Chapter IV

And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove!

For then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness. Selah. Psalm 55:6, 7

Following my encounter with the Lord in May of 1988 when he told me that he "Despised the cross", my emotions became flattened to the point of numbness. I began to realize how truly helpless I was and what a horrible deep pit I was in. And I didn't know the way out.

The letter from the bank notifying me that they would soon repossess my mobile home put me in such despair. Having already sold much of my furniture I had been reduced to sleeping on the floor when I learned that my floor, too, would be leaving. Alongside the often recurring panic attacks, it all seemed more than I could bear.

One night soon after the letter arrived, I was on my knees in the small bedroom, crying out to the Lord with all my heart. As I knelt praying a sudden unseen force hit me in my right side, as with a doubled-up fist. The blow knocked me off my knees. I was stunned for several moments. Then an anger flooded me. I jump to my feet and yelled, "Lord! Did you see that! The devil hit me!" I began to swing my fists in the darkened room, half crying angrily, "The Devil hit me!" It was the first true emotion I'd felt since the day I yelled at the Lord.

How dare he hit me as I prayed to God. It seemed my life wasn't in a big enough mess, the devil had to add his two cents worth. I was furious. How dare he hit me, a child of God.

The incident puzzled me. I was at a stage in my life when any little thing would bring on a panic attack. Strangely enough the blow delivered to my side did not make me panic; it made me mad. I jumped about the room yelling, "You'd better never hit me again, devil. . . In Jesus' name. . . you'd better never hit me again!"

To date he hasn't.

Shortly after that experience, as I lay sleeping on my pallet, the Lord Jesus shook me awake. I looked at my clock which was on the floor beside my pallet to see the time was three o'clock a.m. The Lord said to me:

"They will not get your home until I have a place for you to live."

Groggily I nodded, "Okay, Lord," then whispered, "Thank you." His peace filled me and I drifted back to sleep.

First thing when I awoke in the morning, I remembered his word. I didn't know how it could be, but I felt confident that he had everything under control.

That early A.M. promise came either in July, or perhaps in June of 1988. I believe it was in June, but I'm not certain. I know that for several days I walked around feeling very uplifted in my spirit. Christ Jesus had given me his word and that was good enough for me.

However, that measure of faith only lasted a few days. A week or so passed and nothing happened so I began to fret.

Had I been dreaming? Did the Lord really awaken me and tell me that he would have me a place to live before the bank came for my trailer? With each passing day, my doubts grew and my faith dwindled. Then the bank notified me that my trailer would be pulled off within the next few days.

I panicked. Remaining shreds of faith flew out the window. Earlier I had sold my expensive console television and purchased a small portable one. At that time I had a little over a hundred dollars left of the TV money. My niece took the money and at my instruction bought me a tent. The tent, blue and white with yellow pegs, took all afternoon to setup, but I finally finished the job. If the need arose I had a place to go.

That tent was a monument to my unbelief and doubt; my Ishmael tint. I couldn't wait for the Lord to fulfill his word, so my flesh spent the last money I had to provide me a shelter should the repo man arrive before the Lord's place of promise.

Then a day or so after the tent was up, a sudden summer thunderstorm swept by in the afternoon and blew my tent down. The frame bent. After the storm passed, I went out and worked the remainder of the day trying to get the tent back up. Water had come through it as if it had been made of paper.

From that day, every time a stout breeze would blow my way, my lop-sided tent would collapse.

Perhaps I should explain here how the panic disorder influenced my decisions. Only a hundred or so feet from my mobile home was my mother's house which had plenty of room. She was a widow and alone in a big house, so the question was, "Why not move in with her?" In truth, I simply could not. In the presence of other people, even my mother, my daughter, my family, the attacks would be almost continuous. My daughter who lived a hundred thirty-five miles away would come to visit me, and only a few moments with her and the attacks would begin.

The only relief from the panic was total isolation from all other human beings. It didn't matter who they were, or how important to me they were. Even in isolation I would still have the attacks but less severe and of shorter duration. I had come to a point where I was willing to do almost anything to prevent an attack. The fear of panic is almost as terrible as the attack itself.

There was nothing that lessened the torment. There were times when I didn't think I could stand another moment. I wanted to go to sleep on earth and wake up in heaven. I had no idea that a time lay ahead of me when my wish would become a fervent prayer. However I was in the "Tent" phase of my wilderness experience, still very early indeed.

The summer of 1988 passed and each day I expected my trailer to be pulled away. The 'few days' stated in the bank's letter became weeks.

A couple of wonderful things happened to me that month of June 1988. My grandson Joshua was born and a couple of weeks after his birth, my daughter drove across the state to bring him for me to see. Joshua was my second grandchild. I had a little granddaughter named Jade Elizabeth who was born in 1983, before my affliction. She had been the joy of my life.

When my daughter, Denise, visited she told me that the Lord had placed it in her heart to try and get me financial help. She then went to the Social Security office and with absolutely no hassle signed me up for welfare and food stamps under S.S.I. She also began the paperwork for disability through Social Security which would take a longer time and require a physician's visit for verification of the claim. The welfare began immediately.

It wasn't much, not enough for me keep my mobile home, but it was a Godsend. Nine or ten months had passed when I had no income, so any amount looked big to me. The check I received was a bit over two hundred dollars a month along with seventy dollars worth of food stamps. (Approximately)

The Lord had strengthened my daughter, then he led her to obtain help for me. She and her husband were both young, starting their lives as most young couples, in debt for their home and cars and credit cards. They had met and married when she was a college student and had their first child before she graduated. However, she continued her studies and graduated while her husband worked at the college as a security policeman.

In my daughter's life, she had witnessed a mother go from darkness to light; from success to failure; from prosperity to poverty. However, she remained constant through it all. And now, she had to deal with a mother crippled totally by panic attacks. She tried to help me every way she could.

It wasn't long after she and my grandchildren left for their home across the state, that my sister came home from her job and stopped by to tell me, "I saw a camper today and the Lord told me it was yours. "

That seemed highly improbable since I had not yet received my first check. Also according to all she said, the camper was owned by an individual who had no intentions of selling it. Still, my sister was certain that she heard the Lord, so she stuck to her belief that the camper would be mine.

Now one might wonder why my family would allow me to lose all my material possessions, even the mobile home that I so loved. I don't have an answer except, God is sovereign. I do know there were members of my family who would have helped if they had not been so financially pressed themselves. My mother lived on a small retirement check plus a small Social Security check which combined to only a few hundred dollars a month. She vowed I would not go hungry as long as she had food, but she could not do much beyond that. It troubled her terribly to witness my plunge into the deep pit of panic and horror.

Since October of 1987 with the exceptions of gifts of money on my birthday, Christmas and mother's Day, and the six hundred dollars the neighbors brought to me, the Lord has met all my needs. I'm certain he's responsible for placing the burden on my neighbors to bring me the six hundred dollars, and I'm sure my easy time with Social Security can be accredited to him. The Lord through the government has fed, sheltered and clothed me through these long tortured years.

I went through a troublesome period when I heard several preachers say how wrong it was for Christians to received government help, especially welfare. When I sought the Lord on the matter he took me to the last chapter in Jeremiah of where the King of Babylon took care of Jehoiachin, King of Judah. My guilt and confusion left and has never returned over the matter. If the Lord could use the king of Babylon, why would using the United States government be any different in principle.

Everything had been done for me by others. Applying for welfare or Social Security had not one time entered my mind. Yet when my daughter came and took care of the matter I was very grateful. . . And humbled. I believe I wept with joy when I received that first check and that first book of food stamps. I praised the Lord. What I began to receive disability checks from Social Security and to this current time, I still praise him.

Along with my disability benefits came weekly visits to my home by a local psychologist. He came faithfully for almost two full years or perhaps longer before he gave up on me. He was a wonderful doctor, very understanding, and he tried to help me overcome the panic attacks. I suppose in the end he gave up on me because he stopped coming to see me.

Once more, it was just me and the Lord.

Even though I had the attacks of panic, the Lord still continued to reveal things to me. The fact that I no longer sensed his presence did not stop his communicating with me. I recall one day when I was still in my mobile home, he showed me hell.

At the time I was on my sofa, looking out the window, meditating on his mighty names . . . Jehovah Rapha, Jehovah Nissi, Jehovah Shalom. . . I was trying to memorize the names and their meanings. As I looked out the window I formed a rainbow in my mind. Then starting at one end of the rainbow I would place one of his 'Jehovah' names. . Then another and another, until I had filled the rainbow from end to end with His names.

I had perhaps performed the mental exercise a time or two when the Lord suddenly interrupted with a swift vision. The rainbow completely faded, then I saw the fires of hell. This time there was no mistaking the fact that I was indeed seeing hell. The vision took place as follows:

I saw the Lord Jesus and myself standing on a rocky ledge which overlooked a sea of fire. A tremendous sadness gripped me and I began to weep, both in the vision and also in reality. Through my tears I could see the Lord weeping as he stood beside me on the ledge. It was the deepest, most devastating grief I had ever known.

Just as the vision of his return had produced joy and happiness quite indescribable; the vision of hell produced heartbreak and sadness equally indescribable.

The deep, deep grief overwhelmed my soul and just when I thought it to be more than I could stand, a most unusual thing happened. To the right of where the Lord and I were standing, I could see something began to move along the ledge.

I want to stop here for a moment and compare the two emotions. First the emotion of total bliss, total joy I experienced during the vision of the Lord's return and then the total heartbreak, total devastation during this vision. They are so far apart words cannot describe the vast range of feelings I experienced during the two visions.

In the vision of the Lord's return I thought my heart would burst for joy; but in the vision of seeing hell I felt as if my heart would burst beneath the weight of sorrow.

Was one vision more real to me than the other? No - not really. They both were equally real, but because of the difference in the settings the vision of the Lord's return has always had priority in my mind and heart.

But I can not minimize the vision of hell because the Lord allowed the glory of his return to be shown to me. He had a purpose in showing me the fires of hell. I have concluded that the purpose was that I could include it in this book. Ultimately it will assist me in making 'The vision (of his return) plain.'

But to get back to the recording of the hell vision accurately - and as I stated I could see something began to move along the ledge. At first I didn't know what it was, but as it started its downward glide toward the fire, I recognized it. It was a huge brown wooden cross. I watched as it dropped with a kind of splash into the flames beneath.

Hell itself resembled an endless ocean of fire. The flames would swell into huge waves, then rise and fall, spewing out flashes of fire. As far as I could see nothing existed but rolling flames.

As the wooden cross dropped into the flames it began to drift away from the ledge. It did not sink, nor did it burn. I watched it rise and fall atop the swells somewhat like a buoy.

Immediately upon seeing the cross floating on the waves of fire, something happened in my soul. My tears were suddenly dried and my grief evaporated. I looked up into the Lord's face and he smiled down at me. I, too, began to smile. Then we turned away from the ledge and began to walk toward the brilliant light of the heavenly city.

The vision faded away and I whispered. "Nobody has to go there. " I understood that the cross alone, the sacrifice of Christ Jesus, was the only thing that stood between mankind and hell. Nothing else. I began to understand why the apostle Paul was determined to 'Glory only in the cross; to know nothing but Christ Jesus and him crucified.' There simply is nothing else to know.

Did I see anyone in the lake of fire? No, I only saw the fire and not the tormented souls of those who refuse God's gift of eternal life. Recalling the depth of the grief which gripped my soul upon seeing the fires of hell, I knew that I did not want anyone, anywhere, to go there. I also knew that no one had to go there. That cross rising and falling amid the fiery swells impressed into my mind and heart a picture I shall never forget.

Since that day I've wondered many times why it is that if the Almighty God, creator of all, isn't willing that any should perish, but that all come to repentance; why then are we, mere mortals, so eager and anxious to assign individuals, groups, nations to the fires of hell. I began to pray, "Lord Jesus, please let the members of your body see that vision of hell. Please allow them to experience the same measure of grief and horror I felt. " I thought if he would do that then we would be less inclined to speak of hell in such careless terms and we would be extremely careful before assigning anyone a place there. To date I don't think that prayer has been answered but he may yet do so. It is still all on his altar or held in the vial of prayers.

Before my trailer was repossessed the Lord would sometimes speak to me out of the blue - short swift statements with no explanation. I remember one day as I walked down my hallway, he said:

"All cancer is caused by allergy."

No explanation followed and no debate was allowed. Since I was a nurse I wanted to ask questions, something prevented me from doing so. I could either accept or reject the statement. Since I believed it was the Lord who spoke, I accepted it.

In another one of his blunt statements, he said:

"I don't need television."

I was startled by the anger in His voice. The words seemed to reverberate off the walls. And again I didn't know what to make of his word, esspecially since Christian TV boomed day and night. I, personally, had found it to be a help. But, if he said he didn't need it, then he most certainly didn't need it. I've come to learn that God uses many things, but he needs nothing.

Now, after many years, I see what has happened to the gospel on television and I understand his ire.

Several years back, one of the leaders of Christian TV shared on the air a vision or dream he had. It went as follows:

He said he saw himself in a room, kind of like a control room composed mainly of mirrors or rather, windows. Outside the windows was only darkness. Then something caused the windows to crack and break, the glass crashing into the room. Next could be seen a man's face which loomed large at one of the windows. The man telling the dream been stated, "If I ever see that man I'll know him to be an enemy of Christian television." (Or words to that effect.)

However I knew it was not the correct interpretation so I asked, "Lord Jesus, what is he really seeing. . . What does that dream mean?"

The Lord stated simply:

"That's the world coming in."

In the years since that day I've come to understand that answer. 'Canned applause' 'canned laughter', slick Madison Avenue gadgetry have no place surrounding the spread of the gospel. The Lord doesn't need his ego uplifted by deceit, nor does he need sly marketing campaigns to fill his treasure chest.

I know the exact moment the Holy Spirit in power left this network because I was watching when it happened. That night the program was "Live" and the host was also the singer. And it was obvious that the host could hardly wait for the guest (s) to shut up so that he could get up and belt up his diaphragm and bellow out a tune.

However that particular night the Holy Spirit was present upon one of the guests, and moving in a gentle prophetic breeze. I sensed the healing power of God and I knew that miracles were in the immediate future for many people who were watching their television, seeing the program.

Suddenly the host interrupted the move of God. He cut off the guest and within moments was up singing to the top of his voice. He didn't have a clue as to what had just happened.

The Holy Spirit left, just as he left Samson and few, if any, knew it. To this date I don't think he's returned in power. That network is now grinding at the world's gristmill.

Perhaps, like Samson, when the network is crumbling beneath the weight of worldliness, the Holy Spirit will come back one last time and the ingathering of souls in its collapse will be more than in its heyday.

Another time while watching Christian television the Lord showed me something quite dramatic. I was seeing a close-up view of a prominent spiritual leader when a wound, much like a bullet wound, began to appear in the middle of his forehead, right between the eyes. I watched dumbfounded as the blood flowed down the man's face. Several moments passed as I stared at this severely wounded man, then the picture returned to normal.

I sat speechless. I didn't even ask the Lord the meaning of what I had just seen; not that he would have told me. As earlier stated in this writing, many times the Lord shows or tells me something without explanation, or revelation at the time. Often it takes days, weeks, months and even years before the meaning becomes clear.

The most shattering experience while watching television happened one day when Mikhail Gorbachev, leader of the Soviet Union, visited the United States. As I sat watching the television, a deep sadness began to well up inside me, and I began to weep. I had no idea why I was weeping except I was, and I couldn't help it, nor could I stop the flow of tears.

As I watched a close-up of the Communist leader, suddenly the birthmark on his head rose up in the form of a red horse, then galloped right out of the screen into my living room. Then the horse disappeared and the birthmark returned to normal.

The sadness which overwhelmed me completely, made me weep in body racking spasms. I wept that way for many minutes, before the horrible sadness lifted from my soul.

I sat baffled. What had I seen? Why was I sad? Where did those tears come from? Then within a few days of seeing that red horse I had a dream of seeing myself and members of my family hiding in tall grass while enemy soldiers trampled the area close by us. I could see that the soldiers were dark skinned - Latinos, Cubans, men of Latin descent. It was frightening, hiding from that foreign army. I remember they stepped so close to us, I could see the boots they wore. When I awoke, I didn't know how the Red horse and a foreign army were connected, but I knew somehow that they were.

And that leads me to the most horrifying, the most frightening vision I've ever received from the Lord. It took place not long after the vision of his return; I believe within a period of months.

On that particular night and I had gone to bed quite late. As I closed my eyes to go to sleep, it was as if a thick black curtain covered my mind. It became totally black. A coldness covered me and I became very frightened. At the onset I began to beg, "Oh Lord, make it go away. "

Eyes opened or closed, there was nothing but blackness. Then suddenly in the midst of the blackness I could see the formation of something red. When it was completely formed it began to roll forward. I recognized it to be a blood clot, just one clot. The absolute terror I felt can not be described. My first question was, "Oh Jesus! Is that my blood?" It rolled on forward through the darkness.

Paralyzed with fear, I tried to move, I tried to shake my head to clear the image from my mind. I could do neither. Then, I saw another blood clot form, then another, and another, more and more blood clots forming, then rolling forward out of the blackness. I was reduced to crying out "Oh God! Oh God!" The terror was more than I could bear.

Then, suddenly the perimeter expanded, and the dark curtain lifted somewhat. I could see the blood clots were sweeping in to shore on ocean waves. I could see it was the east coast line of Florida. I watched as the ocean turned blood red and blood clots gather in huge numbers on the shoreline of Florida . . . until there was no sand to be seen, rather, only pile after pile of blood clots. I cried out again, "Oh God!"

The vision began to fade away and I lay trembling, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was then that the Holy Spirit spoke:

"Go get your Bible. "

I obeyed immediately. Shaking all over I got out of my bed and walked to my living room. After turning on the light I picked up my Bible from the coffee table and sat down on the couch.

The Holy Spirit then said:

"Read Revelation, Chapter eight. "

I did as he commanded and read the eighth chapter of Revelation. Verse 8 pierced my heart. After finishing the chapter, I closed my Bible, put it back on the coffee table, then got up and went back to bed. I was still very shakened. I could not, nor did I attempt to interpret or understand what I had just seen or read. It was too high for me. I just wanted to go to sleep and forget it. That wasn't an easy thing for me that night. I was afraid to close my eyes for fear I would see it again.

The years passed. Occasionally I would recall the horrible vision of the blood clots, but never dwelled on it. I had no further understanding other than the instructions of the Holy Spirit to read the eighth chapter of Revelation.

Then one day while I was praying in late '93 or early '94 (I can't say for sure), the Lord showed me a picture of a map of Bosnia and the surrounding area. I watched as a fountain of blood burst forth on the map and cover Bosnia. Then the blood began to flow over the land into the sea. I followed it as it spread across the Mediterranean Sea, then out into the Atlantic ocean. On and on the blood spread, changing the blue-green ocean to deep blood red.

I gasped as the Lord showed me waves of blood spitting huge blood clots onto the coast of Florida. I understood I was seeing the end of a vision which began almost ten years earlier. As I write these words there is a false peace in Bosnia and thousands of American soldiers there on the ground. It is a "bought" peace, purchased by Caesar. Although the war to date has been confined to that area, the ingredients are now present for it to spread as the Lord Jesus showed me in those two visions which took place years apart.

And now on to another conversation which took place while I still lived in my trailer. It took place one Friday night as I sat watching the television show 20/20.

A group of young people, predominantly black youth, were being interviewed. There was this one young black teenager who carried a huge jam-box on his shoulder. When he sat down to talk with the reporter the camera caught a close-up of his young face. My attention focused on his eyes. They were the most expressionless, empty, lifeless eyes I had ever seen. His eyes looked old and weary with no sign of youth at all in them.

I whispered, "Lord, what's wrong with that child?" The Lord answered immediately:

"He doesn't know that I love him. "

I cried as I watched the remainder of the interview. I felt both the failure of myself and the failure of the American Church. In my mind I could see large church doors locked and barred while the poor, homeless, lost, wandered about outside.

How easy it is to raise a million dollars for an organ so that its sweet music will make us feel warm, cozy and close to God. While we sit on padded pews with our feet resting in plush carpet and we stare out expensive stained-glass windows, many, if not most, of the nation's youth have never heard the words - "God loves you. " The very fact that a child can grow up in this country without hearing the gospel, speaks volumes about us as Christians in America. However, it's not surprising since only a relatively few among us have a deep abiding burden for the lost souls in this land. Most of us have been, and are, satisfied with the status quo and prefer that it continue on uninterrupted.

If we can throw a little money at the problem, then our conscience is soothed. How many times have we heard words to this effect:

"The Lord doesn't expect you to go out to the mission fields yourself, so pay us your money and will do it for you. And the best part is this - whatever number of souls we gather into the fold, the Lord will credit to your account in heaven."

I am guilty of biting that apple. I sent money here and there, hoping to build up my account in heaven. That is not to say that we are not to support the spread of the gospel. We are indeed to support as the Lord leads us with the sure knowledge the only effort that will bear fruit to our account are those activities initiated and maintained by the Holy Spirit. We are to be the earthen vessels through which the Lord pours his work.

During the sixties when God came into disfavor with the masses. . . When the headlines read: God is dead. . . The government began to exalt itself with much vigor, attempting to fill the void which appeared in many souls. It openly sought the trust, dependence, and worship of the citizens. And how this nation has suffered since that time. The knowledge of the True God was exchanged for the delusion of an ever-expanding beast. And now this beast, this false god, has become a huge devouring monster with fifty heavy tentacles which reach out to choke the life from its prey of states.

And who is there working hand-in-hand at the altar of this false god . . . Marching, lobbying, begging, pleading. . . Yes, Christians. In the end they will find that their efforts were in vain for their task is much like trying to convert Satan - not a good use of one's time. If Christians filled every office in Washington D.C. they could not change the nature of government. They might alter the activities, but beneath the changes in the action, the nature would remain unchanged. And once the Christian were gone, the activities would again revert so as to reflect the true nature again and again and again.

One might wonder how I can write with such harshness about the very source of my present financial support? That's easy. . . Because it is true. This evil government is the enemy of each man, woman, boy, girl, and baby (especially baby). Left to its own devices it would control completely, then crush beneath its power, every person in this land. God's hand alone has thus far prevented this from happening, but if the Lord ever lifts his restraint from this beast - watch out!

For an example, look closely at one part of this three-headed beast--the Supreme court. This is a body of people who for the past fifty years have been at war with God on every front; from taking prayers out of schools to the taking of the lives of the unborn children of this land. And yet, they have the gall to begin their session with these words: "God save this honorable court."

As best I can discern, the God of heaven has so far ignored this petition of the court. But, what if one day, he should hear these five words, and answer? How many of the nine justices would he need to convert or strike dead on the spot in order to save the court. How will he deal with a group of people who have the blood of fifty million lost lives on their hands, not counting the additional millions of young lives which have been destroyed by the godless public school system?

What excuses will they give when they stand before him? What excuse did Adolf Hitler give for the millions of lives he destroyed? What excuse do the justices, who have died along the way of national decline, give when they stood before him? What excuse does anyone give God for their actions which destroyed a nation?

"God save this honorable court". . . One day He will hear these words and woe be to the black-robed ones who sit in judgment over this land.

And the 'Woe' won't be only to the Supreme Court but also to the Congress and the White House. No one head of the three-headed monster can bear all the burden of the nation's demise. It was a joint effort and the results can be divided equally among the three branches of the government. . . And the people who put them there. All are guilty

There was a second American revolution which took place in the 1960's and God's people stayed home in comfort and complacency. Little did they realize the high cost the nation's youth and unborn would pay because they avoided the battle.

Is it too late?

Yes, it is much too late to alter the course of this nation. However, it's not too late to let America's children know that God loves them.

The Lord Jesus told us in plain words that the end times would be like Noah's times and Lot's times. We have definitely arrived at those times. How much longer the Lord will put up with us, only he knows.

It took Him almost twelve years to bring me to the place so that I could by his grace and guidance, write this book. . . Years full of heartbreak and torment. And yet, here I am . . . writing. He told me to 'Write the vision and make it plain', then he dealt with me these many years so that it could happen according to his will and his timing.

During these long years of isolation the Lord did not leave me without teachers. Before I became homebound, when I could still drive, I collected a large number of books by various authors, many of which I did not have time to read. But once I became isolated these authors became my teachers. As I read and studied, the number of teachers narrowed to a few favorites. They were Watchman Nee, Andrew Murray, Charles H. Spurgeon, and perhaps my favorite one of all, Charles Jubilee Rolls with his five volumes on the Names of Christ Jesus. I read many others but these became my professors of theology. As a whole, I had found it easier to read and understand man's writing rather than read and understand the scriptures.

Early on when I decided to read the Bible from start to finish the biggest obstacle I faced was the translations. I had the NIV, NAJB, New Oxford, New Jerusalem, the Living Bible, Phillips New Testament and of course the King James Bible. I had study Bibles and commentaries such as Scoffield and others. I had concordances, Strong's and others. I had Hebrew and Greek texts and dictionary. I had a wide array to choose from daily. Most of the time all these choices overwhelmed me and I left them all on the shelf.

I finally read the NIV through completely only to discover at the conclusion I could hardly recall anything I had read. The same problem proved true with the others until I decided to read the King James. Then a fierce struggle began. Every excuse imaginable popped into my head - it's too hard to read, too difficult to comprehend, too outdated, and on and on the reasons not to read the K J would come into my mind. And yet whenever I read it I discovered that I could recall the words and memorize the verses. And it had a beauty, a holiness about it that the others did not have.

After years of the battle I finally inquired of the Lord. "Lord," I said, "I have all these Bibles and I know they are not all the same. One has to be the right one and I want you to tell me which one is so that I can lay all the others aside." I was weary of the years of confusion and struggle.

He lead me directly to the King James Authorized Version. The battle over translations had ended for me.

Then I realized something I had not ever considered prior. Looking back over my every encounter with the Lord, when he would direct me to "get my Bible" it was always the King James I picked up. He has never spoken to me through any other translation - not once. And that's not to say he can't; only to say he hasn't.