Day 2 – Short Circuit (Part 1)

Readers, I would like to take a brief note to thank you for your patience. You have stuck with me through over 60 incredibly verbose blog posts, missed deadlines, and sometimes me dropping off the face of the blogging earth for months at a time–yet hear you are, your beautiful eyes gracing my eager journalism. You bless me big. Thank you.

Read Day 1 here. Want to know what Power Surge is? Click here!

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After sleeping horribly with terrible dreams, I woke up bright and early at 6 and slunk into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee (Emily’s family always has the best coffee) and read my Bible before the morning got busy.

Before long, Mark lumbered into the kitchen as well and started moving around to get his breakfast and lunch ready. We talked about how good God is (an endless topic, to be sure). I got the chance to sozo/shabar Mark a bit, and it was absolutely cool because when he pictured a little boy, he saw a porcelain doll of a little Dutch boy. Holy Spirit saw that I was puzzled at this unusual description, so He whispered to me, “It’s like Pinocchio.”

We asked father God what the little boy needed, and His response was, “He needs to be brought to life…like Pinocchio.”

Talk about confirmation! It was so awesome! I got a little bit further in my Sozo tools, but then Mark left for work and I read some Bible.

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Emily and I went to the church a little bit later to drop off sleeping bags and meet the new interim pastor, Stephen. His 18-year-old daughter, Eryca, was there also. Instantly, I fell in love with both of them. They are as loud as I am, always smiling, and can’t seem to go two minutes without talking about how amazing God is.

Emily and I met with Eryca for about an hour where we shared testimonies. I was impressed and inspired by Eryca’s story and how her parents raised her into her identity. She shines so freely! I shared our testimony of God’s faithfulness coming through for our wedding in September, and it was a golden-apple-timely-word of confirmation for Eryca and her family, that I had no idea they even needed! We had a wonderful time, I got to sing over her, and Holy Spirit was ridiculously heavy on all three of us.

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Best. Game. Ever.

After scrambling to get the rest of everything we needed for the retreat, it was go time. 5 o’ clock rolled around and kids started showing up, one by one. I was anxiously waiting for Levi to get off work and drive down to Vancouver, but in the meantime I ate dinner and played games with the kids, getting a chance to get acquainted with them.

I fell fast in love with all of them, particularly Sammy.
Sammy is thirteen years old. He is one of the most optimistic people I have ever met in my life. He’s affectionate, loves games, and absolutely LOVES praying when it’s time to bless a meal.

But if you saw a picture of him, that probably wouldn’t be the first conclusion you’d jump to. Sammy was diagnosed six months ago with bone cancer when a sports physical to clear him for football season revealed a tumor in his knee. Sammy has gone through 40 weeks of chemotherapy, and now that his hair is gone, he prides himself on bearing a close resemblance to Voldemort.

When we were getting in line for dinner, I was just behind him when he asked loudly, “Who wants to pray for me?”

Very seriously, I looked him in the eye and said, “I would love to pray for you. What would you like prayer for?”

Sammy gave me a hard look and said, “What do you think? I’ve got cancer.”

“I know,” I replied, still being absolutely dead serious. “But I don’t want to think of you as just Sammy with cancer. I want to think of you as my friend Sammy, who has cancer for the time being but probably has a lot of other things he’d like prayer for as well.” I told him that I didn’t want to have our relationship revolve around the temporary fact of his disease. I think that really impacted him, because afterward he didn’t say any more, but sat with me at dinner.

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I left early to prepare songs for worship, and Levi showed up just when I was getting super anxious about when he was going to get there. Sweet relief! The youth group filed in for worship and Levi and I began the first song, with me leading on guitar and Levi singing backup while doing some sweet rhythms on a bongo. We were seated on the steps of the stage, at eye level with the group, who sat in a semicircle of chairs around the stage.

The music was great, I was singing my heart out…

Then I stopped. And started talking to the group. My heart was pounding and my mind was screaming WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? because I was going against every performance inclination I’d rehearsed; but I needed to make something very clear.

“Is this what you need?” I asked, taking the time to look each and every one of them in the eye. “Because if this isn’t what you need, we can do something else. We are here for you. It’s not the other way around. And we don’t want to come up here in front of you and go through the motions for the three days that we have together with you, then go home feeling good about ourselves while leaving you with absolutely nothing.”

It was silent in the sanctuary as they realized I was serious, then one or two of them spoke up and said, “This is what we need.”

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So we continued. And we worshiped our little hearts out. I stopped again after the second song to share a word that Holy Spirit put on my heart about a sacrifice of praise in even the worst circumstances and situations, and then Levi and I taught them “One Thing Remains” by Jesus Culture. It felt like we sang it forever, yet it felt like we didn’t sing long enough.

We moved into the youth room to transition into “lesson time.” I had no idea what to give a “lesson” on, and I wasn’t feeling any promptings from Holy Spirit, so I just started to tell my testimony. Little did I realize, the majority of my audience were 13-to-15-year-olds with attention spans that short-circuited very easily. Not even fifteen minutes into my story, I was losing them.

If you want to find out what happened next, follow and subscribe to the blog, and don’t forget to Like the Facebook page!  See ya next post!

Repossess My City

There is an awesome event going on in Olympia called Repossess. It was started either my freshman or sophomore year of high school, and has been growing exponentially ever since. A common catch phrase for Repossess, as listed above in the title, is “Repossess My City,” or “Taking Back Our City.” I never questioned that slogan before, but I’m glad one of my friends did. He’s been asking around on Facebook for a while–“What is Repossess trying to ‘take our city back’ from?”

It took quite a bit of praying and searching my own heart to find an answer that satisfied me. I’d heard people answer, “Satan!” or “from demons and evil spirits!” but that didn’t really resonate with me, because that wasn’t what I felt those people on stage who were speaking or worshiping were trying to communicate. Here is my answer:

I think the personal answer I feel strongest about is that so many people in our community feel hopelessly helpless over their own lives. Even if we restrict that “people” qualifier to just youth ages 12-19, I know personally my life was hell for most of those years. My family, my feelings, my relationships–EVERYTHING I was involved with was so out of control for me.

The first Repossess I went to was the one that came to Tumwater. It had been a horrendous week; the Saturday before, I got the phone call that one of my classmates had killed himself. I’d never experienced anything like that before and I had no idea how to handle it. The rest of the week was a haze until Friday, when I had Subdistrict competitions for Swim team, Sean’s memorial service, and Repossess all in the same day. I almost didn’t go. I was this close not to going. But I went, because I needed hope SO bad.

At first it was painfully awkward because I was not Christian…as in, AT ALL. I hated church, hated God, hated anybody who had anybody to say about any of it. So the singing and the raising of hands and that weird peer pressurey atmosphere was just weird for me and uncomfortable and I did not like it…it didn’t do anything for me.

But then our principal got up and spoke, broke down in tears several times during his message, and shared the most glowing heart of compassion for Sean’s friends and family and our community in grief. That was what touched me, was someone who cared THAT much. I don’t even remember the message. I have no idea what he said, but what stuck with me was just this deep, deep love that I had never felt from anybody before. How vulnerable our principal was when he got up in front of us. He wasn’t the peppy, charismatic public speaker he usually was in front of us at assemblies or announcements, but he was so real and so down-to-earth with us. That impacted me so much and has stayed with me ever since.

So…I don’t know if that answers the question. But Repossess came into my life at a time when I desperately needed it, and it kept me going. It’s impacting hundreds and thousands of young people’s lives, and giving them hope–something our communities are sadly deficient in and probably wouldn’t even know how to define if asked. And I don’t mean that derogatorily–we have these words that we have really vague definitions for, like love and hope and peace and joy, all .these things that are supposed to be so big and important and intense, yet so difficult to grasp.

Day 1 – Behind the Scenes

Thursday morning, I got on a train to head down to Vancouver.

Levi stayed behind to do two more days of money making, and dropped me off at 7:30 on his way to work. He had just driven out of sight when I saw the sign on the door that said the station wasn’t going to be open until 8:30. I had read my ticket wrong! Instead of my train being at 8:10, it was scheduled for 8:50. There was nobody inside the station yet, and nobody in the parking lot.

So I went around to the side of the building and huddled in a ball, turning my laptop on so it could at least keep my legs warm. I was determined to grin and bear it and have a good two hours of cold solitude.

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…Or not. Within 10 minutes of adjusting to my plight, the door swung open to my right and a friendly face peered out. His name was John, and he volunteered as the agent for the Lacey Amtrak station. He smiled broadly and invited me to come inside. Heaving a sigh of relief, I scrambled to get my things together and hurried inside behind him. Oh, to be warm again! Blessed relief!

It turned out, John was considering not coming in early that morning. He was considering waiting until about 8:20 to come and fire up the heat and get everything going. But he had decided to come in early anyway. Hmmm…

Miracle #1, duly noted.

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I had a wonderfully uneventful 2 hour train ride down to Vancouver, which gave me time just to think about how ridiculously good God is and listen to prophetic words from 2010 (which were spectacular, by the way).

Fro-yo...om nom nom.

The rest of the afternoon was pleasant and sleepy. Gail picked me up at the station, got me coffee, and then we went shopping until late afternoon. We picked Emily up at some point and went to get fro-yo…nothing terribly exciting. When we were all together at the house and Emily’s dad, Mark, was getting everything ready for dinner, Holy Spirit nudged me to ask Mark if he had ever been disciplined with a blow to the head.

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I was reluctant to ask straight out, so I asked what his mom was like. This led to him telling me that he and his mom weren’t really involved in each other’s lives during his childhood, that she had been involved in many other relationships and marriages. He had mostly been raised by his grandmother—who I then learned was a very strict Catholic, who wouldn’t hesitate to take a cane to little Mark’s head in the incident of disobedience.

I shared a smile with Holy Spirit, marveling at how He somehow knows everything (like I should be surprised at this point). Then I tucked that information away for future deliverance purposes. I had full intentions of sozoing him at some point that weekend.

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After dinner, we only had about half an hour before Dawn and Jim, the other leaders for the retreat, were going to get there. I seized the opportunity to snag Emily. We went into her room and I shared some frustrations with her that I was having, just with things I was picking up and not knowing how to deal with and give to Holy Spirit. So we prayed, and then I got to do a little bit of sozo on her (it was glorious!! Holy Spirit got a lot done in only 20 minutes). Then it was time to have our staff meeting.

Dawn and Jim are spectacular; that’s all I’m gonna say. At first I had a hard time letting my walls down and just being vulnerable, but once I started asking questions and trying to see their heart for the youth and for that weekend, I just fell in love with them. They are incredible people and have gone through so much. (Keep an eye out for a guest blog from Jim in the future, by the way!) God is so big in them and I can’t wait to tell you all more about them as the testimonies of the weekend go on.

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After the staff meeting, Emily and I rendezvoused in her room again. I started spacing out and pretty much just being a zombie on my laptop browsing Facebook, but a little movement out of the corner of my eye startled me back into reality. Can you imagine what it was?

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen—it was a hobo spider. Those of you who have known me personally for a while know that I had the immense privilege of being bitten by a hobo spider a year ago. It was in my sleep. And it ended up turning black and I couldn’t walk and I was in tremendous pain and all sorts of gory things happened to me. I still have a gnarly scar to prove it.

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So this reunion with my dear friend the hobo spider totally freaked me out. I was paralyzed by fear, and all I could do was call out for someone to come and kill it for me. Mark came to my rescue, but I was still horribly shaken afterward. As I started getting ready for bed, I entered intense warfare against a spirit of fear trying to close around my heart. I prayed and prayed and prayed and declared peace over myself…but it followed me to bed anyway. I had terrible, skewed dreams about how I was afraid camp would turn out, and I didn’t get restful sleep at all.

That's how I felt when the alarm went off...

But Jesus.

And you’ll find out more about that from tomorrow’s post, so stay tuned! Because tomorrow begins the first day of actual youth camp…day 1 of Power Surge. And that was when God started showing up in a BIG way.

Power Surge 2012 – An Introduction

Last weekend, Levi and I had the privilege of going down to Vancouver to speak at a youth retreat for a Free Evangelical Church.

It was ridiculously awesome.

Just to give you some background, the church has recently gone through an enormous upheaval in leadership. They are dusting off the debris of destructive doctrine and stepping into a new season of romance with God. They have a new interim pastor and his family who moved recently from Michigan, and with them they brought a double dose of Holy Spirit! (Can you tell I’m excited?)

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Levi and I went down with explicit instructions from Holy Spirit—we were not to prepare a message. Our charge was simply to prepare ourselves. Easy enough, right? Take into mind what E.M. Bounds says about this in his book, “Power Through Prayer:”

The character  as well as the fortunes of the gospel is committed to  the preacher.  He makes or mars the message from God to man. The preacher is the  golden pipe through which the divine oil flows. The pipe must  not only be  golden, but open and flawless, that the oil may have  a full, unhindered,  unwasted flow.

The man makes the preacher.  God must make the man. The  messenger is, if possible, more than  the message. The preacher is more than the  sermon. The preacher  makes the sermon. As the life-giving milk from the mother’s  bosom  is but the mother’s life, so all the preacher says is tinctured,  impregnated by what the preacher is. The treasure is in earthen  vessels, and the  taste of the vessel impregnates and may discolor.  The man, the whole man, lies  behind the sermon. Preaching is not  the performance of an hour. It is the  outflow of a life. It takes  twenty years to make a sermon, because it takes  twenty years to  make the man. The true sermon is a thing of life. The sermon  grows  because the man grows. The sermon is forceful because the man is  forceful. 

The sermon is holy because the man is holy. The sermon  is full of the divine  unction because the man is full of the divine  unction.

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The first time I picked up this book, I couldn’t get past those few paragraphs. They have haunted me for about six months, following my every move. And when we were invited to go to the youth retreat and speak, the call to rise to this standard grew louder, and louder, and louder. At first, I resisted just as loudly: “NO God, I don’t want to do that. I want to write a sermon and make it simple for the kids.” Then I turned around and said, “Holy Spirit, what do you want me to talk about?” And He kept bringing me back to this. It was truly a vicious cycle. For about two months, I wouldn’t budge.

Then I relented. As soon as I gave in and lifted the entire retreat up to Him, He came in and started a deep, deep work in me.

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There were weeks where every single night, just as I was about to go to sleep, He would bring to the surface a very painful memory of bitterness or offense in my life. I would lay in bed and soak my pillow with tears while my heart cried. Some nights, Levi was awake and held me to comfort me in my sorrowful repentance as I faced things I had locked away in the closets of my memory. Other nights, it was just me and Papa God, Him holding me as I cried and cried and cried…and then would come the peace and the rest, only to repeat the process the following night with another memory.

Levi and I faced challenges in our own relationship that we needed to work out, and it took running into the arms of wise counselors to find peace in that area. God spoke to both of us about prioritizing our time, and asked us to lay down distractions that we were very reluctant to let go of at first.

But every moment of it was worth it. There was intense testing, blue-hot fires, and tremendous pressure that demanded equally tremendous sacrifice…but it was all worth it. Because every single thing He brought me through was accompanied by His tender reminder that it was all for the sake of the kids we were going to be speaking to at the retreat. He said, “They are worth enough to me to do this.”

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So my response was to fling my arms open and cry out for Him to come closer and burn me all the more. I prayed dangerous, scary prayers like, “God, I want the growth that would normally take years—and I want it now. I want all of you, no matter what it takes.” He heard and honored my prayer.

So many people sowed into the retreat with their prayer and encouragement over Levi and I, and I knew we were being specially anointed for this trip. As the days counted down, I felt the strangest mix of peace and great anticipation, excitement to see everything that God would do!

And He certainly did not disappoint. He was manifest powerfully in His love and His passion over each and every one of us! My life was changed by Him and what He’s doing in each one of the youth we got to spend the weekend with. He brought me toe-to-toe with my greatest fears and my longest-standing chicken lines several times every day, and gave me the choice to turn around and go back to where it was safe. But He also gave me the courage to face my chicken lines and run at them with everything I had—what relief! What reward! What breakthrough!

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The posts following this are an account of the glorious things God did for us that weekend. I hope you claim the promises, the breakthrough, and the spectacular power of the testimonies contained inside!

Pastor Mark: God’s Payoff

Mark Chafe, a pastor of Grace Ministries in East Africa, takes occasional breaks from transforming the culture of Uganda by blogging and Tweeting his creative, inspired and anointed insights.

After crossing paths a few weeks ago on Twitter, I saw that he had a testimony for a new job offer. I was ecstatic and asked him to write up a feature for Grace Notes’ Testimonies section.

Little did I know that this is more than just a praise report for a new job offer; this is the testimony of a Daniel who defied the popular vote and chose obedience over security.

This is his story.
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Choosing to make the right decision can seem very expensive.  Many times in my walk with God I have had to stand alone in decision making—none more so than as a pastor.

I used to pastor a small city Church that had a group of lovely people.

They were supportive, friendly, Bible believing and welcoming.  All these things are important ingredients for growth, yet somehow they had remained small for a number of years and the numbers were still in decline when I came to pastor.  Together, with God’s help, we stopped the decline and managed to raise the numbers slightly, but hit a wall that was, it seemed, impossible to overcome.
I am a great believer in prayer and its power. So I asked the rest of the leadership to join me in a time of prayer and fasting to see what God would reveal as the blockage to growth.  God spoke very clearly to me at the end of our time, listing four specific things that needed to happen for the Church to grow.

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Some of the things He showed me were practices and traditions that needed to halt in the church’s practice of them in order for growth to occur. There were ex-leaders in the church who still held responsibilities in spite of not being in a position of active leadership. Secret meetings were being held and decisions being made that affected the entire church. Trustees who were not even members of the church were carrying decision-making responsibilities, and there were even legal issues that compromised my position as acting pastor over the church.

I brought these things before the leadership team, who ultimately decided that they wanted to hold onto these things that God had revealed as error and a hindrance to His work in the church.  Being the very nice people that they are, they tried to accommodate me by saying I could still pastor them and not believe or adhere to the things that they described were an historical part of their heritage.

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My conscience and desire to be obedient to what God had said would not allow me to compromise what I knew to be right; I resigned my position and moved on.  This of course had serious consequences for us as a family, especially in the area of finances, as we now had no income at all.

Knowing that God has promised to meet all our needs according to His riches in Glory, we were not worried about the situation and used up our savings and our building fund (our house is still not finished) and continued to believe that God will always make a way where there seems to be no way.

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Does that mean that I have never questioned my decision?  Has it always been easy to be cheerful about our situation? Has the devil not whispered in my ear more than once, “Boy, you got that one wrong didn’t you, If only you compromised..!”  There have been times I have fought off bouts of depression and panic attacks after being turned down for the hundreds of jobs I have applied for.

I have felt like giving up or running away—but that still, small voice of God always breaks through and brings the peace that my circumstances have no control over, but is wholly dependent on who He is.

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My decision has cost us everything we had financially, but we have gained so much more in seeing His provision for us as a family and the knowledge that He is truly able to keep that which is entrusted to Him.

I have just been offered a job after only 12 months unemployed, which a miracle in itself that I must share. I applied for a specific job and got a phone call from the agency handling the application. The lady on the phone started describing the position that was available. The position was not what I had applied for. I tried to stop her and explain that there must have been some mistake, but she continued to describe the position. She said it was perfect for me—even though she didn’t know me and had never even seen my CV . Who am I to argue when God is controlling the situation?

So I let her continue, and again to cut a long story short, I have been offered this position for which I thank God!

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There are some words from a song that come to mind, “In His way and in His time, that’s how it’s going to be in my life.”  That is my continual prayer, that I will be patient and obedient to Him always giving Him thanks for all things!

Psoas Healing and a Houdini Headache

No pain no gain? Nah...just no pain. Period.

At clinic last Thursday, the two clients I had were both suffering from severe pain.

The first came hobbling into clinic, in so much pain she could barely move her right leg. Anxious and afraid, she was eager to feel better, but was tentative to believe we could fix her.

She had come to clinic two days prior to receive treatment for mildly painful “pulling” sensations in her right IT band. Her student therapist had done a wonderful job of relaxing the tension, and the client went home pain-free–but the following morning, she woke up with excruciating pain in her psoas, a muscle that lives on the front of the spine whose primary function is to flex the hip.

The iliopsoas, a very important yet often overlooked muscle duo.

As you can probably imagine, not many people know they even have a psoas, so the panic she felt was natural and understandable- “Something I didn’t know existed, is now robbing me of the ability to function properly! Aaaaah!”

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As for me, I was terrified.

The campus director came to me before we started clinic that day to tell me what had happened and what sort of condition my client would be in. She said she had known to assign the client to me because I was the only one of the seven of us student therapists who was good enough to treat her. Somehow, instead of building my confidence, this just heightened my anxiety.

I begged Holy Spirit to come work through me and guide my hands so I wouldn’t cause further damage, but my heart was racing. When it was time to go out and greet my client at 5:30, I slapped on a confident, energetic smile. I knew half my job during my hour with her would be to reassure her and inspire confidence into her that we could make her better.
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My anxiety proved, as usual, to be completely pointless. The session went exceptionally well! She was a wonderful client to work with, very eager and cooperative of the things I asked her to do even through her pain.

By the end of our session, her mobility in her right leg was greatly improved after the massage, and though she still favored the leg on her way out, she was not hobbling severely as she had been on her way in. Her last words to me that night were, “We’ll see how it does in the morning.”

The following morning, I called the school and asked the campus director to let me know if the client called in with a report of how she was doing. I received no call, and spent the next four days anxiously wondering how she was.
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Then, on Tuesday night the following week, I went into clinic as a client to receive massage. After my first session, one of my classmates approached me, saying she had been requested by my client from Thursday and did I have any tips for her?

I was so excited to hear that my client had come back! I hurried to jam my feet into my shoes, and ran out into the lobby to see if the client had arrived–she had!

When she saw me, her face lit up. I asked how she was, and these words came out of her mouth: “It was really miraculous! Between the ice and the psoas work, I was 100% better the next morning!”

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It was really miraculous!…

Whether or not she knew just how right she was, I knew the Lord healed her completely!

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The second client I had come in that night was a regular of mine, who has requested me (!!) consistently for several weeks to be her therapist. Her sessions are usually a pleasant cocktail of relaxation with shoulder focus, and occasionally throwing in techniques specializing on any pain she might be feeling.

That night, she was feeling all right everywhere below the neck—but from the neck up, she was suffering a severe tension headache with level  6/10 pain. Her headache had come on that Monday and had progressed the following four days without getting any better, unaffected by sleep, food, caffeine, or any other external factors.

In my zeal to get started, I told her we would do her normal relaxation massage, starting facedown from the feet and then moving up the legs, hips, back, et cetera. Then I would flip her over, repeat the process, and at the very end I would work on the muscles specifically attributing to her tension headache. I didn’t even bother praying this time, I just thought, “Piece of cake.”

After the session, I mentally smacked myself, realizing I should have focused on releasing her tension first, then moved on to do her normal massage. But Holy Spirit was way ahead of me.

When I came back into the room after letting my client undress and get under the sheets, I undraped her leg, told her to take a deep breath, and went in to make contact with a gentle hold under her left ankle.

My client started and gasped, lifting her head off the table to talk to me.

“My headache completely disappeared as soon as you touched me!”
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Acts 5:15-16 – …So that they brought the sick out into the streets and laid them on beds and couches, that at least the shadow of Peter passing by might fall on some of them. Also a multitude gathered from the surrounding cities to Jerusalem, bringing sick people and those who were tormented by unclean spirits, and they were all healed.  

A Tale of Two Rolls

Testimony time!

I declared to my mom this morning that today signals the start of a season of miracles! But these aren’t your ordinary everyday turn-five-loaves-and-two-fish-to-feed-the-masses miracles, these are miracles you have to look a little harder for.

So I squinted and sought my way through the day looking for miracle #1 (I genuinely hoped it would be a full tank of gas in my car–but that miracle is saved for another day!). When 4:30 came and went and I perceived no miracle, I parked my car outside of my host house, a mite bit disappointed–in myself, for not looking hard enough and being able to see the miracle that had happened.

As I was pondering this and processing the events of my day, sifting each one of them for wondrous signs, I got out my cooler and made myself a sandwich. I counted the pieces of bread I have left, and divided them by the number of meals I need per day for them to last me through the 10th, when I can get food money again. I was slightly dismayed when I realized that the number of days left until I could buy food outnumbered the pieces of bread I had left.

So I prayed: “Daddy, please provide bread.” And then I got out of my car and went about the rest of my evening, (attempting to) study and stay focused on God’s goodness while multitasking on focusing on what exactly the difference is between the humerus’s greater tubercle and lesser tubercle.

And then I got a knock on the door of my room, and my roommate came in with two warm rolls from the restaurant she had just returned from. She gave them to me, I smiled and thanked her, and she left.

A beat.

Then, as I was contentedly munching my warm turkey-and-roll dinner sandwich, I realized: I had my miracle. I prayed for bread and I got two rolls. I could have easily passed it by as just a sweet notion. I could have appreciated the thought and not even remembered my prayer earlier. But I had my eyes open. I was looking, on the hunt for the little things He does.

And let me tell you, that little thing alone boosted my faith and confidence level about a zillion points.

And who knows? Maybe those two rolls WILL feed the multitudes!

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