Witness by Lloyd Johnson
March 3, 2012
As many of our friends at All Saints know, I am a “sort of” retired priest of the Episcopal Church. “Sort of retired” because most Sundays find me and Janie in one of the small rural congregations between San Antonio and the Gulf. When we’re in town, we like to worship at All Saints.
Back in December I was preparing for a revision surgery of a knee replacement I had had in January of 2005. After attending the Advent Lessons and Carols, Janie suggested that I ask Fr. Chip to pray for me, especially for the knee.
We found him and several others in the church and made our request. Fr. Chip put his hand on my knee, and the others put their hands on my shoulders. During the prayer, I felt an intense heat move from Fr. Chip’s hand into my knee.
The only “like” I can find is the time a dentist repaired the enamel on one of the crowns in my mouth. After painting the enamel on the crown, he applied some kind of hot iron to bond the enamel and the crown. It was so hot that I could smell burning protein. The heat from Fr. Chip’s hand was about three times as intense, though I wasn’t burnt.
I’d like to be able to share that the surgery turned out not to be necessary, but no. It was done on the 28th of December.
I was unconscious, of course, so the doctor spoke with Janie and my daughter. “I don’t know how he was able to walk,” he said. “It must have been like walking on a broken leg with two broken bones.” When he opened my knee, the pieces just fell out, none of them being connected.
I know that Fr. Chip doesn’t heal anyone. I also know that the Lord Jesus does heal when His people pray. I believe that our Lord both eased my way into the surgery, and He’s helping me recover much faster than the medical team thought possible.
For the Kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power. – 1 Corinthians 4:20
God Works through the Gift of a Book
September 6, 2011
Father Chip sent the book The Sword of the Spirit, The Word of God to Senior Pastor Thomas Oscar, Co-Founder of the New Life Gospel Fellowship in Faisalabad, Pakistan.
Pastor Oscar wrote to Father Chip:
I really thank you in God for this book. For me this is not just a good book but this is a great blessing for me, my family and my Christian community where I am performing my pastoral activities. I have started reading the book and read the passages quoted in the book. I keep the Holy Bible with me to read same passages in the Bible too. I meditate on the passages. I found this book very useful to make life holy, for healing and fight with the demons, devil and all its powers. This is a unique book it covers almost all aspects of our spiritual life.
My loving Father as I am reading the Book I got a revelation from God to translate this book into my local language (Urdu) and distribute in my local community here so that my local community will be benefited from it. First I will read it and meditate on it deeply and ask help from God. Then I will start translate it. I am sure this book will be very much fruitful for the people who can not read English they will get this book in their local language.
How awesome that God takes the simple gift of a book and uses it to reach a whole community of Christians in a non-Christian nation more than eight thousand miles away.
Bragging on God Time by Robyn Tate
June 23, 2011
OK, so I just gotta brag on God for a minute: A recent Friday was our deadline day at work, which means everyone is always scrambling to complete as many insurance cases as we possibly can before the end of the day. It’s usually crazy busy and rather stressful as we are always at the mercy of the insurance carriers getting us what we need to complete them and generally have the sales teams breathing down our necks to get their cases completed so they make their monthly quota and get their commission.
On a “good” deadline day we usually close about 40-50 lives. Last week we started Friday morning short of our goal by 132 lives and to top it off we had one particularly upset client who, of course, knew someone who was somebody and was making all kinds of threats if we didn’t get his case completed….Typically I would have been stressed but for some reason last week God gave me a peace and calmness that surpassed the circumstances (even when the angry broker was yelling at me). So I prayed for God to move and show His hand and enable us to close that case along with a few others that were close to completion and would give us a total of 75 lives (way above the average but not close to our goal…).
What happened, you ask? Well, not only were we able to close those three cases to get the 75 lives … we ended up closing over 200 lives for the day (which is totally unheard of) and surpassed our monthly goal by 68 lives!!!! Go, God!!!! Thank You, Jesus 
But the story doesn’t end there. Yesterday while in the copy room one of the senior sales reps happened to be in there and thanked me for everything my team and I did to help them make their goal (as they were the team that were WAY behind). I thanked her for her compliment but told her that it wasn’t me it was TOTALLY God. I told her how I had prayed for Him to step in and show His hand that day. After thinking about it for a minute (and being a Christian herself), she agreed and acknowledged that it had to be God’s hand. Then today while we had a new brokerage firm touring our facility this same sales rep brought them over and introduced them to me and, after telling them how long I have been with the company and my experience, proceeded to tell them “and she prays over our cases” and about the 200 lives we closed out in one day. I was totally blown away by their response and how God used that one opportunity to reveal His hand and provide a witness to many about how much He cares for us and is concerned about every little detail of our lives.
Thanks you Jesus for caring so much for me and for hearing and answering my prayers and blessing these people! May it remind them how truly wonderful You are and be a seed to remind them also to turn to you in prayer in all things! Thank You, Jesus!
Crashing the Party by Jason Dass
May 12, 2011
I’m crashing the party, ladies. (See testimonies from Ellen and Tracy.) APPARENTLY I’m supposed to give my testimony. So, with a few caveats, here it is.
OK, so God’s been riding me to do this for awhile. Luckily, I’m stubborn, or it’d be done by now. 
A few things about my writing style:
1- I start, and I neither edit nor delete anything when I’m telling a story where details matter, like this one.
2- Mine simply won’t be as hard-hitting as most you’ve seen already. Some parts will be funny, others sad, but I’ve had it easy.
3- I will be honest, but I will leave some parts out in the interest of not hosing myself. If you find that you are curious, I will answer your questions face-to-face.
4- Enjoy, I don’t do this often.
Some lady: “Who gave birth to that tank!?!?!”
My Mom: *raises her hand* “I did.”
I was the only boy born in that hospital in Banning, CA on that day. I was 10 lbs. 4 oz. and 22” long. My mother was 5’3” and petite. She was in labor for 48 hours, or some ridiculous number similar to it. I was always a happy kid, excepting the few circumstances where I did something foolish and got hurt. My first memory is my temperature being taken after they put me in a baby scale. With a rectal thermometer. Yes, I remember it.
Family first.
Long story short: Life was good as a kid in SoCal. I went to a Baptist private school. I remember one day where the fog was so thick, I could only see a foot or so in front of me. I sprinted into it full tilt until I felt like stopping. Then I walked around until I found my way out.
Smart? No.
Fun? Heck yes!
Well, as things progressed, my Dad was into drugs a bit. A lot. I don’t remember much of this. All I remember is that he and my Mother loved me. Well, that and my Mom coming in covered in McDonald’s milkshake, crying. Now, don’t get me wrong, my Dad wasn’t abusive, toward us kids anyway. My sister and I were always well-loved. My Mom…. Well, we’ll get there.
My parents divorced. That was when my world shattered. Everything came apart. I don’t really remember much. I know my parents separated. I remember living in the back of some old lady’s house. We had enough to eat. We even went out to Taco Bell once a month or so. Life was good. I had friends, but more importantly, I had my sister.
Now, this one always makes my Mom cry. One time, we cleaned out someone’s garage, and my Mom gave me $30 for helping. Keep in mind, this was 1987 or so. That was a pile of cash to a 6 or 7-year-old kid. And the first thing I bought was a VHS tape of Two Men and a Baby for my Mom. I probably got ripped off, but I didn’t care.
Fast forward a few years, and…
My parents get together again. We move to an apartment in Oregon (great place, BTW, you should go there sometime). Then we move into a house. My Dad introduces me to the NES. Great stuff. We played Mario Brothers games together for a bit. I was always the fat kid in school. I never worried too much about it. Not that I remember. I did stupid, childish things and got away with them. Nothing much to talk about here, really.
In high school, I got picked on a lot. Until people realized that I was bigger than them. And I informed them in no uncertain terms that if they were to fight me, they’d better kill me. Because if I lived, I would find them later with a blunt object and beat them until they were unrecognizable. Now you’re asking yourself, where’s the nice guy I know? Same guy. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t believe it either.
I got a couple girlfriends starting at 17. Stephanie was my introduction to wicca, which I wouldn’t follow up on for a few years yet. Then I met Julie. Beautiful girl. Crazy as the day was long. Well, I cheated on Stephanie with Julie. Never could admit that before. And in case you’re wondering, that was the skirt I chased into a church.
A church without a spine.
So, I started going to church. I was amazed. These were some of the weakest people I had ever seen. They talked about the Jesus in those kid’s pictures. Soft, weak, gently holding a lamb or a child or something. Disgusting. Not that I was much different, I was just a bit more aggressive than they were.
Fast forward again… Julie’s pregnant, tells me that the only option I have is to move in with her parents. I tell her that I would sooner shoot them. Or something to that end. We don’t get married. She hated me for awhile. Probably with good reason. I was a jerk. I was around David (my son) every time she would stop hating me long enough to let me near. I taught him to effectively break rules without getting caught. The best lesson? No. But it’s what I knew.
Spirituality without substance.
So I got into paganism. Joined a coven of witches even. I went seeking something supernatural. What did I get? Other than some helpful lessons in visualization… Not much. I saw energy flow a couple times. Some friends who eventually turned on me. Oh, and a host of evil spirits that plague me to this day.
Don’t believe in the supernatural? I would stop reading now. It just gets better from here. “Odin” chose me. And I accepted him as my patron “god.” Wacky, right?
Giving up on life.
So, after the falling out with the coven, I met a girl named Lisa. Great girl. She really was. Gentle, caring, kind. I had stopped caring about life at this point. I just kept working to buy guns and go shooting. It was the only thing that I really enjoyed.
And Lisa was caught in the middle of this. Nothing much needs to be said about her, really. Just a nice girl.
“I’ll never trust a two-timing woman again.”
I said that. It was at MCT (Marine Combat Training), and I had just been dumped over the phone by Lisa. Now, one thing I have found to be generally true. Women don’t move on without finding someone else first. So I assumed I knew what had happened. I just wasn’t around. No biggie. But I swore on that day to never trust again. I could trust my Marines, but no one else. And y’know what? My Marines never betrayed me.
Now… Why would a girl like Lisa leave such a wonderful, caring, likable guy like me? *snorts* I wouldn’t marry her. I watched my parent’s marriage fall apart. I watched it shred my family. Apparently a patch of my hair fell out during the divorce. Never grew back.
After that, I would meet women in bars, and they would ask me to buy them a drink. Now, they could get all the free drinks they wanted by just being hot. But they asked me. To get my attention.
My response? “Heck no! You people are too expensive!”
Whoa! Where’d the nice guy go? I don’t know. He came back from time to time.
Semper I.
So, I was in Monterey, CA. I was getting my training. All I did was drink, really. And somewhere between drinks and the clanking of bottles, I graduated A School. My drinking slowed down at my B School. And it stopped (for the most part) after I met my wife in 2008.
How hot can it get here?
So, here I am in San Antonio. This place is retarded. The heat, the humidity. Gah! Who would voluntarily live here? I came across this chick’s profile on MySpace or Facebook or something. About as cute and hot as they get. *screeches to a halt* She’s got a kid? Hmm… I always swore I would never date a chick with a kid… *feelings of apprehension disappear* Ah well, she’s cute. Why not?
I found out later that God was working to bring us together. How? I asked Him. Ha!
Fast forward almost 3 years. We had a lot of good times. We both fell in love within 24 hours of our first date. We’d gotten to know each other online for a good bit before that. Now, the real fireworks begin…
What the heck? She’s dumping me? What the heck did I do? At this point, I almost punched her. I came so close… Ugh. Anyway. Then I asked the fateful question…
Did you sleep with him?
She replied: “I don’t think you need to know that.”
I repeated the question.
She replied: “Yes.”
Here, I almost went full tilt into her. Violence like most people couldn’t imagine. I (Not likely, probably God) restrained myself (me). Now, if you’ve only met me recently, you’re asking yourself: Who is this guy?
Let me explain. The only people outside of her that I trusted were my Marines. They didn’t betray me. Betrayal. To a Marine, especially one like me, this was the most awful, soul-crushing thing you could do. I loved her. Openly and honestly. And she did THAT!?!?!?!?
Oh yeah, I did it too. Yup. You read that. And a year and a half or so before she did. Then I lied to her about it. And to my friends. To my Marines. To myself even. I couldn’t stand the fact that I’d done it. It made me physically ill to think about it. So I lied. What a jerk, right?
Yup. I agree. Difference: I did it once. She did it repeatedly, while I was taking care of her child. And after I asked her not to, she went back, and did it again. The whole time she was thinking: “I hope this hurts him.” Well, it did.
Now, don’t get stupid. I’m married to that woman. You say the wrong thing, I will teach you a lesson. Just something to keep in mind.
This ain’t hell, but you can see it from here.
I didn’t eat, or really sleep for 3 days.
He’s waiting to die as he sits all alone
He’s a man in a cell who regrets what he’s done
He utters a cry from the depths of his soul
“Oh Lord, forgive me. I want to go home”
Then he heard a voice somewhere deep inside
And it said “I know you’ve murdered
And I know you’ve lied
And I’ve watched you suffer all of your life
And now that you’re listening I’ll, I’ll tell you that I…”
I will love you for you
Not for what you have done or what you will become
I will love you for you
I will give you the love, the love that you never knewJJ Heller, What Love Really Means
Huh? What is this nonsense? This is where I almost ended up. Seriously.
What does the giving end of a .45 ACP taste like?
Nasty. It tastes nasty. I didn’t pull the trigger, though. That little girl I love so much, she wouldn’t get out of my head. The thought wouldn’t leave me alone. So I put the .45 away. I didn’t think about anyone else. All I could think about was how much it hurt. And this wasn’t the first, or the last time I would find myself with my .45 in hand, wondering if I’ll do it this time. I guess I just didn’t want it bad enough.
I’ve had 2 friends commit suicide. Yes, I knew what it would do to others. I didn’t care. But that little girl. That little girl. All God had to do was keep me thinking about her. And He did. I couldn’t leave her. Forget everybody else. But I couldn’t hurt her. Not her. She saved me.
Ripples.
So, a friend of mine was counseling me. He pointed out that this was affecting not just myself and Ellen, but so many people all around us. I looked at him and said “This stinks of the hand of God.” I also got support from her family. And I got good advice (more or less) from friends.
“Leave her.”
“Sounds like it’s time for you to do you.”
“Once a cheater always a cheater.”
I mean, that kind of advice works in this world, right? It makes sense to most people. Not me. I loved her. I couldn’t bring myself to ask her to marry me for the reasons noted earlier, but she was family. I had actually decided to ask her while she was playing in Arizona and Dallas. Wild, huh?
You NEVER give up on family. Now, I knew the risks. All she had to do was say no and find someone else. She is a gorgeous woman. It wouldn’t’ve been hard. But I knew where she’d come from. She’d die there. And I wouldn’t have her or my daughter getting sucked back into that lifestyle. So I fought. I made a decision that hurt. I fought. And she would call him when she was mad at me. And she was mad a lot. It felt like I was getting gutted every second of every day. But I kept going. I loved her. I’d give up when I was dead.
Who’s that old guy?
Turns out, it was Fr. Chip “The Padre” Harper. I walked into this church Ellen had suggested months before. All I hear is: “Now, you have to give up all occultic things..” Or something like that. In a stern, commanding tone. Discipline. He demanded discipline. I might just like this guy.
Now, it turns out, he was a retired officer. Air Force, no less. What? How? I thought these guys were all chubby gimps…. I was wrong. And Fr. Ed “Fred” Morgan, former Marine. Was this place made for me? Kinda.
So, I came to know Christ here. I’d kinda met him before, but all I was interested in was getting laid. But now I know the guy. Turns out he’s known me the whole time. Always been there, watching over me. I just ignored him. Well, I’m glad that’s over.
Oh, and the Ellen thing… Sorry guys, almost forgot. Well, God told her to try again with me. Yup. He opened her heart in a way all of my stubbornness and bullheadedness never could. Oh, and get this… She told me that she wanted to try again. But I had to coax it out of her. She was gonna tell me on Christmas. When I was in Oregon. And I wouldn’t be able to kiss her. OK, so I’d love the gift, but really? When I’m 2500 or so miles away? Who does that? My wife. My beautiful wife.
So, now I know God. And Christ. And the Holy Spirit. And all it took was the Enemy tripping me up, and kicking me in the teeth so hard that I had no one else to turn to. I’m still learning the specifics, but I’m almost there… Kinda. Apparently God has changed me. I was driving along, and I was wondering what I would do in the event that I was bleeding out and only had a minute or so. So, without thinking about it, I asked: “What would I do?” And God, as usual, poked His head in where I hadn’t expected it. He showed me.
Acts 2:16-18 (New American Standard Bible):
16 – but this is what was spoken of through the prophet Joel:
17 – AND IT SHALL BE IN THE LAST DAYS,’ God says,
‘THAT I WILL POUR FORTH OF MY SPIRIT ON ALL MANKIND;
AND YOUR SONS AND YOUR DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHESY,
AND YOUR YOUNG MEN SHALL SEE VISIONS,
AND YOUR OLD MEN SHALL DREAM DREAMS;
18 – EVEN ON MY BONDSLAVES, BOTH MEN AND WOMEN,
I WILL IN THOSE DAYS POUR FORTH OF MY SPIRIT
AND THEY SHALL PROPHESY.
So, I would pray. I would pray that my death wouldn’t destroy Ellen. That God would protect her and Aislyn. That was it. All of a sudden, the road was all blurry. And I must’ve suddenly become tired, because my eyes were all grainy or something. But I didn’t expect that. I argued with God. Makes sense, right?
“That’s not me, God.”
“Yes, it is.”
“What? No. Huh? Nah… Can’t be, God. I’m a jerk.”
“Really?”
“Sorry Lord…”
“It’s you, Son. You’re more than you give yourself credit for.”
“Well, I’ll take your word for it…”
Well, I still don’t see it, but apparently it’s there. I’m still learning, and I’ve got a long way to go. I hope this helps some of you. God was getting irritated that I hadn’t written it yet. So…
Peace of the Lord be with you, friends. I love you all.
And if you’ve read this, and think it may help someone, feel free to share it.
A Testimony of Healing and a Heart of Joy by Tracy Maunsell-Kowald
April 29, 2011
I was inspired by a testimony that left me speechless and in awe of our God. It was because she wrote it out and published it, I was able to share in her joy and the awe of such a great God. So with a bit of fear and great faith, I post the following:
For 7 years I have been in a funk, a funk that has taken me down some pretty dark paths and into a dark place. I couldn’t figure out why I was in such a funk, because God had blessed me with more children so shortly after taking drastic measures to be open to more blessings for which I had prayed many years.
I felt my world starting to collapse shortly after the birth of Ethan. Call it post partum, but I couldn’t pull off what I thought was going to be a picture perfect family and world that I had seen in others and so desired for myself. Wait a minute, this baby came into the world very high maintenance; he wasn’t calming and sleeping like the other two. He was messing up our school schedule. Church became burdensome because I was always out in the “cry room,” in which I would end up crying more frequently. Then 14 months later, God blessed us again with another baby. The news of his coming was met with content from others and shock. The birth of another baby boy brought more feelings of panic and joy at the same time, illness, busy high maintenance 2 year old and two emerging teenagers who desperately needed their mom, but I was wrapped up in the world of babies and creating my picture perfect world. The picture perfect part was falling apart at my feet. I wasn’t measuring up and I was failing as a Mom, the only thing I had ever wanted to be, I couldn’t do right.
Fast forward, my little baby boy doesn’t start talking and disappears into a happy little world of his own. 3 year old demands my time, teenagers have now decided I do not have the time. My picture perfect world is shattering, my faith is dwindling. False accusations and hearsay, and the betrayal of a “church” friend (or who ever) took my already low self confidence into a rock bottom nightmare, and the complete dump of whatever confidence and self worth I had left. That brought triggers that would send me into a tailspin with very little warning or touch of the trigger. What I didn’t know was that it was triggering pains from years and years past. Something that was shown me later. Pains of former betrayals and assaults that started the feelings of worthlessness and all the junk that went with that.
Fast forward, hubby retires from military career and shortly afterwards, yet news of another blessing. Instead of beaming with joy, I shrunk in fear of how I would do this. I had reminders of my inadequacies on a regular basis. My older two had pretty much written me off at this point as an effective mother(the way I saw it) as I was in survival mode constantly. My little boy was still not talking. Than a conversation that felt like a sucker punch to my gut, when I heard, “I am concerned about Evan… I think he might have autism.” At that point, my defensive walls went to the sky and I shut out all outside “concerns.” We were in denial of autism but did get him speech therapy that was beginning to help some.
Fast forward, daughter in her Senior year of home schooling, son in Sophomore barely hanging on to that, only by the help of an awesome co-op group of sisters who held me up and prayed for me. So when my baby was born, for a brief time at his birth, there was a look of concern from the doctor as he wouldn’t burst forward and wouldn’t cry. I cried out to the Lord, please I am sorry for any negative word I said about this pregnancy and the baby, just let him be ok. He cried and I cried and fell in love with this new baby God had given me.
But as real life set in yet again, and the feeling of being overwhelmed, fear and failure. I continued to sink. Here I stood at the graduation of my first born with a baby literally nursing at the time. I couldn’t fathom how I would raise these boys and be there for the “originals.” We made the very hard decision to put Ethan and Evan into public schooling. I took that as I had failed at homeschooling. Here I was sending my little ones into the lion’s den. We were waiting on results from the school testing on an official diagnosis for Evan. At that time, it was determined that “no, he did not have autism.” I rejoiced that he was simply speech impaired with sensory issues.
Fast forward, after about 3 months of school, the questioning of the diagnosis led us to have him more thoroughly tested. In January of 2010, we did get a formal diagnosis of autism. And the reality of the word hit me like a brick wall. All along, I was feeling very alone in my pain. My friends cared, but the triggers of past events started firing at every turn. And I honestly didn’t know which way was up. Anger set in as I blamed every one for my current state. Anger at God for not hearing my prayers. Anger and abandonment became my closest friends. My anger lashed out to those I loved in verbal vomit. And as they crashed I continued to crash.
Fast forward to many confusing times of trying to sort out facts and no one would give me answers, distrust and aloneness set in at the place where I needed Christian fellowship. Triggers being set which brought back pain, and again anger, anger at others, and anger at God.
Then Barry decided to make a change and it started with Ash Wednesday. We had attended All Saints Anglican Church on Christmas for the past 5 years and at one time seriously considered it as a church home. This was the choice of my husband, the leader of my family. But me in my selfishness and foolishness begged him to not go there, I had a list of excuses, but the reason was not wanting things to be more difficult than they already were with a 2 year old and a newborn. So with love for me he relented. That was my mistake, and was my sin in not trusting God and him. And for the next 4+ years we would be in a desert place. God would give us blessings and use us, but our labor was as if we were always heading into the wind and the time after time circumstances that followed were part of the consequences and tempering I needed to go through.
Ash Wednesday of 2011, Barry went for his reasons. Than the first Sunday of Lent gave us reason to go to church because our friend (“A”) would not be at our current church to help with Evan. So Barry said let’s try it. I went expecting the worst. Evan struggled with it but it wasn’t horrible, just a lot of outside of the service walking around. Barry came to get me for communion so we played tag team. When I looked up to take the bread “body” Fr. Chip smiled at me and I felt at home. That night both Barry and I were able to attend the fellowship/singing at All Saints. It was a blessing to meet the people and I still laugh as Jordan said my husband worried more than his Jewish mother. But he gave us words of wisdom and thoughts to chew on for the week.
On Wednesday, Barry rushed me out of the house to attend the evening study. I was welcomed with joy but my walls were up. 2nd Sunday of Lent we went to our church but that night I wanted to attend fellowship again.
That night while singing, God brought me to my knees, to a point where I had to totally surrender or I was going to spiritually die if not physically. I went for prayer and I was prayed over with power, a power I have never experienced. I have seen people use and abuse what they call speaking in the Spirit and other miraculous signs and my spirit has always said, “um no!” But not this time; this time it was the true Spirit of God speaking over me truth and seeking my heart in the deep places. Places the man that was praying had never known about me; how could he? And then he prayed for God to wash me as a new creature and let me tell you, I sensed the Holy Spirit almost take me down, not in a dramatic look at me way but It was so strong, It was like being in the ocean and a big wave catching you off guard, but this was warm and it was love, it was amazing. It was the complete opposite of the abandonment I had felt from God for quite a while. I felt like I wanted to crawl up in my Abba’s lap and soak up his love, never wanting to leave that place. I am still amazed and in awe.
The attacks from the enemy have been fierce since, the worst is the attack of insecurity and worth to our new church home. But He has been faithful to show me He is taking care of me in that. The next Sunday the ladies corralled me and began to pray. The peace and love I felt from them all was both comforting and empowering. I have pretty much brought forth my baggage with the purpose to clean out the strongholds so that I can be truly free. I still have work to do but God has shown himself faithful. He has revealed to me this Lenten season the former attitudes of my heart and the fact that knowledge does not equal faith. That I need to be continually filled with the Spirit of God because I am a leaky vessel. That I need to continually feed on the Word of God and I need to stay in close proximity to God’s people. I still have a lot of work to do. My fear, one of my biggest strong holds in and of itself, is that the other shoe will drop. It sounds so silly but it is frighteningly real. Much love and thank you for sharing my joy. Please keep praying for me as I continue to heal. The process is not fun but is necessary. I look forward to what God is going to do with me.
I praise God for all He is doing for me this Lenten season.
Ephesians 1:3
4 For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love 5 he[a] predestined us for adoption to sonship[b] through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— 6 to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves.
Hear my prayers, a testament of Faith by Ellen Dass
April 25, 2011
The Lord’s Prayer
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy Kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
the power and the glory,
for ever and ever.
Amen.
I was real young when my world came crashing around my ears and it continued to crash continuously for 19 years.
My family is not religious. My mom is a non-practicing Catholic and my father is agnostic was Southern Baptist (by?). We approached religion in a “hands-off” intellectual manner (meaning book learning and introduction to religion by friends). I vaguely knew of Jesus & God. I had a few encounters, but that’s getting ahead of myself.
So, a few years ago I attempted to read the Bible, starting with Genesis. My intent was to read cover to cover. My goal, to be able to argue with which ever bible thumping missionary that would knock on my door. And, I failed…miserably. I couldn’t get past a few pages. I also failed to realize that the Bible is a compendium. I could have started anywhere.
Now that I’ve finally learned this, I’ve found it easier to read and I go where God inspires me.
If you ever noticed throughout the Bible, as far as I’ve read (and I haven’t read the whole thing yet), whenever a believer/skeptic/non-believer calls the Lord out: “If you are truly God, prove it” “Do this, God, if you are real” “When I have the proof I’ll believe”, you know what God does? Nothing. That’s right, nothing. Who are we to call out our Creator and demand proof? We must first believe and God will bestow upon us blessings unimagined in our weak fallen-human imagination.
**How I lost my quasi-faith the first time**
I was born hearing-impaired along with my 2 sisters. I was teased mercilessly, bullied, had a speech impediment, and was actually put in special education because the teachers thought I was mentally retarded, or at least had some kind of learning disability. I was 9 when I prayed to a God I didn’t know or believe in, every night. “God, if you are real, please give me normal hearing.” “If you restore my hearing I’ll believe in you.” Needless to say, the prayers went unanswered. That summer, my world would REND ; I would be broken beyond repair. My faith in anything would be ripped from me and be replaced with fear, bitterness, and anger. I was sexually assaulted by someone that was supposed to be trusted. I was shattered and never the same. My parents thought I was rebellious, but I was too ashamed to tell them. I acted out at home and in school. Two years later, at the urging of my best friend, I finally gathered the courage to tell my parents. But they called me a liar. This further hurt me as one can only imagine.
For the next five years I struggled with disappointment, fear, worthlessness, and anger. I acted out continuously. Put on a brave face and died a little each day. I was building a wall of self-protection to keep people out. I was LONELY, but I made it to high school.
I became a binge-alcoholic, eventually reconnected and became involved in a Stockholm-esque (syndrome) relationship with the person that molested me the summer before my sophomore year in high school. Then, he broke my heart.
**See you At the Pole & Christian treachery**
My best friend was Christian. She was also, young, naive, gullible, and looking for leadership. So we joined the Christian Athlete’s Club (I don’t recall the name fully). That year we gathered for “See you at the Pole” ( http://syatp.com/). I was open and searching too. I’d been broken for so long that I was yearning to be healed. I invited the Holy Spirit in. The experience was life-altering at the time. I felt the burden lift, I felt FREE. I was overcome with indescribable joy, fell to my knees, crying, and praising Jesus. This is what I had been looking for during the preceding 5 years. Shortly afterward I was baptized (born again {after all- I had been baptized as a baby-per catholic tradition}), in my best friend’s church. But I didn’t realize that Christians are under attack. We are weak; we must maintain fellowship and pack away the WORD for it is our weapon, our armor, our sword, and our shield. I was unprepared. I was betrayed.
**Strife, life in high school (losing my God)**
Up to this point betrayal was already a normal part of my life. However, I didn’t expect it from my best friends. Rumors spread around about me. They were either fueled by or substantiated by my best friends. They didn’t defend me. I became more lonely and retreated to my walls. I tried to die. I willed myself to die. I was tormented. I tried counseling, drugs, changing my schedule,dropping out of school, suicide.
Suicide, an abomination.
**The Hand of God in face of my unbelief**
By conventional wisdom I should be dead 4-5 times over. Each suicide attempt (there were 3) was unsuccessful, and they should have succeeded. I have absolutely no ill effects from each attempt. No internal nor external damage to testify to the fact I’ve tried.
I should be scattered at the bottom of a ravine. Witnesses told me that the way my car hit the retaining wall at 80+ miles per hour, with more than half the car tilting over the edge of the wall over the ravine, by the laws of physics, should have gone over. I walked away angry and with a bruise. Did I praise God for his hand?
No, I was angry. He never answered my pleas at 9. He allowed me to be sexually assaulted. I was having troubles at home. Not long after, I moved out and spent some time homeless.
**More Failure**
I bounced around a lot. I was hurting. I was fighting with my family, physically as well as verbally (abuse both ways). I finally hit 18 and was OUT the door. I moved in with a good friend of mine and started working. I was moderately happy. But I was a terrible, weak sinner, I was promiscuous, I cheated etc. I met and started a relationship with an older co-worker that moved in with me (& my friend). The next 2 years were hell on earth. He quickly became verbally and physically abusive. He raped me, another co-worker friend raped me. My friends witnessed him beating up on me and did absolutely nothing. Where was God? Merciful, loving, forgiving God? Did he hate me? Was I being punished?
At 19, I became unintentionally pregnant. I was pressured by everyone to have an abortion. So I did. Things just kept getting worse. One day, I had enough of being a punching bag and called the police for help. I was arrested for “assault with bodily injury”. His injury? The knot we all have at the base of our skulls. Mine? A huge, quickly filling bruise on my left arm, a torn shirt with a scratch across my chest, a swelling bottom lip and jaw, a scuff on my right elbow where he kicked me with his steel-toed boots. I was 1/3 his size. God must hate me! How could a reasonable man arrest me and leave him free to wander the streets?
**The sky….I can’t tell if it’s still falling**
In short order: I was evicted, I lost my job, and to my humiliation, I had to move back in with my parents. I was desperate. I tried to join the Navy and Army, but due to my hearing impairment, despite my intelligence, my physical strength, and phenomenal memory, I was unable to secure a waiver and was denied entry. So, I met my first husband, at the Navy recruiting center. I thought it was fate. My ticket out. I was raped by a “friend” shortly after I started dating my future husband and he accused me of cheating on him. Yet, my worthlessness had me pleading and he stuck around….ish. I spent the next 7 1/2 years in hell. A loveless marriage, with a man that requested a baby so he could control me. Who couldn’t be reliable and kept fighting while in the Navy. He kept getting 45 day restriction, 6 months 1/2 pay, demotions, and spent the family money without consulting me. When our daughter was 7 days old, he and our roommate left our 2 bed, 2 bath, 2 story townhouse a WRECK, in UTTER disarray with out even putting together her crib before leaving on a 4 month turned 6 month deployment. He got out of the Navy and we moved back to Austin. He beat me over the head for having been a stay at home mother and overextended us on car loans and a mortgage. Right away he quit working leaving me to pay multiple notes and childcare, causing us to have the vehicles repossessed and the house foreclosed. Along with many many many things that will just take too long to list.
**Blink**
I must have blinked. I had been a single mother since my daughter was born. I spent my pregnancy unsupported and heckled by her biological father. And now, I found myself back at mom and dad’s. Humiliated and defeated again. Why God? What grievous sin did I commit at age 9?
**Hope?**
Then, when my daughter was 2, I met my savior, a Marine in San Antonio. He was intelligent, handsome, and willing to talk to me despite me having a child. I fell in love with him the first time I kissed him. This was LOVE! But, I still hated myself. I was still an angry petulant woman-child. I still retreated to my walls. So, 1 1/2 years into the relationship, in his weakness he cheated. Once, and immediately regretted it. He buried it so deep he forgot about it. Then, against my convictions I moved from Austin to San Antonio to be with him. I created a schism between us that would only deepen.
**I hope it hurt**
Four months before our 3 year anniversary I was offered a promotion, raise, training, and a free trip to the Grand Canyon. I was ecstatic, despite the gulf between us, I thought things would be ok; even though I’d be out of town a lot.I sinned. I was evil. I cheated, frequently, with glee and malice. I returned to it often over the course of 2 weeks. I didn’t know I had been hurting and all I could think was ” I hope it hurts” because he never showed me emotion (my reasoning). I clubbed my Marine with such an unfathomable betrayal. And I was remorseless. There could be no coming back from this, this was the kiss of death. But instead, a miracle (or folly?) happened. He fought for me! I’m not worth anything, why was he fighting for me?! I actually struggled with my decision to end the relationship. I sought counsel…. I skewed facts so that the advice would be what I was looking for.
I had a friend tell me about myself in the middle of the night in a gas station parking lot, I was driving back from Dallas(training) to San Antonio.
Then, I agreed to try going to church with my Marine, thinking nothing would come of it. After all, his encounter with the Christian faith had been dishonest due to chasing a skirt into Church. I felt that his past would dictate the outcome of our excursion to church and I’d be rid of him soon. What we didn’t know what that the first little church we attended would be the only one we’d check out. It’s our home now. The skeptic actually respected the priest (a feat in and of itself). God touched our hearts & we slowly came back. Our relationship began to heal as we began to heal. We’re human and are still dealing with the ramifications of our indiscretions.
**You want a miracle?**
We got married. (Kind of a surprise when you consider how soon after my betrayal it came.) ( Jason and I got married 3 months later, the day before our 3 year anniversary {only because our actual anniversary was on Sunday}) He accepted Jesus and was baptized, we were both confirmed and I started feeling happier. The presence of the Lord is awesome, joyful, gratifying, and peaceful. But God wasn’t/isn’t done with me by a LONG SHOT. I was partaking in personal ministry and sat in for a deliverance intercession. POWERFUL and incredibly spiritual. When we were done, my burden was lifted and my miracles, as noted by my husband:
1. I look younger, the fine lines on my face have disappeared.
2. I’m actually happy
3. will follow after this:
I AM NOT HEARING IMPAIRED ANYMORE. And guess what… It almost sucks! Things are LOUD! I can’t sleep at night anymore because I hear the downstairs neighbor whooping at all hours of the night! I need either ear plugs or ear muffs to vacuum because the noise pains me. I need BOTH to go shooting. And I have to learn to recognize the sounds I’ve never heard before. This is a hard work.
4. I’m losing my deaf accent.
Accepting Christ might bring salvation, but that’s the beginning of the journey. We are called to spread the good news. I am up in the middle of the night because God wants me to testify. Normally I’m sleepy by now, but I am wide awake. Heed the call Christians. The news is GOOD. He knows his plans for us. My journey has just begun. I am human, I am weak and fallen by nature.
Father, give me the strength to follow you. Forgive me when I stumble. I praise you and I bask in your presence.
**still working on the Christian fellowship thing though…. So many years being lonely that’s a habit that’s hard to break**
-May the peace of the LORD be with you
Ellen
The LORD is my shepherd,
I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You have anointed my head with oil;
My cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.
-Psalm 23
All Saints – CAM Volunteer Day Photos
March 14, 2011
Man Plans, God Laughs…Leave your Baggage at the Foot of the Cross! by Kabrena Rodda
January 22, 2011
The following was originally posted on Facebook. If you are not already, connect with All Saints on Facebook.
This past Sunday was my second time worshipping at Koinonia* at All Saints Anglican Church. It’s a long story but in the interest of saving space I will simply say that Alice Goodwin, a dear friend, knew I was looking for a new church home and told me about All Saints, so I decided to check it out. I’m glad I did. After an hour or so of deep, Spirit-led worship that day, Fr Chip announced people would be available after the service to pray for anyone desiring it. I thought about it and had almost decided to forego it. But then, on a whim, I decided to come forward anyway and take chance. What followed was an intensive prayer session that left me with the undeniable recognition that 1) I had found home and 2) unbeknownst to me before I arrived at All Saints that night, what I had thought was just me checking out one of many possible places of worship was really a divine appointment. So I decided to come back this week and after talking it over with Fr Chip I brought my electric fiddle so I could join in with the band. Before going into that experience, however, a bit of background is in order….
The prayer session last week stirred up some things I had kept deep inside for a long time (word to the wise: if you receive intercessory prayer be prepared for the Holy Spirit to rock your world!). When I arrived at All Saints yesterday I was trying to settle down and was also feeling a little disappointed in myself for taking so long to get up the gumption to try All Saints. I was sad because on the one hand I felt like I finally came home, that something deep inside has finally been set right, and that I’ve known the people I’ve met and spoken with so far at All Saints my whole life. On the other hand, when I arrived last week I did so with the knowledge that I will be transferring to a new job this coming July, in Washington, DC. I came here not expecting, nor wanting, to find home. I was content to just bide my time until the clock wound down. Yet here I am. I think that’s why I felt so unsettled after the prayer last week. How could I so completely, so suddenly, feel right at home after just one visit? It’s bittersweet. I know good opportunities await me in DC but I don’t know of another time in my life when things just clicked like this. I’ve felt welcomed in other churches before, but this was like hanging out in my jammies in front of the TV.
I’ve been seeking solace in the knowledge that God is God and I am not, and that surely if He was able to orchestrate everything else that led up to Sunday night, He must have a plan—a plan worthy of my trust since He has never let me down before. All that remains is simply for me to put my trust in him. I have been keeping the words of Jeremiah 29:11 close at hand to keep everything in perspective:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – (NIV)
So back to Sunday’s Koinonia….
Eventually the time came to start the service and Fr Chip quickly told me we were going to start with another song which I did not know, we had not rehearsed, and for which there was no music…something called “Something’s Going to Happen,” or something like that (a hazard of playing violin is knowing only some of the lyrics to songs we do). As it happened I was able to pick out a line to play that sounded OK, but I must admit that at this point all I can remember is that other song by Buffalo Springfield (and I will be seeking absolution from Fr Chip about this shortly, I promise):
“Something’s happening here; what it is ain’t exactly clear….”
Regardless of which song it was, it was fitting. Fr Chip started the service by saying many folks had told him they sensed something was about to happen at All Saints. The song, therefore, was an obvious choice. The best way I can describe the rest of the evening’s worship is “ playing in the Spirit.” There are times when I’m playing worship music where it feels like my soul is connected to the strings on my violin and the Holy Spirit just does something deep inside me as I play. I think the reason this type of playing affects me so deeply is because it requires me to let my guard down and stop hiding from God. Apparently it ministers to other people too, but that’s not what I notice. I just suddenly have tears welling up and the emotions are spilling out into the music.
So there I am, playing my heart out, literally, when Fr Chip shares a prophetic word about the room we were in being holy ground. I totally lost it. I lost it because I realized I didn’t want to leave that sacred space to go home, so I told God how I felt, honestly and fully. That was different behavior for me as normally I would just bury my feelings and suck it up, assuming God had more important things to do than to worry about my wants and needs.
This time, though, I told Him. And you know what? The Holy Spirit came and filled me up. And when it was time to go it was all OK! Several people came up to me to hug me and thank me for ministering to them with the music. I told them I was glad the music ministered to them but that it really was my privilege to get to play like that, that it has been quite some time since I got to worship so deeply…and that I felt I was the one being ministered to.
I’m looking forward to being received next week…and I think you all are right. Something IS about to happen. I thank God to be here, among all of you, to see it unfold. See ya Sunday!
*For anyone who has yet to check out Koinonia on Sunday evenings at 6 PM, I urge you to give it a try. You won’t be sorry. But hold onto your hats! You’re in for a wild ride.
God Working in My Life by Mary Marty
August 13, 2010
Dear Fr. Chip,
Just to let you and the intercessors know that every since a week ago Wednesday when you all prayed over me, the facial itching and hives stopped completely. Moreover, since praying regarding back problems, if I have any pain it is minimal. thank you all and praise be to Jesus Christ!
Mary
New Birth in the Lord by Mary Marty
February 26, 2010
God does work miracles in our lives in so many ways. I think just the fact that He chose us to be here as His living witnesses is a fundamental one. However, my story is directly about physical healing and, moreover, a true grounding of encompassing faith in God.
In early November 2009, I slipped on a throw rug and broke a bone in my right foot. Fortunately, I knew of an orthopedic office with a small emergency unit. After taking X-rays, the doctor confirmed the break and told me that it would be difficult to treat and slow to heal as the site received little blood supply. I was placed in a fiberglass cast and given an appointment to see my orthopedic surgeon in two weeks.
At that appointment, my doctor said he’d have to do surgery and place a screw into the bone as the bone was not healing. I had the surgery on December 2, 2009. From then on, it was wait and hope that new bone would fill in around the area where the screw was implanted. I was mostly homebound, lonely, and frightened.
At the next follow-up appointment with my doctor, he said I could put weight on the right foot while wearing an air cast. That was good, but he was cautious because only a little bone had begun to show up on the X-rays taken at that visit. I couldn’t drive much, but I managed to get to close places.
One Saturday I decided to write to Fr. Chip and see if he would accept me back at All Saints. He was more than welcoming. On that Sunday, Bishop Bena was there. It was a glorious service and a blessing to return to Holy Communion. After the service, Fr. Chip laid hands on me and prayed for healing of my foot. I appreciated that and hoped it might help.
After several weeks it was time to see the surgeon again for yet another follow-up on January 27, 2010. I knew folks at All Saints had been praying for me. The sense of God’s presence was strong within—something I’d never truly experienced for any length of time—and so I knew good news would come that day. The doctor came into the examination room and said that the bone had healed 90%—a miracle for that sort of surgery. I could tell he was amazed at what had happened; he even showed me the x- rays. Moreover, I could now wear both shoes!
All of this is God’s doing through prayer and faith in His mighty Word!
It is also a new birth for me in the Lord. I thank Him for his mighty deeds, His love, and His caring for me despite myself. It is good to come home to All Saints and be with such a marvelous group of people whose faith in God is so strong and sure. The words from a Psalm come to mind: “I will thank thee O God, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made!”
