In 1987, I experienced a head-on collision between the world and myself. My beautiful dreams of success were tainted by dark and menacing shadows.
Job burnout, loneliness and boredom stole my fulfillment as a school psychologist. So, in late spring of 1986 I moved across several states to pursue a doctorate in psychology, and to take a job working with the mildly mentally retarded at a developmental center.
Like tossing a bone to a dog, the unit director tossed me leftovers no one else wanted when I reported for work. “Take it or leave it,” she said, “I am the new boss!”
“Severe profound retarded! On a closed unit!” I withdrew in despair.
These precious souls were trapped in twisted bodies with windswept minds, unable to communicate their simplest of needs. The smell of urine pervaded a large day room imprisoning more than twenty. Amidst loud, unintelligible sounds of the residents, I surveyed the monumental task of writing programs for their habilitation.
Working in a mental hospital years before had taught me to be hypervigilant with unstable patients. Clearly some of these had mixed diagnoses–like the runner who had assaulted a number of staff members to get at a cigarette butt. Many were clearly autistic. Others were like infants of one or two months, whose every need must be anticipated and met. One young woman riddled with venereal diseases masturbated every day all day.
In the coming months I wrote programs for care and behavior management which were largely ignored. These programs were vacant words on empty pages filling bureaucratic waste piles.
It seems that the dregs of society were hired to play minimum wage games; and when no one was looking they allegedly had orgies with these, who were helpless.
This job was a razor slicing deep wounds into an already bleeding soul. On occasion, a typhoon brewed within me. It threatened to override my interpersonal boundaries. It started in my dark recesses and pushed my heart to explode. My thoughts raced wildly, cascading one upon the other in quick succession. Tidal waves of barren emotion bathed my withered sense of self.
Oh, the darkness! Such darkness! How I feared the darkness in me and around me. I was like a gazelle pursued by a lion in the shadows. I knew the presence of the lion. I could smell the lion. I could hear the panting of the lion. I feared that I would touch the lion and be consumed of its hot breath.
“Run! Run! Run!” Yes, I must run from the lion in the darkness.
I would tear out of the day room and onto the grounds. I hoped no one saw. At least no one questioned. At night alone I was even more fearful. For, this state would hit me late at night, and I would run full speed ahead into the night. I would expend my last bit of energy; and when my fear of losing my mind had eased I would rush into my apartment and pour another shot of whiskey.
Whiskey, Oh whiskey! Just one more shot of whiskey. A friend in need is a friend indeed. Sweet solace! It healed my sense of aloneness. It bathed my fears. It kept the lion at bay. Whiskey plugged holes in my makeup like fingers in a dike.
For years whiskey had been part of my fun and joy. I partied with those who loved it. Then, I started to drink alone. I did not like myself when I drank too much, which was often. Drinking to oblivion stole my self-esteem. It robbed me of self-control. Jack Daniels and I two-stepped a love-hate dance. Like impassioned lovers, we groped one another through fits of desperation.
For five months I anguished in the deep abyss of imprisoned souls. I thought I saw a ray of light when a nearby mental health center offered me work counseling children. For many years, children were the love of my life.
I cherish their spontaneity of thought, and sincerity of emotion. Their sweet smiles and precious hearts can heal; they can bring to life the deserts of any mind.
I wish I could tell you that all went gloriously well with this job. But I am sad to say that from day one I knew something was awry. Therapists left one after the other. When a pastoral counselor was fired, I felt deep sorrow.
I did not have much time to dwell on my surroundings. I was very busy with counseling at the center and setting up the first pre-school in the state for emotionally disturbed children. Within six months, there was a waiting list for enrollment. I went into ghettos looking for children and followed up on leads. My responsibilities had mushroomed.
When my immediate supervisor left, half of her work responsibility fell to me. I had precious little time with going to school two nights a week and being on call one night a week for the center.
The little energy I had was being sucked in all directions. The future of my son worried me constantly. His decision to live with his father in December of 1985 broke my heart. I watched helplessly as a governor’s gifted child failed school, chased the wild crowd and fell into the tight clutches of marijuana and its harem.
Another counselor was hired to ease my workload. When the director called me in for my six-month review, she advised me that this person never showed up. She made it clear that I would get no relief in the foreseeable future.
Something snapped in me because of her dry words. At the point of tears, I refused to do the work of three people any longer. I told her that I would do one job, and only one job.
The next day she walked into the preschool early in the morning. I shall never forget her cool and indifferent manner as she handed me a letter of termination.
My immediate feeling of despair was soon replaced with pure loathing. She would never see my sorrow again. I worked so hard, created a big money maker, and was cast aside as a worn out shoe. This firing was a first and last for me.
The darkened lights of my spirit called out to Jesus, to hear the cries of one so lost. I had been searching spiritually for months, going from church to church but never seeming to fit in. Suddenly, the aloneness of my situation was the longest night I had ever known. My soul anguished amidst such great drought of spirit.
“Please, please hear my prayers. Please, please help me,” I begged Jesus. “I am alone and destitute with no money, no energy, no life.” Dark thoughts of suicide raced through my mind. Jack Daniels and the lion were winning.
Amidst my aloneness, my heart flip-flopped in the notion of finding a loving man. I desired this every day of my life but common sense prevailed. I always picked men who mistreated and abused me. Then I rejected them. I had been married and divorced four times by the age of 31, and had now been single for seven years.
In relationships, I was reliving unfinished business from my childhood. My Father who had schizophrenia favored my sister, and disliked and rejected me. I followed him around our sharecropper’s house as he hid rocks and talked to himself. I tried to sit on his lap, but he shoved me away repeatedly and said in a mean voice, “Get on!”
Deep inside I feared rejection from all men. This deep sense of loss kept me from knowing and giving unconditional love. This rejection was always at the forefront of my mind; and in my loneliest of times it came rushing forth like a huge giant on a thunderous walk across my emotions.
Late one night as I begged Jesus in the company of Jack Daniels, a gentle warmth pervaded my bedroom. A great peace moved in and coddled me like an infant. Such peace I had never known. A bright radiance bathed a corner of my room.
“Child, I am Jesus. Come and sit on my knee. I will never reject you, and I will heal you of your hurt toward your father.”
I was consumed of this radiance. Then, suddenly Jesus took me up in His Spirit and I sat on His knee. I don’t know how long this went on. What I know is that from that day forth, I have never had another bad feeling toward my Father. That night Jesus healed my heart.
You are probably asking, “Wasn’t this a little strange to you?”
Absolutely. But, I knew it was real. I glowed with the love from this experience for days. It gave me hope when I had none. It brought me joy when I knew only sorrow. It showed me that Jesus is real and that He hears the prayers of the most lost and forlorn. Jesus gave me life and a desire to live.
My surroundings were just as bleak in many ways in spite of the experience. I had no money and no job, but I was given what money cannot buy: a miracle.
When I told my neighbor a few days later that I was having trouble sleeping. She said, “Try L-tryptophan.”
I bought it and took six L-tryptophan capsules a day for two weeks. By the end of the second week, the lion was pushed into the shadows never to return again.
Several years later, I learned that I was having panic attacks caused from a hormonal imbalance brought on by the hysterectomy in late 1985. My immune system was also weakened by an autoimmune disease.
One Sunday afternoon in late March 1987, perhaps two weeks after being fired, another spiritual experience hit me totally by surprise and set my soul in turmoil for years. You may think this experience to be from the mind of one drunken with “the spirits” or high on LSD. But, I was “sober as a church mouse,” as the saying goes.
I lay on my sofa for a Sunday afternoon nap, lazily gazing out the picture window and focusing on the billowy clouds far overhead. Whether I got caught up in a vision or dream, I cannot say. But what ensued forever changed my life.
Suddenly, I found myself alone in another location. It was not a place to party or have a picnic. There were no other people, rooms or landscapes. To my right, I could enter through a very ornate, black, guilded door. Or, I could go to the left and ascend a white staircase, which disappeared behind a white wall.
I stood for a while and pondered my choices; first one, then the other. There was no doubt that I was to make one of the two choices.
The brightness of the myriad ornaments attached to the guilded door captivated my attention. What could possibly possess one to decorate a black door in such gaudy décor? Soon, there was no choice to be made. I would go through the guilded door. For, surely the door opened into sleepy, winding streets bathed by luxurious hills.
I stepped forth, pulled the handle of the door, and it moved readily toward me. Was this a trick? If so, who devised it? For the door, which held such allure, opened to a black wall.
Befuddled I turned to the stairway, certain that it, too, would yield disappointment. Still, curiosity settled in. I stepped upon the stairway and began the simple ascent. The climb was most arduous. It seemed that my feet were carrying weights of lead balls.
After a brief while, I looked down in astonishment to see that the bottom of the stairway was no longer visible. Driven by curiosity, I determined to proceed. Feelings of foreboding, which would seem normal, had no place within me. My feet were on automatic pilot, carrying me ever upward.
In time, the undue feeling of heaviness began to disappear. The pull of gravity was diminishing. My body was becoming increasingly lighter as my feet glided from step to step. Feelings of joy and inner peace enveloped me.
I don’t know how long I had been on the ascent when I looked down to see that my clothes were missing. In their place was a most beautiful, flowing, shimmering gown of golden-white light. When the radiance of the gown caught my eye, surprise and elation suddenly enfolded me.
Then I saw a beautiful, radiant, golden-white light filtering down the stairway. I couldn’t see its origin, but I was aware that the power of the light was quickly pulling me the stairway. My feet no longer touched the steps, as this light pulled me directly up the stairs. Within a matter of seconds I had come to the end of the stairway.
With delicate gown flowing gently in the light, I stood at the end of this stairway in front of a set of double doors. These doors opened into a huge sea of golden-white light. Its vastness and allure were all consuming. The light created a perfect melody of pure, unparalleled splendor and filled me with joy and peace. It was a heavenly symphony reaching high notes within my soul.
I longed to step through the double doors and out into the sea of glorious light. It seemed I had found home at last.
To my great surprise, The Light said, “You will have to go back.”
Suddenly, I was back in my apartment. I felt like a child who had lost a parent or dear friend. The bleakness of my surroundings was magnified many fold, and I wept uncontrollably. I felt the sting of my life out of control in a cold, uncaring world.
“How could God be so cruel as to tease me in such a way? Why had He brought me to the boundaries of home only to send me back? Why had He allowed me to know such beauty only to snatch it away in a moment’s notice?”
I had no answers, just questions. Come what may, I would never be the same.
If the other worldly experiences had stopped with the journey up the stairway, surely time would have moved in to claim some of the beauty. But the journey up the stairway was only the beginning. The light forever changed me. Supernormal experiences began to invade my simple mind. Within a flash, I would glimpse energy fields around the bodies of others. Often, I would see these fields clearly divided into various layers. At other times, I would glimpse sickness and disease in others as dark blobs. I would see power lines dance with electrical currents. Power fields around wall sockets, computers or microwave ovens captivated my attention. Spirits of deceased, and foreboding entities on dark missions painted my world. But, the most beautiful and humbling of all were the many guardian angels, dressed in white robes with hoods and eyes like fire.
By nature of being able to discern demonic entities and disembodied spirits–spirits of dead people, who are in this sphere instead of in heaven where they should be–my greatest question was, “What can I do about them?”
I cannot tell you how frightening and fascinating it was to see people coming and going loaded down with these demonic entities. At times I would go into a restaurant and watch in sheer horror as patrons came and went loaded for bear, some with ten, fifteen, twenty or more. “What could these people be doing that they were literally bathed in these entities?”
The horrible thing for me was I had no control over “seeing.” Suddenly, my eyes had been opened to another world and my cup was full with my own problems. It seemed that I had no room for more.
It is said that God will not give you more that what you can handle. But in this sense, clearly I challenged God. I could not handle this cup!
The awe of what was happening imprisoned me. I ran for more of Jack from sheer terror. My sense of aloneness was further compounded by the reactions of others. My Mother said, “You are sounding just like your father.” Other would cut me off in mid-sentence or hang up the telephone when I started to speak of these experiences. They thought I was crazy. Even a dear fellow psychologist I had known for years said he thought I was schizophrenic. I consulted various churches and talked to various ministers. They would imply that I was dealing with less than a full deck or just withdraw.
God started giving me something else about this time, the uncanny ability to know a person’s heart, especially about spiritual matters. In visiting a church and talking with a minister, I would get a picture of his real connection with God. What I saw began to repel me from churches. If a minister could not explain what had happened to me, I knew I did not belong in his church. I reasoned that if they had a close connection with God, they would know that God had given me something special.
I started reading every spiritual book I could find. I spend thousands of dollars on books within the next five or six years. I read Christian, Buddhist, New Age, American Indian and any spiritual book about another’s journey. If it looked like I could learn something, I would read it. The greatest spiritual benefit I reaped from all this reading and studying was a refined sense of discernment. God would speak subtly to me as I read and suddenly I would know the truth about what I was reading. I needed this schooling to work on discernment, to readily tell if something is a lie or the truth, to be able to tell if God is speaking, if the devil is speaking, or if the author is speaking pretending to be God.
Many will write as if it is God speaking. The gift to know who is really speaking can only come from God through His Holy Spirit. This is the gift of discernment in operation, and it is a test of perseverance and faith.
With all my soul, I wanted to be healed of the terrible hold of alcohol. So, I entered an alcohol rehab in the spring of 1989. Within very few days of getting to this center, I realized that a precious spirit was trapped within the center. From my bed, I watched her night after night, as she favored a room next to mine. She was a young woman, dressed as if she might have lived in the sixties. I saw images of her whirling around a large lake in a boat with an older man. I did not see the lake take her life, but I had a strong feeling that she had drowned in this lake.
The two staying in that room knew a spirit kept them company. In the middle of the night these frightened women would run often into the hallway, crying out.
When all were downstairs for early morning classes, this distraught spirit could be heard roaming the hallways above. I took note of others looking around the huge table counting faces.
One night, I called upon The Lord with all my inner strength. “Lord, I am deeply saddened for the plight of this lost soul. Please, I beg of you. Send your precious angels to guide her back to you.”
The guardian angels came, a pair of two dressed in beautiful white robes with hoods. That spring night in 1989 a precious soul was carried home. Glory to God!
When I got out of rehab, I had no money and no place to go. My son, who had gone to live with his father at age 13, had become a full-blown drug addict. At age sixteen, he came back to live with me, deeply incorrigible. I ask you, “How can a practicing alcoholic care for a practicing drug addict?” He alienated everyone, who tried to help him and wound up at a rescue mission at age seventeen.
After rehab, a black woman by the name of Easter took me in. She had a halfway house in the most dangerous part of Little Rock, AR. Six to seven of us shared two, small rooms, and paid twenty five dollars a week for food and board. I worked odd jobs and prayed and prayed. Each day was a reminder to me that I never wanted to go back. I had been arrested twice for alcohol abuse and had lived homeless. I had worked in a bar making just enough to pay daily to live in a seedy motel, to scrounge for food and Jack. These memories still bring tears to me eyes.
Alcohol and drugs quickly steal the lives of the unsuspecting. Addictions are difficult and deadly diseases. People with addictions are hounded day and night by huge numbers of demonic entities. These hang on the unsuspecting and goad them into drinking and drugging. These feed the obsessions, which fan the addictions.
After three months, I moved out of the halfway house. God took me to a place out in the country. Rent was a blessing at only $100.00 a month. My son came home to live, but this was very hard, as he was still addicted.
One afternoon, he came home from work in a daze. I said, “Son, you shot up something today. I know it.”
“No Mom, I promise. I did not.”
Yet, beneath the wild eyes and erratic behavior was another truth. On his back was a disembodied spirit. I saw him goading my son into shooting up. A little time and some checking told me that I was right.
Disembodied spirits are spirits of people who die but refuse to cross over to the other side. They are lost and confused, loving some facet of this life so much that they refuse to leave it. Most people do not realize that even in death or absence of the body, we make choices.
Soon after moving into the mobile home, I became aware of another spirit. At night, I could hear it going through the pots and pans making noise. In time this spirit started taking things. He particularly liked to steal my son’s cigarettes. One day as I was cleaning the kitchen, I became aware that it had stolen a glass of water I was drinking only a few seconds before.
I sat down and prayed a deep prayer from the depths of my soul and I could see the spirit of an elderly man with gray hair. I begged Jesus to send His precious angels to take this soul back to him. Immediately I saw two guardians dressed in white headed toward me. One had a white robe in his hands and was offering it to me.
“Take this and wear it,” the angel said. “It is a gift from God for you.”
“So, I took the white robe, put it on, and have been wearing it ever since. I watched as the angels took this poor soul, one on each side of him, and they disappeared from sight.
As for my son, you’ll be glad to know that he went to rehab twice, and has been clean for three years. Still, we carry miles of distance between us. Spiritually, he is struggling. He blames for me his failures and refuses to forgive me. I am greatly sorrowful. For I love him dearly.
By the fall of 1990, I was feeling really lonely. I told God that if He intended for me to be single the rest of my life, this would be fine. More than anything, I wanted to do the will of God.
I had been single eleven years since the last marriage. I had been hoping for a mate but not seriously looking, as my fears of failure were so great. One night I poured out every last bit of sorrow to Jesus and shared with Him my deep hurts, my old wounds. A great peace suddenly settled in on me. If He had no one for me, I would continue on in peace knowing this to be His will. Above all, I wanted to live the will of God.
About a month after this conversation with Jesus, I had a dream. In this dream, a man came up to me and took me by the arm. We walked across a solid crystal walkway, flooded from beneath and above with pure, white light. At the end of walkway, we headed into this pure, white-light radiance and disappeared.
“Son,” I said, “God is sending me someone.”
In very few days a letter came to the house, which said, “Welcome to the Happy Birthday Club.” This sure looked like a scam, but it listed various names, addresses and telephone numbers of those involved. This letter was nagging me to respond.
Dennis Newkirk from Little Rock was listed. After a month or so, I gave him a call to see if this were a scam. We talked back and forth on the phone for several weeks, and finally he asked us out to eat. Right away, I knew this was the one from the dream, as he was short, had dark hair and such a sweet spirit.
As weeks went by I knew that I was falling in love with this man, and began to cherish every moment with him. He was deeply in debt from a recent divorce. He had nothing, and I had nothing.
My immune system had been poor since 1981, when I had been taken with fevers, severe arthritis, rashes, seizures and a tendency to catch other illness easily. Bizarre illnesses had plagued me for years and I had no idea why. I did not know the extent of my illness when we married. There was never a name. But, time would show that my husband married a real liability.
After knowing one another for four months, we were married. That was nearly seven years ago. We still live in the same place and have to watch our pennies. I have not been able to work in years because of immune system failure related to silicone breast implants I received in 1973.
Never could I have imagined that doctors, medical institutions, research universities and the press could lie and cover up to such a grand scale about something, which is killing more and more women every day. The decision to get these to hide a flat chest has been another cross for me to bear. As King Solomon would say, “vanity.”
When I determined that these implants could cause illness, I got them out immediately. But, my problems only intensified. The surgeon who took them out spilled silicone on my chest wall. Immune problems, which had been only nagging, became severe. I developed full-blown Systemic Lupus. Peripheral nerves became inflamed and started to die. White spots appeared in my brain and my frontal lobe started to shrink. I became so tired that I could hardly remember my name at times. Memory problems became an everyday thing.
Yet, through all this, my precious husband has stood by me. He has held my hand through many bizarre illnesses and hospitalizations. He has made many a trip with me to emergency rooms, and has stood by me to witness the horrors of meningitis, which lasted for sixteen months. Every day of my life I thank God for Dennis. In the midst of all this suffering, God was not far from my mind. For many years I had made a practice of getting up at 4:00 AM to pray, meditate and read The Scriptures. Sometimes my mind would be so cloudy from the disease that I could hardly focus on my prayers. But I persevered, each day begging Jesus for a teacher. I reasoned that if only He would send me a teacher, I could understand what had happened and be strengthened spiritually. Others had spiritual teachers or mentors, why could I not have one?
About six months after my husband and I married I heard someone speaking to me in meditation. A great peace enfolded me with the presence of this voice. In short time I could see this person. He identified himself as the prophet, Moses. His countenance was of white light radiance. He was dressed in white and had a long, white beard. At first, I was frightened. Was this really Moses and if he were why did he pick me?
He continued to appear to me almost daily starting in the spring of 1991 and continuing for about six months. He taught me about spiritual things and gave me spiritual understanding where I was lacking. He gave me simple messages about Jesus and Father Jehovah. Deep within my heart, I knew he was Moses. The language was so simple and comforting.
I shared the nature of these messages with someone in San Francisco, who had a computer website. He was interested in these messages and shared them with others. In a short time Jesus took the place of Moses in these messages and began speaking to me like a dear friend. I sat for lengthy conversations and wrote what He had to say. He gave me greater spiritual understanding and grave warnings for troubled times ahead if people did not come back to the living of The Laws of Love and The Ten Commandments.
Back then, I was attacked from many sources. The devil worshipers really came after the man with these messages. They threatened to kill him and taunted him day after day. Others, who did not believe in Jesus, reviled me. These messages were largely rejected in a part of the country where the greatest numbers are spiritually bankrupt.
I was deeply saddened as God opened up my vision further to show me the cult of devil worshippers having orgies with children and even sacrificing children. This horror story gripped me. It depressed me. It stole my peace day after day.
One day, I said, “Jesus teach me how to fight this. Teach me how to go up against this evil. I cannot stand to look at this day after day.”
He said, “Child, bind them. Bind the evil demons and send them out.”
I called in warrior angels with great swords of light and asked for their help. I went in The Spirit of God and took giant nets of Spirit and tossed it over and around these huge, dark ugly demons. They fought. They hissed and cursed. They were strong. I cried for help, as I felt like such a babe, and this was a great job for someone so young in spiritual matters. But, the angels and I persevered. This war seemed to use up every last bit of my energy, as I did not know how to replenish myself with The Holy Spirit as I know now. Neither was I at the point to carry as much Spirit of God as I do now.
So, I fought, and won victories for God, however small. Yet, I lost. I got more and more sickly. But, still I persevered. Out of the blue someone would call me about someone lost to devil worship. And, I would go again with the angels in spirit to fight this evil.
Over the years, God has amplified my vision in detection of evil spirits. I allow them no place in our house or around my husband or me. He brings them home regularly from the mental hospital, where he works. Every day I bind any and all demons and send them into The Pits of Hell in the name of Jesus Christ, to remain there until He releases them. For the disembodied spirits, I call on The Guardians, who coax them into heaven, as I have told you previous. Spiritual warfare has been an intricate part of my work for God. It is not one I look forward to, as it is a war, but I work willingly for My God that people may be free.
By the grace of God, I have not touched a drop of alcohol since April 25, 1989. God has told me that He will heal me. The breast cancer about which doctors lied is steadily shrinking and the problems with the autoimmune disease is largely under control from taking nutritional supplements. Jesus sent me information about what to take through the mail. I put my faith and trust in Him, and my faith grows steadily as Jesus reveals Himself constantly through His love, compassion, faithfulness and mercy. I know with all my heart and soul that Jesus truly is Our Savior. No one can prophesy without this knowing.
In the following pages, I share the spiritual experiences given to me by Jesus and Our Most High God, Jehovah. It is my hope that these experiences will help strengthen your spiritual walk.
When I speak of Jesus Christ, remember that He is One with The Father (John 10:30). He has said to me, “See me as THE BRANCH, and The Father as THE TREE.” When Jesus signs off in the writings as: I am Jesus. Yea Jehovah Most High God, remember that He is One with The Father. Know that Jesus is The Way, The Truth and The Life, (John 14:6), and The Light (John 8:12). He is your Way, your Truth, your Light and your Life. Understand this through and through and know it with all your heart. This is the nature of Jesus.
After the horrible devil fights in California I ceased writing for a while. Survival took priority, as the illness became so intense. Still, I would get up about 4:00 am to read the scriptures, pray and meditate. My heart became so heavy in 1995 and 1996 for the weights upon me.
I determined to go after the doctor, who dumped silicone in my chest and to make the irresponsible breast implant manufacturers pay. But, it was not God’s will for me to be involved in any kind of payback, lawsuits or any waste of time in this kind of thing. He closed every door I tried to open. He turned others on me with a vengeance. One woman began stalking me and stalked me for over one and one half years.
I withdrew more and more into The Lord. I filled every waking moment with thoughts of Him and His majesty. With every breath He and His purposes were not far from my heart. I desired more than anything to walk in humility and submission before Him.
Month after month my early morning prayer was the same. “God, show us the way. Please don’t let us be lost in the darkness. I beg of you, please, please help us!”
On the night of May 9, 1997 I had a recurrent dream of walking with my husband through great darkness An individual with powerful eyes, dressed in white, appeared and reappeared throughout the night, urging me to read Psalms. I got up about 3:00am and came out into the living area. I prayed to God, and asked him what the dream meant. His loving voice said, “Read Psalms 18.”
Hurriedly, I read through this scripture, which is a song spoken to The Lord by David in the day that The Lord delivered him from the hand of all his enemies, and from the hand of Saul. When I got to verse 28, I knew that God was speaking to me through this Psalm. Verse 28 says: “For, thou wilt light my candle: The Lord, My God will enlighten my darkness.” As I look back on this I see the powerful prophecy in these words. I am so deeply humbled by God’s love.
On May 15, 1997, I had a dream of traveling along, trying to get back to a school where I had been before. I got lost and found myself on a narrow mountain road, curving around the outside of the mountain. The headlights on my car didn’t work. I was not wearing my glasses and could see nothing. Fervently I prayed to God to help me find my way. (This dream is pushing me to let go of any dependence on the dark mountain of self and reach out to God. The earthly glasses cannot help me on this journey. It involves a leap of faith off the dark mountain to His Mountain. At this point, I would have no idea of the great role His Holy Mountain would play in receiving these prophecies and growing in His Spirit. This dream is so important as it bring me to new levels in Him that I could never have imagined a few years before. Read on.)
Suddenly, I was at the bottom of the hill amidst much light. I found two children, and asked them if they could tell me where the school was located.
From their directions, I found the school with no problem. (This is the school of the prophets.) It was situated atop a mountain, illumined brightly with a golden white light.
Another person, who was not traveling with me, found the school at the same time. We were both greeted by someone from the school, who was dressed in white. I shared with the one dressed in white my experiences of being lost on the dark mountain. As we stood on the illumined mountain, this one attired in white fed each of us something like ice cream. (Mind you, this was not ice cream, but something of this consistency.)
After eating, I turned to look far across the valleys to hills in the distance. I could read what was written on the hills far away, even though a mist was forming near the tops of the mountains. In the dream, I marveled that I had 20/20 vision. (Would I ever get vision! Like never before!)
In the early morning hours of May 16, 1997, Jesus spoke to me in meditation and said, “You will be given many visions. Have no fear. Walk with me.” (At this time, there was no way of knowing just how many visions I would get. But as you read on and study what He has given you will be shocked at the depth of these words.)
Since that time, I have had many visions, indeed. I am reminded of a passage in Ecclesiastes 1:18, which says, “For, in wisdom is much grief: And, he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.”
My sorrow runs deep for a people who are asleep. Soon, war and destruction shall fall upon The USA and most of the world.
The following is an excerpt from one of my most troubling, earlier visions.
On the morning of May 24, 1997, I saw Satan stand above The Earth. He had puppet strings attached to the leaders of the world, even and especially The United States of America. One of the darkest and heaviest strings was attached to The Congress of The USA, another to The United Nations, one to Russia, one to Germany, one to China, one to Mexico, one to Africa and one to The Arab Alliance. These were large, dark, heavy strings.
Then, Jesus said, “Look!”
I looked and saw a cloud, red and noxious, emerge from Russia, striking out across The Atlantic Ocean and settling beneath the sea. Dark submarines surrounded The USA and lurked silently in the deep waters of the oceans. Then I saw a man in a watchtower and heard him say, “We are ready.”
The writing beneath the watchtower read: “USSR.” The soldier in the watchtower was watching The USA.
As he watched, dark storm clouds gathered over The USA, and Satan pulled the thick puppet strings of Russia, Germany, China, Mexico, The Arab Alliance and The United Nations. They came together to form a line against The USA.
Then, Jesus said, “Behold!”
I looked to see a mother carrying a new babe. On the mother’s feet and wrists were chains. The chains had no locks; she could be free if she wanted to be. But, the woman still saw herself as in chains, in bondage. The baby was crying for milk, but the mother’s breasts were dry.
The mother was a giant among mothers, and stood tall, but her knees were those of a puppet; her legs were wooden. Her eyes were blinded with a heavy, dark covering, and, where there should have been pupils and irises, there were none. She wore the eyes of the blind beggar. Across her chest was the USA Flag. The baby wailed.
Then, I heard the voice of Jesus say, “And lo, Behold!”
Suddenly, from the sky, a hangman’s noose appeared. As I looked, I could see that it was attached to those, who had the dark, heavy attachments to the puppet master. These dark attachments went to Russia, Germany, China, Mexico, The Arab Alliance and the United Nations. They controlled the hangman’s noose. The noose was fitted snugly around the neck of the woman. It was tightened, and the eyes of the woman bulged. As this happened, the pupils and irises of the woman returned. She was near death. She dropped the baby, and as it broke into 1,000 pieces, I saw that it was made of clay.
Then, Jesus said, “Behold!”
And, like a thief in the night, the submarines began to fire upon the USA. These are the areas I saw hit by the bombs, but not necessarily in this order: 1.Los Angeles; 2 A desert area; 3 Dallas; 4 Houston; 5 Little Rock; 6 Minnesota; 7 New York City; 8 Mobile; 9Chicago; 10 Cincinnati; 11Pennsylvania; 12. St. Louis; 13 Washington DC (three times); 14 Atlanta (one fizzles in air, but others hit) 15Virginia; 16 Florida (several locations); 17New Orleans; 18 Ohio, again; 19Kentucky; 20 Tennessee (two places); 21Michigan (four places); 22Oklahoma City; 23 Cheyenne, Wyoming; 24 Alaska; 25 Hawaii. These are not all, but they are the majority.
The woman fell and great numbers of people lay dead and dying. In many areas, the bombs killed only the people and left the buildings. The evil ones had plans for the mighty buildings of Babylon. But, the soil and the water were contaminated and the food was not fit to eat.
When this country falls others will go in like fashion. All will turn on each another until Lucifer has his face off with Jesus Christ. But Lucifer will lose, and so will those who follow him. The punishment for those who follow will be severe.
The above vision reinforces another shorter and less detailed vision I had on May 16, 1997. In that vision I saw a nuclear war take place in The USA in 1998. I saw white fire shoot across New York City. Outside lay snow.
Many subsequent visions show war beginning in the USA near mid-December, 1998. An economic collapse, seen in 1991, will precede this war.
One day in early summer of 1997, I was out in the garden under a shade tree praying. As I prayed a radiant angel dressed in white appeared to me. The angel said, “Follow me.”
As I began to follow the angel, I found myself in spirit climbing a very tall mountain. Finally, we came to the top of this mountain. At this point that I knew that this was no ordinary mountain. It shone with a radiance, and the experience was full of light and joy. A few weeks later I ran across a passage from Isaiah 2:2.
“And, it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills;
and all nations shall Flow into it.”
What I did not realize in the garden that summer day was that this journey up The Mountain of The Lord was just the beginning of a long series journeys up The Mountain. Time after time, I have been deeply humbled by the truths given of Our Precious Lord from the heights of This Mountain. These journeys have brought great light into the life of a simple person, whose greatest desire is to serve God.
In early summer of 1997, My dear brother deeply prayed for God to give me the gift of speaking in tongues. God answered his prayers. Amidst the beauty of this heavenly language, and on the wings of His Holy Spirit, God takes me regularly to the heights of His Mountain where he feeds me.
In the pages which follow, you will read much about your destiny. The heavenly truths imparted to you through these pages will forever change the lives of many.