Doug Van Pelt

Pain, Frustration, and Lessons

Lately I've had some minor drama that didn't seem very minor while experiencing it.

Okay, I need a riding lawn mower to cut the weeds and grass at the HM Ranch. The weeds have been growing very high lately, and I had to watch them get over waist-high during deadline, with no time to address the growing problem (pun intended). I even asked a friend to help me shop online for the best deal, cuz I was too busy even to take time to do that. Anyway, I found the lawn mower I wanted at Home Depot. What was cool was that it was even one of the highest rated models in the Consumer Reports booklet from last year. I wanted to get a trailer, though, so I could transport the thing from the store to the HM Ranch (and bring it home if ever needed, too). I find that Home Depot has some small 4' x 6' trailers at a reasonable price (this after giving up on the idea of finding a trailer). I also decide it would be best to buy a lawnmower cover, since I don't have a shed or storage area large enough to house the lawnmower and protect it from the elements.

So anyway, I have about 2.5 hours on Sunday to buy these items with a Home Depot credit card (I didn't mention that using credit/debt seemed like a reasonable solution to this situation, as the cash wasn't handy), and Home Depot has a special rebate deal where you get a sizable Home Depot Gift Card for spending so much money on Garden Tools. I'm getting ready to check out and pay for the trailer and lawn mower when an employee tells me that he can't sell it to me. They didn't have the paperwork from the Department of Transportation to register the trailer (license plate and all). What a bummer! I tried convincing them or asking them for alternate plans, but "SLAM!" the door was just shutting in my face. I realized that sometimes roadblocks come in our lives for a reason.

I told the Lord I was frustrated, but trusted Him that there might be a reason for this. Maybe going into debt was wrong because a disaster was around the corner. Maybe that lawnmower was the "wrong one." Maybe this or maybe that. I don't know. All I know is that I was very frustrated that I was simply trying to buy something on display at a store and then prevented from doing so. But I "gave it" (the situation and all its frustrating details) to the Lord. Soon after praying the prayer my cell phone goes off, and it's a voicemail from another Home Depot in the Austin area. They've got the trailers and necessary paperwork. They've also got a "free lawnmower cover" offer that's good for this model. 'Wow. Perhaps that was the reason for the road block. Maybe it was set in my path so an even better deal would come along...' I try to see if I can pick it up that day, before we head out to the country to visit some friends (or after the get together), but those plans don't work out.

The next day I get to this Home Depot in Austin and wait in line at the service desk. I see a sign that offers a 10% discount to any military personnel, active, reserve, retired AND their families. 'I qualify for that,' I think in amazement, as my dad is a retired Air Force veteran. It says that proof is required and my mind starts to wonder if there's any paperwork my dad might have on him that he could fax over. So I call him on my cell. The guy at the service desk overhears me and says, 'I trust you. Anyone that's trying to fax over a document...' and he hands me the 10% coupon. I'm stoked. The free lawnmower cover turns out to be expired, and I see that deal sinking down, but the service people ask management and they just zero the price for me and endeavor to take care of the rebate later on their terms, since the coupons were on display and sales people were offering it.

So, that was a rad turn-around of events -- saving over 20% on these items due to a mail-in rebate and the military discount...plus the free cover.

Then I transport the lawnmower to the HM Ranch and get ready to mow. I try to start it (after flipping through the Owner's Manual and reading the quick start instructions on the machine. Nothing. No "click-click" or any sound when I engage the key. I get on the phone with someone in lawnmowers at teh store, explain the scenerio, and he says it sounds like the battery is dead. I'm an hour from their store and getting frustrated again. The lawn really needs mowing, but it's just not going to happen that night. I take out the battery and bring it to the Home Depot in Hutto (which I'm not becoming a fan of, since they were the source of my Sunday frustration). They take me over to the replacement batteries, which I ask to test before I leave (to avoid another no start situation). They don't have a decent tester in the store, but I ask the lawnmower expert (who I'd spent 45 minutes talking to about mowers a week or two before) if I can tell him my procedure, to make sure I'm not leaving out a step in the starting process. Turns out that my interpretation of "engaging the parking brake" and the proper way to "apply the brakes fully" were different and I was just doing it wrong. It was kind of embarrassing, but it was good to know that it would probably start the next day.

So today (Tuesday) comes around, along with our cool new intern, Rand, and after dealing with a computer problem that takes a frustrating hour to solve, I head out around noon to try and start the mower. It responds with a road, like that "Red Barchetta" car in the Rush song, and I'm off mowing the lawn. Early into the first cut around the perimeter, I run over something. It sounds bad, and it takes me a while to disengage the spinning blades. I had run over some loose electric fence wire by the barbed wire fence. I drive the tractor back to the driveway to take a look. I've wrapped that metal wired around the blades really good. I take the key out and endeavor to unplug the spark plug, so as not to risk getting my hands cut off by the blades as I'm working on it. As I reach for the plug connection, I hit something hot (really hot) and it burns the snot out of my pinky, ring, and middle finger of my right hand. Ouch! instant blisters...

The only tool I have to unwind it (bad move) is a multi-tool, which is like a knife, screwdriver, and needle-nose pliers. It's not good enough. After wrestling with it for a while, I tell the Lord, "This is frustrating. Please help me. And I'm sorry for asking for so much help lately." I decide to go into town (Taylor) and buy some tools (wire cutters and maybe a good wrench/pliers). On the way I call my wife to tell her what's going on, and in the hopes that while telling someone about the problem, perhaps level heads will prevail. As we're talking, I pass a farmer who waves from his driveway. After going about a block, I turn around, realizing that this farmer may have a tool he can lend me. Sure enough, he's friendly and reaches right into his toolbox to hand me a wire cutter and a tongue and groove set of pliers I spy and ask for. They do the trick, and I test to make sure everything's working, and then I return the tools.

While talking to this guy (and handing him a copy of a sampler CD and the 20th anniversary issue of HM) he hands me his business card and offers his help if I ever need farming, fencing, etc. We start to talk about my need for leasing part of our land to a farmer to grow a crop (like hay) to keep the "Agricultural Exemption" on the land, which means radically reduced taxes on the land. Turns out he's got some brilliant ideas that blow away the previous plans we had with another farmer. This guy will pay us to lease the land and plant a "coastal grass" on the land, which gets cut and bailed into hay 3-4 times a year, a grass which grows year round and will stay on the land (with proper fertilization) and not have to be re-planted each year. It won't grow as garishly high as the other types of hay, so the whole encounter is a good one, which wouldn't have happened if I hadn't had the accident with the wire wrapping around the blades. Cool, huh?

But it's not over. After I get back and start mowing again, I notice a pickup truck stop by my house, back up and then stop in the road. A guy gets out and starts doing something. 'I bet he's killing a snake or something,' I guess. I drive over there on the mower and, sure enough, he's bashing the head of a large snake and cutting its head off with a knife. I ask him what kind it was and he ventures that it's a Water Moccasin. I guess that perhaps I scared him out of my weeds/grass when I was cutting earlier. Who knows? But maybe my initial mowing got that snake to moving, and my little mishap and frustrating delay prevented me from being bitten by that poisonous snake. Maybe that was another silver lining to the minor drama.

I don't know, but it's been kind of fun to give little things like that during the day over to God. Just being able to talk to Him about my problems has been helpful. Giving up and resting on His wisdom and trusting Him to help things work out has brought peace. And the outcome of each of these mishaps has had a significant and cool outcome in the positive direction. I'm not claiming a miracle here, but I'm not discounting it, either.

Whoo-hoo!

Presidents and Kings

Rees Howells spoke all the time. One time while speaking a guy named Lord Radstock was in the audience. He flipped out over the common lessons that God had taught them both.

"He told them what he had proved in his experience of the difference between a prayer warrior and an intercessor... A prayer warrior can pray for a thing to be done without necessarily being willing for the answer to come through himself; and he is not even bound to continue in the prayer until it is answered. But an intercessor is responsible to gain his objective, and he can never be free till he has gained it. He will go to any lengths for the prayer to be answered through himself."

As I've mentioned before in previous blogs, I believe I came (back) to the Lord* through the result of an intercessor. This guy (Greg Taylor) was praying and fasting for me and weeping over the condition of my soul in prayer, willing to go to any means to see me (back) in the kingdom.

* my story is a "prodigal son" story, so that's why I refer to it as "coming back" to the Lord, because I had really had a conversion experience at an earlier age (11), going off on a "prodigal journey" for nine years before returning back to His kingdom.

But wow...what a tall order. I think I'd much rather be a "prayer warrior" than suffer the work of an "intercessor." But it would be darn cool to be an intercessor, too. With this kind of price to pay, it'll be a serious commitment to partake in. If I could return the "favor," though and pray someone else into the kingdom, that would be very, very rich.

A Father to Orphans

Back to Rees Howells, Intercessor after the busy-ness of deadline...

Chapter 14 tells of a continuing story about the family of the woman with tuberculosis that died. The father fell into sin and abandoned the 4 children. The Lord had been dealing with Howells about these children, asking him what should be done, as if confiding in a friend for advice. Howells had no answer. Then the Lord challenged him with the question about children of his own family, to which he had a quick reply. Then the Lord let him know how much he was to care for these children, so God could be a "Father to the fatherless" through him.

Rees Howells had given his life to God. When praying for the tubercular woman, he was even pressed to identify with her in death. Instead of dying, though, he became a "living martyr," whose life was not his own. This is a scary (but exciting) thing, as the call to duty may conflict with the comforts of home. Sometimes it meant sacrificing dreams -- even dreams that were "kingdom dreams." But God can be trusted, even when we cannot understand what is going on. We don't have to worry about His kingdom. He is more than capable of defending it.

Taking in four orphan children that he had no feelings toward as though he was their father was a big deal. Of course, Howells asked God to give him a love for these children, as he saw his own lack of such emotions as not being capable of the task. The Lord then provided this love, and it was said to have stayed with him in abundance, with he and his wife taking in as many as seventy children later.

One of the unique lessons Howells learned was he was told by the Lord to stop putting money into a collective form of insurance plan. He even gave up the claims of the monies he had put in it already. And then later the Lord called him to catch up the abandoning father's payments (which were in arrears). He had to deal with the apparent conflict of, 'How can I do something for someone else that God forbade me to do?' He wisely discerned that:

"'...it was equally clear,' said Mr. Howells, 'that we cannot say a thing is wrong for others just because we have been called to give it up; it depends on our position or grade in life.'"

That's a major lesson that some people find very difficult to learn.

Deadline

the new issue is finished !!!

hallelujah!

Now there's only 65 days, 22 hours, 35 minutes and 56 seconds 'til the next one!

Worry

Before I got right with God at age 20, I was somewhat of a bad guy (the term I want to use starts with "bad" and ends with the biblical term for donkey, but it's a little crass). Maybe I was just a faker; but if I was, I fooled myself.

In all honesty, that's probably thinking a little more "highly" of myself than I ought. It's easy to look back and think more highly (or conversely, too low) of oneself. But I do know that I used to be a lot more fearless. I don't know what it is about my faith and my conversion... It probably has nothing to do with that, but I did things that were dangerous and didn't mind it much. But somehow in my conversion experience I have become a sissy. Perhaps I picked up a bad teaching somewhere, but I swear I don't remember one (and I'd probably remember that). All I know is that I tend to worry more about things these days. For instance, my dad is in town and he's been asked to speak at a conference put on by the makers of these Velocity airplane kits, which is really cool. He's asked me to fly up to Dallas with him on Saturday, which is REALLY cool. I find myself dealing with apprehension about that, which is crazy. I used to fly small planes myself, having logged several hours as a solo pilot. Maybe somewhere along the line I took the gentle qualities of Jesus and expanded them to influence the way I think about danger. As a cherished follower of Christ (like all of His followers), I am the beneficiary of some divine and angelic protection. If anything, I should be more brave.

It's been said that a brave man is not someone who has no fear, but someone that faces that fear and overcomes it. It's not being a sissy to feel fear, but I don't want to be a spineless wimp and be ruled by fear.

It is interesting how a common verse about worry is surrounded in context about praise and rejoicing. A man that rejoices in the Lord is going to be a confident man. This man will not fear death or danger. He will not be undone. He is brave. He is a balanced man -- strong, yet humble. He chooses gentleness and gives of himself.

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

A Wonderful Family...

A wonderful family...I've got.

They came over to the office last night and had dinner with me. It helps break up those long days and late nights when I can actually see my family, so them coming was a super gift to me. We had pizza at the office. Our dog was there. He loves being out here.

Jealousy

I got a phone call on Monday from Heather, a good friend of ours who used to sell ads for HM. Her husband is a good friend of mine, and their kids are the same age as ours, and they spend as much time as they can together. (The point being that we love them dearly and want the best for them, good things to happen for them, etc).

So, Heather calls to get the Bloodgood's phone number, as Michael and his wife and their two youngest sons were in Austin recently. They always visit once or twice a year to see their oldest son, Paul, who is one of the best dancers in the Austin Ballet. The Bloodgoods came over to the office on Sunday after church, where we cooked burgers on the grill, hung out, and even played a game of kickball out back. Heather and her husband, who've gotten to know the Bloodgoods from their annual visits over the years, obviously wanted to hang out with them, too.

As I was getting the number, I "hear" this thought in my head that says something like, 'I hope their plans to get together with the Bloodgoods fail.' This was followed by another thought, which asked, 'WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!?!' That was a crazy jealous thought, wasn't it? I equate that thought with the kind of evil broadcast of thoughts common to us all, like the hateful, 'If you had a gun, you could kill that guy,' or the lustful, 'That's a beautiful woman in line at the store, she would be a good sex partner.'

I've had conversations with people about some of these random evil thoughts that our brain picks up on like an unwanted pirate radio station. A sister confided in me that sometimes while she's rocking her baby these hideous thoughts of violence and murder enter her mind. I think this is some sort of cosmic spiritual warfare. We shouldn't feel guilty for having these thoughts, only if we harbor them or turn them in our head, developing the "plot" and fantasizing about it. Maybe they're planted or suggested by real evil spirits, hoping to trip us up and watch our behavior go down the path of the tested-over-time methods of these mental "hooks" or something.

I don't know, but I felt stupid for even acknowledging that this thought entered my head. Of course I don't wish for my friends' plans to fellowship with my other friends to fail. These friends aren't my exclusive property. That is the most ridiculous, immature thought ever! That's insane.

There's a verse that gives some structure to this whole "thoughts in our minds is the battlefield for spiritual warfare" idea:

"Take all thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ."

There's been times that I've actually quoted that verse out loud (like muttering or whispering them under my breath), and have seen that act help me out of a jam I didn't want to be in or a thought or two I didn't want to see "lingering around" in my head. It's like we can't help having a crazy thought float into our head, but we are responsible for "flushing" that craziness out, resisting the thought, or "casting it out" of our minds. Weird, huh?

My dog is under my desk licking the scab on my knee...

That feels really gross. I wonder if there's any medicinal value in dog saliva?

One day, six hours, forty-three minutes and three seconds left of deadline.
The novel by Willie Makeit.

The Pond is Full

Wow.
Out here at the HM ranch we've got a "broken pond," which means it is dry...i guess. Anyway, it filled up rather instantly after a recent rain (even though previous rains didn't "put a dent" in the empty bowl earlier. This is fun. I want to stock it with fish.

One day, 19 hours and 11 seconds left of deadline.
Whoo-hoo!

Here is a cover I designed for the next issue of Heaven's Metal Fanzine. Whattya think?

Feelin' Satisfied?

I remember back in September of 1978. It was my first real rock and roll concert (seeing Bobby Sherman at Six Flags with my family doesn't count as a rock concert -- but being at Anaheim Stadium with 78,000 Southern Californians bent on partying and beautiful girls in bikinis asking me if I had any acid -- that counts...).

It was a four-band bill that started in the afternoon. I was in the back on the grass for Sammy Hagar and then found a river of people migrating back and forth from the front. I started swimming upstream. I saw one of my favorite bands at the time -- van Halen -- from a good vantage point. I was even closer for Black Sabbath (of whom I'd never heard one song before), and then I was front row center for Boston.

I'll never forget the sound. Tom Scholz' Rockman guitar amplification units cut through the outdoor sky with a perfect clarity. I felt as if I was at home listening to a compact disc of their album with headphones on -- and CDs weren't even around yet! When I say I was front row center, I meant it. I could hold the outfield fence in my hands and was at the very center of the stage. During the song, "Feelin' Satisfied," singer Brad Delp looked right at me and smiled as he clapped his hands, his cue to get me and the audience to start clapping along. I didn't budge my stubborn arms crossed position. I tell ya, I was definitely feelin' satisfied about that!

hehe

That's my stupid concert story of the day. It is slightly inaccurate, as far as the "first real rock and roll concert" account goes, as I was present at Explo '72 in Dallas, with Larry Norman, Johnny Cash, and (believe it or not) Kris Kristofferson. I guess that counts, but I was there with my parents. So this event is the first one where I was unsupervised (and high on pot). I was a young man (in the middle of my "prodigal state") that was intent on living a sinful lifestyle. The only restraint I ever wanted to show was whatever would keep me out of trouble -- from the law or my parents. I remember knowing that my parents knew about "what happened at those dang rock and roll concerts." They had forbid me to go to the California Jam II festival/concert the Spring before, where 300,000 Southern Californians partied at Ontario Motor Speedway to the tunes of Santana, Ted Nugent, Bob Welch, Heart, Mahogany Rush, Dave Mason, Aerosmith, and many others. I bet Lester Bangs was there. I overheard my grandad tell my parents, "I'm glad you didn't let your kids go. I heard that there was total debauchery there, with drugs and nudity..." When I returned from the Van Halen concert, my dad asked me how it was. About all I said was: "It was great! I found a ticket." (You know how communicative teenagers can be with their parents). Later I found a 3x5 card in his desk with the words, "It was great! I found a ticket." I'm not sure if they regret letting me go (I went with the sons of the Air Force Base Protestant Chaplain, who "must've been fine, upstanding young men," but were really the biggest partiers of our partying school), but this lifestyle that I was dead-set on pursuing would have happened sooner or later. I was fascinated with the world. Like a young Israeli that'd only heard stories about Egypt. I wanted to go...and bolted for it at the soonest chance.

I hope I can cultivate a love for Jesus and help nurture it for our kids, so that they don't run into sin like I did. What can you do as a parent to help your kids make wise choices?

Here's an interesting tidbit (Luke 11:52): "'Woe to you experts in the law, because you have taken away the key to knowledge. You yourselves have not entered, and you have hinded those who were entering.'" Perhaps making the "key to knowledge" available for young ones, training them how to learn, giving them access to the Truth, God's Word, will put them in touch with learning, which is something that they can take through their entire life... Hmmm.

God is Love

I just finished watching and reviewing the Johnny Knoxville movie/DVD The Ringer. In this movie the Special Olympics plays a central role. It's so wonderful to see love in action with groups like Special Olympics. The epitomy of love is putting the needs of someone else above your own. This is seen in the millions of volunteers that help out with this organization; and it's seen by the athletes themselves. There are many cases in a track meet race where, if one runner falls, other runners will stop to pick that fallen comrade up and help him or her get going again -- many times at the expense of their finishing place. People that work with Special Olympics are cool. They don't psyche themselves up into believing that "special needs people are special." They know it to be true. They have gained immeasurable experience, love, wisdom, and joy from these fellow humans. They don't just think or believe this to be true -- they know it from experience.

While our society often places value on people (remember the role-playing game of "Lifeboat?"), they are wrong. Like I mentioned in a recent blog, whoever your eyes see as "the least of these," realizing that you're wrong and giving that person the value that he or she deserves is one of the most right things you can do. I remember visiting some orphanages in Russia several years ago. I was told and could kind of tell that the Soviet Union did not place a high priority on the individual (duh), and even less of a priority on an individual with a disability or an abandoned, orphaned child. Even more shocking was the fact that people who worked in these orphanages and cared for them were treated with disdain, as though they were pursuing a useless career. (shudder) This is human nature at its hideous side.

One thing Special Olympics has done is reversed the false thinking around much of the world about people that have physical or mental challenges in their lives. It's truly become a phenomenon that has changed the world. I see that as a very real and tangible evidence of the love of God and the presence of the Holy Spirit on this Earth. While love is not to be monopolized by Christians, it is the very nature of the One True God that made all of this and all of us. Seeing it expressed is a wonderful thing and a beautiful thing. And it doesn't have to have the visible or audible stamp of "this is done in the Name of Jesus." Sometimes us evangelical Christians are so narrow-minded about the Second Coming of Christ and evangelizing the world in obedience to the Great Commission that we lose sight of the simplest of commands to love one another. Celebrating love is a fantastic thing that (I believe) God doesn't have to get the credit for. No one does. That's like doing a good deed but not resting or feeling fulfilled until you get the credit for that good deed. That's not love. That's being a boy scout and persuing merit badges for vain glory and status symbols.

Winning people to the kingdom of God and having their souls saved from a jacked-up life separated from God is an incredible thing. There is much love in that. However, having to take credit for every act of love "for our team" is just ridiculous. I don't know if the people who started or helped launch Special Olympics were Christians or not (it wouldn't surprise me if they were), but it doesn't matter who the love was expressed through. Love originates from God and He doesn't make it something that we have to pledge to a certain creed to grab onto, experience and give.

One of the funnest parts about knowing God, in fact, is being able to do silent good deeds where possibly no one else on Earth will know about it, but we can share a cool little secret like that with our Father in Heaven. I'm sure He delights in that kind of stuff.

Overcoming Death

In chapter 13 Rees Howells is fresh from the memory of praying for the tubercular woman, who died. And yet he faced the prospect of praying for a dying man. As he interceded for the man, he heard the Lord say, "He will live and not die." He faced his own doubts and the thoughts the enemy brought to him, resisting them over and over. This particular man was given no hope and his wife was about to be a widow with her ten children. Rees knew that, "unless he could prevail for the husband, the Holy Ghost would insist on taking that place (relieving the widow and a Father of the fatherless) through him, and he would be responsible to provide for the woman and support her children."

So, not only was Rees full of faith, but he was very practical as well. When he told the woman for the second day in a row that her husband would live (she did not believe him the day before, because he communicated with doubt in his voice), he had to leave for a trip the next morning. This made him ripe for the picking when it came to the doubts of the enemy, who were filling his head full of thoughts like, 'They will greet you at the station with the news and ask you to speak at the funeral.' But in reality he was greeted with cheers of, "He got well the minute you left the home."

Unlike the temptation that many charismatics pentecostals face -- of faking it to relive past glories -- Rees didn't succumb to that. When he didn't know what the Lord was going to do or what the answer was, he honestly revealed that when asked. He didn't pretend. This is a great quality. Lying, pretending, and faking undermines so much integrity that can only be earned over observed behavior over time.

An interesting pattern is beginning to emerge in Rees Howells' stories: he travails in prayer, abiding in the Lord, until "intercession has been gained," which is like him having a breakthrough in prayer. It's hard to understand and hard to believe this in our day and age, but these are principles that Jesus taught. I can imagine the beauty of identifying with someone in need and weeping over their condition and pleading for God to intervene. While full of anguish and emotional pain, it must be peaceful to reach a point where "intercession has been gained." It sounds very religious, like meditation or something, but I won't dismiss this as a mystical error of some sort. Being persistent and passionate in prayer are things clearly taught in the Word.

I have a lot to learn about this kind of prayer. I believe it is the method that brought me into God's kingdom.

The Best Album in the Universe

I have often said that the best album in the universe is the self-titled debut by Galactic Cowboys. I was listening to it for the first time in a long while (cuz I had the song "Why Can't You Believe In Me" stuck in my head), and I'm not so sure it stands the all-important test of time to keep that title. I'm not sure what album would take its place (Out of the Silent Planet by King's X, Warrior by Arkangel, Satellite by P.O.D., Physical Graffiti by Led Zeppelin????). It's hard to say. I certainly think it belongs up there near the top, but I'm not so sure it belongs at the very top (or if any one album does). Lists...who needs them?

There is 7 days, 6 hours, and 49 minutes left of deadline. My goal is to have this one done a day early. We'll see.

This talk in Rees Howells, Intercessor about intercession is intense. It says (in chapter 12): "Mr. Howells would often speak of 'the gained position of intercession,' and the truth of it is obvious on many occasions in his life. It is a fact of experience. The price is paid, the obedience is fulfilled, the inner wrestlings and groanings take their full course, and the 'the Word of the Lord comes.' The weak channel is clothed with authority by the Holy Ghost and can speak the word of deliverance. 'Greater works' are done. Not only this, but a new position in grace is gained and maintained, although even then that grace can only be appropriated and applied in each instance under the guidance of the Spirit.

"Mr. Howells used to speak of it, in Mr. Muller's phrases, as entering 'the grace of faith,' in contrast to receiving 'the gifts of faith.' What he meant was that, when we pray in a normal way, we may hope that God of His goodness will give us the thing. If He does, we rejoice; it is His gift to us; but we have no power or authority to say that we can always get that same answer at any time. Such are the gifts of faith. But when an intercessor has gained the place of intercession in a certain realm, then he has entered into 'the grace of faith,' along that special line the measureless sea of God's grace is open to him. That is the gained place of intercession."

Wow. Does this mean that we can get an extra measure of God's approval or a better standing in Heaven by praying more? I don't think so. I think what is being implied here is the working of power down here. If we want to walk in miracles and be used by God to do greater things, then there is a price to pay in prayer. Jesus taught many times about laboring in prayer, about being persistent in prayer. If we take these lessons and explanations of the kingdom to heart, then we too might spend lengthy amounts of time in prayer. Rees Howells was "abiding" in God, with extended amounts of prayer on a daily basis for several months at a time -- as long as it took for the answer to shake loose (when God would tell him that such and such was done). To belittle or doubt these things without experiencing them is a bit shaky. Maybe there's something to this...

Rees Howells, Intercessor

Chapter twelve begins to explain some deep stuff, attempting to define intercession. Moses interceded for Israel, leaving the comfort of the palace to identify with his people. Jesus interceded for us, leaving Heaven to take the form of a man; and "He ever lives to intercede for us." Paul interceded for us, even wishing he could renounce his own salvation if it would bring more people into God's kingdom.

"Perhaps believers in general have regarded intercession as just some form of rather intensified prayer. It is, so long as there is great emphasis on the word 'intensified.' For there are three things to be seen in an intercessor, which are not necessarily found in ordinary prayer: identification, agony, and authority."

The Healing

The eleventh chapter of Rees Howells, Intercessor is titled: The Tubercular Woman. It was about a woman who had developed tuberculosis. "Then one evening she revived remarkably and announced to her friends that the Great Physician had told her she was to be healed." She asked Rees if God had said anything to him. He began praying for her and "abiding" in Him in prayer over this -- for six months. Rees determined, like in all his prayer, to live like and take the place of the people he was praying for. He was convinced that, not only would he have to take on the disease of tuberculosis, but that he would have to die for this woman. At first, he could not bear to take this on. He felt horrible that night for this, and could not sleep. He wished that he had not taken on this issue of healing at all.

He then realized that he could be like a "living martyr" and live like a dead man, only alive in Christ. He told the woman he would take her place and she would not have it. She privately prayed to the Lord, "Please don't heal me. He is more good to the village than I am. Let me not be healed if it means he dies." Suddenly she was radiant and a new person. I can imagine God would love to hear sacrificial prayers like that.

About three months later she suddenly died. He was asked by her to come immediately, but she passed away before he got to her house. He was told that she told those in the room that Jesus was calling her and she was going. She would return with Him later. Then she shook everyone's hand and said goodbye, then laid down and went to be with the Lord. This was so amazing that when the story was told at her funeral that it turned into a joyous occasion.

I know healing can be a touchy subject. It can be a heart-wrenching one. I was at a funeral on Monday for a little boy named Zach that had autism yet lived his ten years in a state of joy and love that was contagious and touched everyone around him. I didn't know him, but after hearing story after story I was jealous of those that did know him. I'm sure people prayed for his healing from leukemia. When his healing doesn't come in this life he enters eternity, it can still cause us grief and confusion here. Roger Martinez told me that his journey to atheism began with a sermon series he was preparing on divine healing. His search for proof led him to disregard God.

I have had my back pain removed from prayer. I visited Steve Rowe when he was having grand mal seizures and given hours or minutes to live...and that was in 1998 and three world tours later I'm talking to Steve on the phone this week. A friend of mine, who got married this past month had a fellow groomsman that I've talked to about healing before. He's a doctor and he and some of his colleagues go to third world countries every now and then to bring medical care to those that can't afford it. They met one boy with a severe cleft-type problem -- he had a giant hole in between his nostrils -- a hole in his nasal septum. The team of doctors realized it would be a very delicate and difficult surgery. They prayed for the boy's healing and scheduled to operate on it the next day. When they examined him prior to surgery, the hole was gone! I believe in God and I believe He heals. However, He is the King and I don't order Him around. Sometimes I don't understand how or why He will heal or not or His timing.

A Lesson About Money

In chapter 10 of Rees Howells Intercessor, we see how Rees learned to be a steward of God's money and not an owner.

He was ready for a special meeting one night that his friend was leading. His friend wasn't able to go at the last minute and Rees suddenly realized that he hadn't "carried the burden" and prayed for the meeting as usual, but had kinda left that in his friend's hands. On the way there he prayed, asking the Lord for forgiveness for not carrying that burden, promising it would never happen again and, "like Jephthah," promised that if God showed up and blessed the meeting that he would give the Lord anything He asked.

After the meeting went fantastic, he returned to the spot of his vow and told the Lord he was ready to learn what He would have of him. God told him, "I want you to be a steward, and not an owner. Will you give up all claim on your money to Me?"

He had already thought that he'd spent all his money on the Lord's work, and he had. It was just that he decided to give. This decision would relinquish even the decision on when and how much to give. God called him to only spend money on essentials, and that He'd direct his money. It was tested some four months later when a friend sent him a Christmas card and he wanted to return the favor and send him a New Year's postcard, which cost a penny. He felt the Lord's conviction and wrote a letter instead, explaining the situation. Later his team was praying for 2 pounds. That day a letter from his friend came, who was much blessed by the lesson in the letter, which he had shared with many. He sent 2 pounds and asked to be notified if there was ever another need, to which he'd be delighted to give towards. Rees refused to ever do this, only asking through the throne. He said his friend was often reached this way...

Wow. Can you imagine having a relationship -- not only with the Father, where you'd ask Him for all your needs -- but also a friend who heard God and helped out as a result of your prayers (instead of direct communication)?!? Wow. That is an adventurous life, indeed.

Intercession

This book tells of some amazing things. I'm reminded of Greg Taylor and how he prayed for me and, in concert with others, "prayed me into the kingdom." This guy prayed and fasted for me, and wept over my soul in prayer. All of this in secret and for a King he only saw in his spirit. I'm amazed and grateful that people loved me and prayed for me when I was hardened of heart and opposed to God's kingdom.

Rees Howells and his friends were returning from the village one night and came upon a group of women who never came to the meetings and were obviously drunk. The Lord spoke to Rees and told him to pick out the "ringleader" and pray her into the kingdom by Christmas day. He interceded for her, using John 15:7 as his guide:

"If ye abide in Me, and My Words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will and it shall be done unto you."

He saw all of this depending upon his abiding. For him that meant consistent time in prayer and in waiting on the Lord, and strict obedience to what the Lord was telling him to do. By the end of six weeks the Spirit told him that "the abiding was complete and the victory assured." Sure enough that woman came to a meeting and was converted,

Can you imagine the sense of power and gratitude you'd have if you were part of that?

Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves

Prior to getting "called" to reach out to the area tramps, God had called Rees Howells to pray and fast about a convention, which squared him up with an addiction he didn't know he had -- food! He had never fasted before, so it was a real challenge for him.

"When midday came he was on his knees in his bedroom, but there was no prayer that next hour. 'I didn't know such a lust was in me,' he said afterwards. 'My agitation was the proof of the grip it had on me. If the thing had no power over me, why did I argue about it?' At one o'clock his mother called him, and he told her he wasn't taking lunch. But she called again, as a mother would, and urged, 'It won't take you long to have it.' The goodly aroma from downstairs was too much for him, and down he came. But after the meal, when he returned to his room, he couldn't get back into the presence of God. He came face to face with disobedience to the Holy Ghost. 'I felt I was like the man in the garden of Eden,' he said. 'I went up the mountain and walked miles, cursing that 'old man' within me. I felt that if God were to take lunch from me to the end of my days, He would be justified in doing it. To some people there might seem nothing in it, but once you are God's channel, on no account can you disobey Him or bring in your own ideas. I wept many tears, and it almost seemed as if He would never allow me to come back into His presence, till He said, 'I will forgive you, but you are not to go unpunished. You hold up your hands while you pray from 6 to 9 o'clock.' (Ex. 17:11, 12; 1 Tim. 2:8)

"The closer a person is to God, the more terrible is the least sin seen to be."

I can relate to the feeling of remorse from disobeying the Holy Spirit. I believe God told me once that He created me to cry. I don't really know what that means, but I do remember almost every intance in my life when I cried. These experiences are now emotional imprints on my memory. One such experience was while retelling a friend of mine how I felt God had told me not to watch any of the Faces of Death movies. Perhaps it was to thwart an unhealthy fascination with death. I don't know, but I truly sensed that this was a "word from the Lord" for me. It was all totally private. Anyway, one day the temptation and curiosity got the best of me and I rented a Faces of Death video. Later on, when I was telling a friend about this, I couldn't help but start balling, realizing that I had disobeyed the Holy Spirit of God, Who had given me the precious gift of hearing His voice, and there I go not heeding it. Oh, the pain I felt. It was embarrassing enough to cry in front of a friend, but the sorrow was real and deep.

So, I can relate to that. I can't say I relate to the punishment that he felt God doled out on him. I'll give Rees Howells some slack and say that perhaps God did tell him this. Just because it's kind of foreign to me doesn't mean it wasn't God (this is a lesson all of us could learn). It just seems weird...

The passage Rees Howells references in Exodus is the story of Moses and the Israelites getting victory as long as Moses held up his hands. 1 Timothy 2:8 is the verse that says:

"I want men everywhere to lift up holy hands in prayer, without anger or disputing."

He had something else very interesting to say about this lesson:
"He didn't take dinner for many days after that, but spent the hour with God. As he said later, 'The moment I got victory in it, it wasn't a very big thing to do; it was merely a steppingstone to His next call to me. It is while you still want a thing that you can't get your mind off it. When you have risen above it, He may give it back to you; but then you are out of its grip.'"

This reminds me of a phenomenon that was picked up in the recent documentary, Why Should The Devil Have All The Good Music? It's where young people get saved, and they give up rock music, and in the movie it was funny to see the common theme of giving up listening to Led Zeppelin in particular. This happens a lot, I believe, for a very simple reason: God wants to remove the hook that this music has inside a person. He is a jealous God and He wants His people to love Him and be free from bondage. The love of music, especially exceptionally great and powerful rock music, can be a powerful force. While it's not inherently evil (as some foolish and narrow-minded preachers might imply), it can get in the way of a person's relationship with God. It might be in the wrong place or hold the wrong place in our hearts (perhaps we worship it). Once it has been extracted, then God may give it back. This happens to a lot of believers as they mature. They end up buying back some of those Zeppelin albums they may have burned. It's kind of funny, but it probably serves a great purpose in a person's maturity in the faith.

As God showed Rees the spiritual discipline of fasting, it came in handy when he began reaching out to the tramps. As was now apparently his custom, he endeavored to not live above the people he was ministering to. Tramps only got two meals a day, and so he too lived on two meals of bread and cheese and soup. It was hard to maintain this while living with a motherly mother at home, but he argued with her about the four young men in Babylon, "who, after their days of abstinence, looked 'fairer and fatter' than the rest." She started spiking his soups with as much nutrition as she could!

Isn't the love of a mother great?

Rees' team took tramps and bought them a new suit, fed them, and got them a job, and gave them a place to live until they drew their first paycheck. Many came to faith through this.

"'After many months in this school of faith,' said Rees, 'the Holy Ghost put such love in our hearts towards these people that we would rather be without ourselves than allow them to be in want.'"

Seven

Rees Howells was taught many lessons in his life of ministry. In this chapter, he is led to minister at and reach out to a village a couple of miles from where he was -- a place where the revival did not impact."These people had had the best preaching in the revival, and it had not touched them; but the Holy Spirit was taking His servant there to be the first sufferer, and everyone who was in need would have a claim on him to supply that need."

These are big words. The first thing he found when they visited was barrels of beer placed out in the open and people were drinking and gambling and playing all kinds of games. The place was nick-named "Hell-fire Row." He and his team soon stopped wearing clothes that were beyond the means of the villagers. He stopped wearing an expensive gold watch that he'd brought back from America, too. He felt God told him, "If you are the first sufferer, don't have a thing these people can't have."

The first big break came when the village's "ringleader of drunkenness" was involved in some trouble that was going to be followed by a court case. He went to the man and asked him if he would allow Rees to settle the matter out of court and cover the cost himself. "The man was speechless. 'He was every inch a man,' observed Mr. Howells. 'Mere words could never reach him, but when he saw the love of God like that, he was touched on a vital spot and broke down."

The Lord began to impress upon Howells that he should and could depend upon God for his needs. This former worshipper of money began to trust God even deeper. He parted with his last British pound and took a step of faith.

"'Oh, how the devil pitied me and brought such arguments!' he said. 'He told me it would be a step in the dark and that if there was a convention or anything of that kind, I wouldn't be able to go unless I had a pound laid by. But the Holy Ghost showed me that if God wanted me to go anywhere, He would surely provide the means. The danger was on the other side: for if a person has money, he can go without consulting God, like Jonah, who could afford to pay his passage to run away from Him! The fact is, we can never really be bondservants until God does control our means.'"

He heard about a strike coming on, and sought the Lord about how to deal with it, for the last strike had gone on for eight months, causing the villagers incredible hardship. The Lord asked him one question: "Would he allow the Holy Ghost to do through him for the people of the village what he would do for his own family?" The Bible had promised that bread and water would be sure. Would he make that promise to the village and give them bread and cheese, and tea and sugar? He knew the two grocers would give him credit though they would not allow any to the villagers. Would he run up to 100 pounds? It was a tremendous challenge. How could he do such a thing? The Sunday before the strike he brought it up. "This strike may last nine months, but not one of you will be in need of what God has promised. There is no need for any one of you to be troubled or fearful." Apparently "the blessing came down that night" in an amazing way, as they had to move outdoors.

"The next morning he happened to meet a well-known agnostic, who at once started grumbling at the uselessness of the church and railing against the mining authorities as the cause of the strike. 'Well, what are you yourself going to do for the people in their sufferings?' Mr Howells asked him; and then he told him what the Lord had made him promise the people the night before. The man was dumb. This was a Christianity against which there was no argument."

That is powerful stuff.

The Real Misfits

The heading for the sixth chapter of Rees Howells Intercessor is titled: Loving An Outcast. It's an exciting chapter, but I've been thinking about this subject...

In the circles I sorta live in, it's kind of cool to be a misfit. Identifying with the goth or punk movement, for instance, is often times identifying with the outcast of society, the rebel, the shunned ones, the ones that don't "fit in." However, this has truly become a scene and is therefore artificial and just another label and an area for pride and exclusivism to come in and reside permanently if possible. Most of us like to root for the "underdog," that person or team that is over achieving and others may look down upon. Wearing goth-like clothing and makeup, etc is one way to identify with the dregs or underdogs of society. 'I am one of them,' we are saying. But this soon turns into a "We are us, they are them" mentality that excludes others. I began to wonder, 'Who are the real misfits?' In my mind they are the people that annoy me, the people that I somehow think I'm better than. In practical terms, these are the people with little to no tact, with social skills that annoy me -- like talking too loud or invading personal space without notice. People that like the bands that aren't cool to like, who tell the same old stories over and over again. These are my misfits -- the ones that I arrogantly deem unwanted or unloved. 'Let their own kind love them' is an insidious thought. For me, a misfit is like that frat-looking guy that sat in front of me in church a few weeks ago. During the time in worship where we greet one another, I leaned forward and said hello to this couple, who had not turned back to shake my hand or anything. He curtly said, "Hi" without turning his head, just kind of using his peripheral vision, as if I was a beggar by an underpass that he didn't want to look at. I looked at him and immediately began to judge him. His short hair was immaculately cut over his pressed collar. His preppy look reminded me of so many frat and sorority people who held themselves as if "too beautiful" or "too upper class" to associate with the fun-loving more casual dressed people on campus back in my college days. 'He probably thinks he's better than me,' I thought. This thought was immediately followed up with, 'I'm so much better than him! How deceived is he?' What a load of arrogant dung! My mind was entertaining the most foolish and absurdly prideful thoughts I can imagine. I was kinda surprised how quickly I went "there." It shocked my sense of self-righteousness, 'which was surely beyond such drivel.'

When we realize that each of us has our own prejudices and pride issues, then we are able to deal with them. Sure, we may not have an issue with race, but maybe our issue is class, or genre, or religion, or political. Embracing and loving these misfits in our lives is the challenge. If we think we're at all a fan of the underdog, a lover of the loveless, a servant of a betrayed Messiah, we should identify with those that we deem un-lovable and love them.

Rees Howells was introduced to a new type of prayer in this way. He was convinced that his prayers needed to stop being his whim and fancy and be only directed by the Holy Spirit. He was given a burden for a down and out guy battling with mental illness and alcohol, living in the boiler room of the tin mill.

"'It wouldn't have come to my mind to love him,' he said, 'but when the Holy Ghost comes in, He brings in the love of the Savior. It seemed as if I could lay down my life for this man; there was a love pouring out of me that I never knew before. Naturally speaking, he would be the last one with whom I would spend my spare time, and the tim mill would be the last place.'

"In his free hours Rees made this man his friend and spent all his Sundays with him. He had more joy, he said, seeking to win this one, than at chapel in the company of the other believers. He even walked about the village with him, although embarrassed once or twice as people turned and stared at them, but 'the Lord pulled me up on it,' he rejoiced."

The joy that came from this man's conversion was amazing:

"I hadn't the faintest idea of the love of the Holy Ghost for a lost soul, until He loved one through me."

Rees had a trial over money in his newly surrendered life. This guy named Jim Stakes was a well known drunkard who got saved in the revival. One morning he suddenly "stood before" Rees (in his mind) while he was in prayer. There was a battle over his soul, as the devil dearly wanted him back, which could be a strategic victory against the revival... Later that night Stakes showed up at his place, telling him that Rees had "stood before" him at such and such time. He had a need. He was two years behind in his rent and his furniture was marked for re-possession. (Two years rent is a ton of money!) Rees hesitated for a moment and then said, "I'll give you one year's rent, and I have a friend who I believe will give you the other half." As he bounded up the stairs, the Holy Spirit reminded him of his prayer, that'd he'd "do anything" if the Lord would keep him. "Why are you only giving him half? Did not the Savior pay all of your debt and set you free?" He turned around and ran down the stairs. "I'm sorry I told you I would only give you one year's rent. I am to give you two years' rent, and all you need beside. I am to deliver you in such a way that the devil can't use this situation any longer to get at you."