We had a fabulous birthday party for Ida in a restaurant overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Bob put on his “master of ceremonies” façade and became the life of the party. Ida delighted in his performance and fawned over him, letting his spotlight cascade down on her. At a given moment in the party a boat slowly passed by the window trailing a huge banner saying “Happy 80th Birthday Ida,” and I think her entire eighty years were packaged in that moment, with that banner being the peak of her life. Such a high is destined to bring about an equivalent low.
On Memorial Day we received a phone call at five in the morning. Dan answered. I listened with unnerving anticipation. The Lord told me through many different visions about the future of the family. We’d had two tragic deaths of Dan’s cousin and his son killed in a private plane crash. Sitting in the chapel for their funerals, I asked the Lord who would die next. He said, “Bob and then Ida.” I corrected Him, “Don’t you mean Ida and then Bob?” He didn’t answer, so I knew His response to me was right. Behind me my niece asked that question out loud: who was going to be next. I almost turned around and told her, but fortunately pulled myself into check. I couldn’t say that about her father!
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One morning during my prayer time, I heard the Lord say, “Go to Logos,” so I wrote that in my journal. Knowing the word Logos meant “the Word of God,” I figured He wanted me to read the Bible more, so I beefed up my reading schedule. About a month later, a friend said, “You guys ought to go to Logos.”
I asked what “Logos” was, and she told me it was a Bible School in Oklahoma. It seemed like an enormous step to take, but I did write for information. Dan hated the restaurant business and would have gone to Alaska to work on the pipeline if it would have gotten him out of administration and serving food. However, selling the restaurants, the house, and moving to Oklahoma made him think twice. Giving up my involvement in my church work made me think twice. We asked the Lord for a confirmation. Somewhere in those formative years, God gave me a big vision. At St. Benedicts, during worship, my hands lifted, tears streaming down my cheeks, I heard myself say, “Okay, I’ll go to Grass Valley.” Then I came to my senses and said to Him, “You’ll have to tell me where that is, first.”
The following evening, I attended Concord Christian Center, and while worshipping, another vision descended. I saw a large building formed in the shape of a striking cross. The head of the cross housed an auditorium with 1,500 seats. I saw a succession of Christian stage plays, concerts, and crusades. A cafeteria occupied the leg of the cross, situated in an arm was a bookstore with a coffee shop, which also served as the foyer to the building. The other arm, carved out of a hill of soft rock, contained television studios. I got to prove the Lord’s instruction one evening not long after that late-night movie. I cook out of Gourmet Cookbooks, and I never cook the same thing twice. Dan didn’t like that; although, he never said so directly. He just made comments like, “Did you pull this out of the sewer?” or “What kind of roadkill are we eating tonight?” He got the kids laughing this way, and they would try to top his sarcasm. They were hilarious, those three, except that I enjoyed cooking, and I went to great lengths to cook a good meal, and so I was wounded by their antics. More than once I shed tears over their behavior. Often Dan went into the bathroom and spit his food into the toilet. The kids wanted to do the same, but I wouldn’t let them.
One night, maybe I wasn’t giving him the reaction he wanted, Dan went to the extreme of gagging and emptying his mouth back into his plate. I was standing by the kitchen sink, and I remember looking at him and thinking, “In comparison to God’s love for me, this is nothing.” In fact, for the first time, I wanted to laugh. The second night, after settling into the life of our Camp Farthest Out, the Lord woke me in the middle of the night. “Get your notebook.” I quietly fetched my notebook and pen so as not to wake my aunt. He said, “Write down all the people you need to forgive.”
My pen quivered as I put Dan at the top of the list. After him I thought my list would only number four or five, but when I finished around noon the next day, after a tortured, sleepless night, I had over 1,000 names glaring at me from my notebook. The list included everyone, even my cherished third grade teacher who had humiliated me. Then the Lord said, “Forgive them.” I thought He meant personally go find these people and forgive them. He relieved me by saying I just had to do it in my heart. So I started by saying, “I forgive Dan DuBois.” But I knew I hadn’t, so I said it again. And again. I said it over and over until there was a breaking in my soul and tears came. Each person numbered on my list produced a similar experience. Lugging around a tormented state of mind became more than I could bear, so I attended a Friday Night Healing Service at St. Benedicts, which I will never forget! Normally, I loved this service because of the beautiful Spirit being present. But this night, despair wrapped me in its arms and wouldn’t let go. I went forward for prayer.
The woman assigned to pray for me was the same one who asked God to let me sing like a worshipping angel. She smiled and took my hands. Too tormented to smile back I said, “Ask the Lord to please forgive me for being such an awful person.” She began to pray but stuttered to a stop. “I can’t pray that prayer!” she said. “God loves you just the way you are. Go home and read the Song of Solomon. That is a love letter written just for you.” Filled with an insatiable love for the Lord and gratitude for the friendship of the Holy Spirit, I began praying for two hours every day: a new home, a new life, a new intensity of prayer, surely all things would be made new. Even though I had given up alcohol, knowing it alienated me from the Lord because it grieved Him, Dan continued to drink. Yet he appeared to be making strides. When it came to the church or things of God, Dan seemed to be in the flow. One day, a friend sent me a certain minister’s cassette tape. I said, “Dan, you’ve got to hear this! I want to order every tape this Kenneth Copeland has made.”
Dan said, “Go ahead. Order them.” I thought a couple dozen tapes might arrive, but a truck backed up to our driveway in the cul-de-sac and the driver had to use a dolly to deliver them into the foyer. I listened to them, over 900 of them (!), over and over. So did Dan! Looking through the paper one day, I noticed an ad for a special mass being held at a certain church, and my spirit drew me to attend this service. Simply entering the sanctuary boggled my mind. Hundreds of people harmonized in multiple octaves, singing while holding their hands in the air, worshipping the Lord! I practically stopped breathing in my awe and wonder at the sounds I heard and the ecstasy I witnessed.
Dan whispered, “I don’t know what they’ve got, but I want it.” He led me down the aisle to sit in the second row, most unusual for a confirmed back row man. As Dan and I left the mass, I picked up a notice advertising a weekend retreat revolving around a Renewal of the Holy Spirit taking place at a church in Oakland. My heart palpitated wildly. Was this the Lord speaking to me? The Bay Bridge carried us to the East Bay, because we were hunting for a house to buy. The magnificent scenery surrounding the bridge escaped my awe, as I was driving. Not only that, Dan was back-seat-driving. He told me where to turn, what lane to get in, how fast to go, and he stream-lined his instruction with sarcasm. “No wonder he has high-blood pressure,” I thought. I felt sorry for him, but I felt sorrier for me.
In the middle of the bridge I’d had it. “Dan! Who’s driving?” “You are.” Then leave me alone and let me drive.” I, too, wanted to look over the guardrail on the balcony of heaven to see what was so exciting to the angels. If we’d been a ship where all the passengers suddenly shifted to one side of the boat and looked overboard, we’d all fall in the water! My angel pointed out a large, most handsome angel, also peering down. He said, “That’s Gabriel. The door behind him leads into his office.” Several angels pointed at a certain human and began chattering about him as he walked down the street. Apparently, they could see another angel accompanying the human, who was a particular friend of theirs. The man talked on his cell phone as he walked, and I could hear the conversation. He said, “Just this morning in my prayer time, the Lord appointed the angel Gabriel to me. He has many messages which I must preach.”
My mouth dropped open. I inquired, “If the angel Gabriel is on this balcony, how can that man say that Gabriel has been appointed to him? Evidently, these angels can see the angel the man is calling Gabriel, so how can that be? |
Marty
Delmon Writer
Evangelist Teacher Writing has been in my blood, so to speak, but when I surren-dered my life to Jesus Christ and He told me to write, all my trepidations rolled away and I began in earnest! After all, if God Almighty says it was His idea that I be a writer, who am I to stand in His way? My hope is that you not only like what I write, but that your life is moved by it, and that your party to Jesus and with Jesus turns your life into days of Heaven on Earth.
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