Sort of a smelling salts thing, waved under my nose, only with a floral twist. It was reminiscent of the smell that fell on KT’s water at class.

I smile groggily and roll to my back. How funny that the Creator of the Universe took the time to wake me out of a deep sleep with the smell of flowers. How much funnier that I don’t bother to consider myself an absolute lunatic for considering such a thing is possible. I am humbled and intrigued.

I begin talking to the Lord in my mind. “Good morning, Lord. I am awake. What do you have in mind for me at 3am, other than the sleep that was happening?” I don’t hear an actual answer. I consider going to the 0600 prayer service at church. And I wonder if I should pray, since God wanted me to be awake. What should I pray about? I begin singing a song in my head using only the word “Hallelujah”, and I say that word over and over in my mind, enjoying the unabashed communion with God. I am prompted to wonder what the word actually means. I turn on my lamp and squint over the stack of books on my nightstand. I dig the Bible dictionary out of the stack and open it. The first key word I see is ‘incense.’ Haha. God is funny. I find what I’m looking for: ‘Alleluja’ is used several times in the Psalms to call a group to worship. Something like that. Notably, its sister word, ‘Hallelujah’, is only used in one chapter of the New Testament – Revelation 19.

The word I’m singing turns into a song. I am singing the word Hallelujah in my mind. I think it’s a good song. I get out of bed and use my phone to record myself singing the Hallelujah song. Maybe this is why God got me up, to write a song.


August 15, 2013

Hesitation about total surrender. Highly pertinent today.

Lord…I always feel like trusting your guidance will be an endless exercise in doing whatever is the exact opposite of what I want or like. Is that a bad or inaccurate assessment? I can also say that anything you want for me will surely be the best possible thing, better than anything I might desire in its stead…


August 25, 2013

John G. Lake’s example; WFPLI again

Reading John G Lake’s sermons and testimonies. Wow. He’s raw and powerful. He learned something that most of us do not. I don’t know what it is that he learned, or I’d be doing what he did. It’s got something to do with truly assimilating the reality of Christ into our own selves. Something about an outpouring of Christ from us, in love. Charles Slagle has told me twice that the miraculous or prophetic will likely come about as a manifestation of overflowing love. John Lake described a similar mechanism by which something in his spirit ‘broke’ or let go, and a healing took place in someone he prayed for. From Lake’s stories it seems the healing has less to do with faith in the pray-ee than in the pray-er.

Months ago, as I dozed one morning, I heard a voice say to me, “You: Wichita Falls, Portland, and Long Island.” I’m pretty sure that’s what I heard, and I’m pretty sure that’s ALL I heard. I haven’t forgotten it. But I haven’t really done anything with it. What to do with that experience? I initially filed it away with a “wait and see” approach. Now I’m wondering if I should do more. At least pray about it, about the places. Tonight I realized that a triangle drawn from those places would cover a large chunk of the USA. Hmm. And I just read that JGL prayed that Spirit would be elevated above intellect. I prayed for help with that; immediately (I think) I became aware of those three locations again in a more insistent way. Coinkydink?


August 26, 2013

A geometric surprise.

Today at work, I printed out a map of the USA. I drew in points to represent Wichita Falls, TX; Portland, OR; and Long Island, NY. I drew lines to form a triangle based on those points. It is a perfect isosceles triangle.



September 19, 2013

Highly relevant reference to masturbation.

A couple of weeks ago, maybe, I prayed to God and asked him to help me desire only the way he wants me to desire, sexually. I think I’ve only masturbated one day since then. Not much of that going on at all. I wonder to what extent the lack of that compulsion and release has exposed mossy old crazy parts in me. Something weird is happening emotionally right now. Every time I go masto-free, there’s a blessing of some kind. Why have I clung to it? Mostly wanting to keep alive various edgy fantasies about (ex-wife), a woman whom I honestly detest.


September 27, 2013

A little something about surrender and obedience and how much I don’t trust God with surrender and obedience. Shows exactly what mindset I’ve been fighting against for years.

Sometime today I began embracing a vision for obedience about which I first read in the past year. The idea is that, as Jesus reported only doing what He sees the Father doing, so ought I to do what the Father is doing. So I prayed to God to show me what He is doing, that I might mimic Him, just as His perfect Son had done. That prayer stung, as there were parts of me immediately in rebellion against the promise of total surrender and obedience. Somehow, any serious thought of being completely obedient to God always turns to dread of unknown miseries He might inflict on me.

But I asked the Lord to show me what he’s doing, whatever that even means.


October 13, 2013

Regarding a visit to man for whom several people were caring during his illness. The info at the end of this entry was the basis for the first post in this blog.

Today I took some drinks and dog food over to “C”. I walked his dog and visited with C for about fifteen minutes. His apartment is dark, messy, and depressing.

I asked C some questions about his cancer. He told me that he’d experienced symptoms for two years before getting any medical attention. The early symptoms were disparate, not apparently related in any way; and he didn’t see any need to go for an exam until he was already very ill. While he was describing this process, I thought of DS and a dream.

Two years ago or thereabouts, I dreamed of a middle-aged white guy who was laying down on something inside a small outside wooden enclosure. A black panther wandered comfortably into the enclosure where the man and I were. I lay across the man’s torso and ‘knew’ that he had stomach cancer. End of dream.

At the time I had that dream, I had no understanding of healing prayer and the potential for people to get supernatural knowledge of maladies before prayer. I have since then learned that some people have capability to discern a malady in another person and then successfully pray for healing of that malady. John G. Lake specifically mentioned being able to touch someone and then know where in their body a problem existed and what the specific problem was. That capability is exactly what I dreamed of, when I had no idea such a thing was possible.

DS is a local doctor who has had cancer for some time. According to what I’ve heard, his current labs indicate his cancer is no longer in remission. Unfortunately, no one can find where the cancer is located. DS knows enough of the routine to know approximately how long he has to live. He’s planning accordingly.

So DS and the dream came to mind as I was talking to C. I don’t know for sure what DS looks like, but I think he looks something similar to the man in my dream back in 2011.  I texted DC, who knows DS well. We’ll see if anything comes of this.


November 1, 2013

(I had a couple of dreams that accurately represented the life circumstance of a friend of mine. My friend was encouraged when I called to tell him of the dreams. I had no prior knowledge of the circumstances referenced in the dreams.)


December 12, 2013


Something about my coffin. It was open and lit from the inside as I looked at it from a few feet away. I don’t remember what happened before that scene. There was a vague impression that I’d been inside the coffin immediately prior.

The coffin was lit by resurrection power. I knew that I had been raised from some sort of death in that coffin. Room was dark, unlit but for the light in the coffin. Also a bit of light coming from an adjoining room. I decided I should go try out my new self. Looked again at the coffin and it was dark. The power that had pushed me out alive had worn off the box.

I went to the lit room. It was the kitchen in M/D’s house. TE was there, seated, facing the hutch, her back to me. R was there, too. I was preparing to pray for R. Either because she prompted me with a comment, or just because I wanted to explain, I told TE that after (something), we walk in new or increased power and authority. She told me, “We don’t want to get carried away with that.” Something limiting. I replied, “I’m going to keep trying.” I positioned myself behind the silent R, preparing to pray resurrection into her compromised organs.

              – I will reference this date and dream again.


December 30, 2013

(Same phenomenon as referenced on November 1. Dream representing life circumstances in someone’s life, without me knowing anything about those circumstances in waking life.)


Reading the 2013 journal in the first week of February 2017 was predictably difficult. The expectation and excitement of four years ago stood in abrasive contrast to the relative gloom of 2017. More exciting content about relative gloom is soon to follow.



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