Nomadic Kindred Hearts

Yesterday at the conference I met Rosy.  Right from the start she seemed to be the most interesting person in the room.  I met her just before the Ladies Coffee, which was a social time built into the conference.  I didn’t register for the Ladies Coffee right away just because the idea of a Ladies Coffee didn’t really appeal to me.  I don’t really fit in with most of the women there.  But the Holy Spirit had urged me to register for it at the last minute, so I did.  I asked Rosy if she was going to the Ladies Coffee, and she said that she was.  So we went off together, leaving her boyfriend, Bobby, to attend the next session without us.

Rosy is doing something that I had always dreamed of doing, but never had the freedom or the resources to do: she lives in her fully-equipped camper van and has been traveling around the country since she was laid off from her job.  That’s a courageous and daring thing to do, and I admire her a lot for doing it.  When I bought my camper van in 2011 (see my first book, Look, Listen, Love) I had thought of doing that, but in Europe.  My camper was stolen, which put an end to that dream for me.  Nevertheless, I still think about it sometimes when I’m traveling around in Europe.

Rosy also blogs.  So there we have a lot in common: writers, nomadic at heart, plus we’re both attending the Pre-Tribulation Rapture Conference, so we both keep our ears open for the trumpet’s sound.  I love all the new friends God has for me!  God is good!

The Pre-Tribulation Rapture

Greetings from Dallas!

I am here attending the Pre-Tribulation Rapture Conference.  The conference has only just started, but already God has been very merciful, helping me through what could have been a couple of bad logistical problems.

The first was the drive to the airport.  I left Asheville yesterday morning to drive my son home to Chapel Hill, and then turn back and on to the airport in Charlotte.  I had budgeted about seven hours, even though Google Maps had predicted that the total trip would take only a bit over five.  I had added an extra hour to my driving plan so that we could have lunch together at his local sushi palace.  Leaving him on his doorstep with a full stomach and sushi leftovers, I headed on toward Charlotte.  Google Maps either didn’t know about the construction on Highway 85 or that it was the tail end of Thanksgiving weekend and certainly both played a part in the drive time taking every bit of seven hours.  I didn’t really hit delays until about 35 miles outside of Charlotte, but I was really glad that I had decided to head straight to the airport and not take my time.  In the long term parking lot, I hailed a passing bus that had just gone by the shelter before I could get there.  The driver graciously stopped for me even though she was not at an official stop when she did it.  On entering the airport, I was especially glad that I had my boarding pass with me and no luggage to check.  The flight was delayed by nearly half an hour, but that’s not a problem when you have no connection to make.  It gave me an opportunity to breathe and even get a light dinner before boarding.

In order to avoid the expense of renting a car that I would really only need twice a day, I had selected an airport hotel near the conference site, which was another airport hotel.  My plan was to take the shuttle to the airport and then catch the other hotel’s shuttle.  My hotel’s shuttle departs for the airport every hour on the hour starting at six AM.  As I thought about this plan, the enormous hassle and potential of hours lost waiting for one shuttle or the other began to worry me.   Rather than worry, I simply prayed instead.  After a good night’s sleep, I had thought to catch the six AM shuttle to the airport and arrive finally at the other hotel in time for the conference start at eight.  Good plan, but I missed the six AM shuttle.  I decided that it would be OK if I were a bit late for the conference.  And who knows?  I might arrive on time for the conference anyway.  So I got a quick breakfast and signed up for the seven AM shuttle.  The shuttle driver was there, and he asked me what terminal I was going to.  I told him about my crazy shuttle plan.  He wanted to know where the other hotel was, and I told him.  He said that since he had only two stops to make this morning, he would take me to the other hotel.  In fact, he said that he’ll be working all week, and that he would take me every day, assuming that he doesn’t have a lot of stops to make.  That is an answer to prayer, and one I would never have thought to hope for!

So once again, I’m feeling like God’s favorite kid.  God is good!

Dream Analysis

CN Tower, Toronto

My cousin, Betsey, does life coaching, and she offered to analyze a dream for me.  The one I picked out was a doozy:

We lived at the top of something like the CN Tower in Toronto (or the Space Needle in Seattle, but I don’t know the city).  Because we lived there, we didn’t have to wait in line for the public elevators.  At some point my lifelong friend, Maggie, came to visit.  She brought me something, but I don’t remember what it was.

Then I went out and forgot my key, so I had to buy a ticket for the elevator like everyone else.  My Companion (I don’t remember who it was) told me that I should explain that I live there, so I did.  The Ticket Lady was in her 60’s and sort of gruff.  She said that I had to buy a ticket and use a public elevator, but she would go up with me, and refund my money when she saw that I really do live there.  The tickets cost $7.50 each, and they were gray and long (about 6-7 inches) and a little thinner than tickertape.

The Ticket Lady told us to go ahead and get in line.  She busied herself with closing up her ticket booth.  There were 5 ticket booths, all of them manned and lines at each.  But the lines moved pretty fast.  My Companion and I had gone to the booth at the far left.

We went through an opening in the wall directly behind us and into the waiting area.  The line for the elevators was in a wading pool, the water was nicely warm and clean, and amazingly less crowded than the ticket lines.  People really enjoyed the pool as they waited for the elevator.  There were 3 elevators, but they were in a straight line, not curved as you would expect around the tower.  The middle elevator had an enclosed area that hid the people waiting from view.  It was common knowledge that the enclosed area was a Jewish bathhouse.  So I stood in line for the elevator on my right because I’m not Jewish.

The “wading area” for all 3 elevators was between 2 playgrounds for a really tough inner-city elementary school, and we were separated from the playgrounds by cage-like wire.  As my Companion and I waited and enjoyed the water, I looked at the kids on the playground.  One boy on a swing turned and made eye contact with me.  And he gave me the most malevolent look I’ve ever gotten—and he was young, about 6-7 years old!  That look made me shiver.

Then it was our turn to get onto the elevator, and the Ticket Lady was in the pool area, but she didn’t make it onto our elevator.  The elevator was wedge-shaped (like a pie, with one curved side) and it was like an amusement park ride.  There were wire seats that looked like lawn chairs and we were supposed to seatbelt ourselves into the seats.  But the seats weren’t bolted down.  I pulled mine (on the curvy side at a corner) into alignment with the other seats before I sat and buckled up.  The ride to the top was quick, and at the top we met the Ticket Lady.  We knocked at the door and Mom let me in.  The Ticket Lady was gone, but I was sure that she had gone down to get our refund.  Mom scolded me for leaving without my key, and said, “Those bathhouse Jews are homosexuals.”  I said, “All of them?” and she nodded emphatically, “ALL of them!”

I hadn’t felt threatened by the Jews (gay or not, though I doubted that they really were gay), but the kid on the playground had really scared me.  This dream was populated by lots of people I knew, both in our apartment and down in the wading pool.  But the only people I can recall are Mom, Fleur, and my youngest son, Kevin.

The way Betsey analyzed my dream was to actually show me how to analyze the dream myself.  Together we picked out the things that seem to be important symbols and themes: the tower, the elevators, Maggie, whatever Maggie brought me, the key, the tickets, my companion, the ticket lady, the refund, the lines, the ticket booths, the opening in the wall, the waiting area/wading pool, the Jewish bathhouse, the playgrounds, the cage-like wire, the boy on the swing, the wire seats, Mom, the Jews, and Kevin.

Then we went through, item-by-item (or person-by-person) and Betsey instructed me to “be” the item or person.  And she asked me these questions:

1. Name three adjectives to describe yourself (without thinking too much).
2. (Item/Person), what is your purpose in this dream?
3. (Item/Person), what are you trying to tell/show Alisa?
4. (Item/Person), do you have something to say to Alisa?

 

I took notes, but not on the things that didn’t seem important, so here are some of my notes:

• Tower – tall, see everything, over everything; “Come up here!”
• Elevators – open, waiting, enclosing; “Let’s go up!”
• Maggie – “There are gifts all around if you open your eyes.”
• Whatever Maggie brought me – “You have gifts that you have not opened.”
• The key – gold, shiny, important; “Open it up!”
• Tickets – “I am a substitute key.”
• My Companion – “I’m here to remind you!”
• Ticket Lady – “I have tickets for you.”
• Refund – “Things lost can be restored.”
• The lines – I don’t think the lines were significant.  I live in a big city (Milan), so lines and crowds are an everyday thing.
• Ticket booths – “I have tickets for you.”
• The opening in the wall – “I’ll take you to a different reality.”
• Waiting area/wading pool – “Take a moment to relax/This is a safe place to relax.”
• Jewish bathhouse – Chosen, exclusive “You’re not one of us.”
• Playgrounds – “If you forget your key, you’ll be in danger.”
• The cage-like wire – thick, impenetrable, transparent
• The boy on the swing – “I’m gonna get you!”
• The wire seats – Cold, uncomfortable, unsteady
• Mom – Home, safety, love; here to reassure; “Everything is going to be OK.”
• The Jews – Chosen, rigid, conservative; “You’re not one of us.”
• My son, Kevin – Young, irresponsible, unpredictable; here as a symbol; “You grew out of this phase, so will I!”

Betsey then gave me her perspective:

You live at a higher level than others, always moving up.  Maggie reminds you of gifts that you haven’t opened.  Gifts may be related to keys and tickets.  Your companion is a guide, so is the Ticket Lady.  Lost things can be restored.  There is a place that you can get to with substitute keys.  There is an opening from one reality to another, from busy to tranquil.  There is an unwelcoming, exclusive place.  The playground area is scary and menacing.  Mom is reassuring and reassuringly normal.

Then I told Betsey about my interpretation:

In a nutshell, this is a Rapture dream.  The tower-top apartment is the heavenly destination.  The tower says “Come up here!” just like in Revelation 4:1.  The elevators are a conveyance to take me higher (they never went down!).  The unopened gift is my belief that we don’t use the gifts God has given us to the extent that we ought to (like the first century Christians).  Maggie and my Companion both are the Helper, the Holy Spirit (perhaps the Ticket Lady was also the Holy Spirit).  The refund is the restoration of things to God’s original design.  The playground is the world left behind after the Rapture.  Mom’s warning about the bathhouse Jews was weird and completely in character, therefore reassuringly normal.

The Rapture has been on my mind for about a year now.  I believe that it’s going to be soon.  Don’t get left in the playground!  Come up here!  God is good!

Seattle’s Space Needle

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem

Yesterday I went to Pastor Ivan’s church in the kindergarten.  Some of the newer team members were surprised and a bit dismayed to hear that I was going to a different church than the team.  But the head of OCE (Operation Capitals of Europe – oceprayer.com) was not dismayed.  I have joined the team often enough that he knows I don’t go off on my own without a very good reason.  I had already told him about the visit Wednesday to Pastor Ivan’s church and praying for the pastor, so I think he wasn’t surprised to hear that I wanted to return to encourage the pastor some more.

It encouraged Pastor Ivan very much to see me there, and he asked me to speak briefly to the church about my ministry.  One surprise was the musical talent in that little church.  I don’t often hear music that good in much bigger churches.  I suggested to Zuzana that they should cut a CD.  Books and CD’s make good fundraisers, and I believe that this little church is going to grow.  They will need to be ready for growth.

Zuzana told me that my visit encouraged the whole church.  Afterwards we caught up with the rest of the team for lunch and then we went to the castle.  At the castle we broke up into prayer teams for various concerns: business, families & children, art & culture, Israel, and an intercessory team that remained in the castle and prayed for all the prayer teams.

I chose Israel, so we took a walk to the site of the biggest synagogue in Bratislava.  It had been right beside the largest cathedral—St. Marten’s also known as the Dome of St. Marten.  There was only one other synagogue right beside a cathedral in all of Europe, the one by Notre Dame.  The Communists tore down the synagogue to build a bridge, but also to send a message about religion.

It was a very good time of prayer, and the anointing was so strong that at one point a blind man’s guide dog led him right into the middle of our prayer circle.  At another point a man with a German Shepherd walked past us.  The dog barked and barked, but interestingly, he was muzzled in a wire muzzle.  Since one of the Slovaks was praying at the time, I didn’t want to interrupt to point this out, but I think it is significant—prophetically showing that the Nazi spirit would never again threaten the Slovakian Jews.

One woman prophesied over me, saying that I have been called to be a blessing to the Slovakian believers, and to the unbelievers as well.  I confirmed that my calling is to support the Body of Christ here in Slovakia and throughout Europe, and through them to reach the lost.  So it was very cool to be confirmed by this prophetic word.  And I have a Slovakian word for how it made me feel:  FEE-ha!  I don’t know how it’s spelled, but that’s it phonetically.  It means WOW!  It’s my new favorite foreign word.

Afterward we joined the team of intercessors that had prayed for all the teams.  They went to Slavin, the World War II monument and cemetery, atop the other hill in Bratislava.  There we found 5 young skaters (for those over 30, that’s skateboarders).  One woman (not one of our group) had just finished hollering at the skaters, telling them that it was disrespectful to be skating in a cemetery.  Instead of leaving, they simply sat and waited for her to leave, and that is how we found them.

Upon arriving there, I felt an almost overwhelming desire to dance.  Someone pointed out the woman and said that dancing in a cemetery would probably offend her, too.  But, since others also felt moved to dance, we decided that the thing to do was to dance in a quiet and subdued way.  As we worshiped and prayed, we danced mostly with our hands and swaying, but the desire to dance became stronger and stronger for all of us, until it broke out in a joyous dance.  I think it is perfectly acceptable to dance in a Nazi cemetery.  Dance is a sign of victory, and the Kingdom of God is indeed victorious over the Nazi spirit.  Hallelujah!

When we finished, we turned our attention to the skaters, who had remained just a few feet from our group.  They had seen and heard all of our worship and prayers.  One man, who I call Dancing Joe, approached them and began to tell them about Jesus.  One woman told me that he has such a funny, friendly style that it completely disarms people, and they love to listen to Dancing Joe.  The skaters laughed together with him, and although they just shrugged when he asked if he could pray for them, DJ took their shrugs to mean OK, so he prayed for them.  And we left with them all smiling and waving goodbye to us.  The crabby woman had left, so they began to skate again.

One member of the team had brought a shofar with him, and he was stopped by an American Jew, who asked what our group was doing.  So he told the man about finding his Messiah, Yeshua (he’s a Messianic Jew).

It was a lovely day!  I feel such hope for Slovakia.  God is good!

Blessed in Budapest

Yesterday was our second and last day in Budapest.  In the morning we met in the Jewish Ghetto and did a prayer walk with Esther from Jews for Jesus.  Although the Jews of Budapest were only confined to the ghetto for a month, it was such a difficult time, being winter, that there was no heat and little or nothing to eat.  Many people died during that month, and Esther’s grandmother was one of them.

But then she took us to the Carl Lutz memorial.  Carl Lutz was a Swiss man who saved thousands of Jewish children during the war, and Esther’s mother was of them.  It makes the Holocaust so much more tragic and real when you meet someone so personally impacted by the war.

Carl Lutz memorial

After lunch we walked out to the middle of the Crown Bridge.  Just last year they had added a couple of obelisks and crown statues to the bridge.  Obelisks are ancient Egyptian symbols, which have to do with the worship of the sun.  Nevertheless, obelisks are found in many churches, especially in Europe.  Obelisks are also a common architectural theme in Freemasonry.  The Masons claim to be a Christian organization and point to their good work in building the Shriners Childrens Hospitals, and riding around in funny little cars in parades wearing fezes, but even a casual glance at the rites reveals the satanic roots of Freemasonry.  The Hungarian crown has a crooked cross on top, which I think is revealing, too.  So we prayed there in the middle of the bridge, looking across the Danube at the Parliament building that we had visited the day before.

Crown statue on the Crown Bridge

One more destination was the castle and church atop the highest hill in Budapest.  From that vantage point high on the ramparts, we prayed for Budapest and proclaimed her future and her people for Jesus.  Those of us from other countries then prayed for the Hungarians who had come to pray with us, blessings them.

Castle ramparts high above the city of Budapest

Finally we returned to the Scottish Mission Church to worship God and have a final evening of prayer together.  It was a really sweet time together, and when the Hungarians surrounded us to pray for us, the Holy Spirit fell upon all of us and we laughed in the sweet joy of the Lord.  So we ended our time together worshiping, praying, blessing, and laughing.  It was wonderful!  God is good!

And today was a travel day back to Bratislava followed by relaxing, each in their own way (taking a run, shopping, sleeping, writing a blog post—guess who!).

Restroom sign at the Scottish Mission Church

Building a New Foundation

Greetings from Budapest!

We arrived yesterday just after noon by train from Bratislava.  The difference in atmosphere between these 2 cities is like night and day.  Bratislava’s sweetness is nowhere to be found in Budapest, which is a hardened city.  One teammate said that she felt a Nazi-like spirit here.  This was confirmed when the local pastor told us that Hungary had made laws against the Jews 3 times.

Nevertheless there is a thriving Jewish community, which we will be visiting today.  I had been to the Jewish Cultural Center in Budapest 2 years ago during my Faith Trip (see my book, Look, Listen, Love).  Today we are going to the Jewish Museum, which is near the JCC.  Since Budapest was the starting point for my Faith Trip 2 years ago, all this feels very much like a reunion—and even more so because it was also here in Budapest that I met the head of Operation Capitals of Europe (oceprayer.com), and 2 of our teammates.  I met 2 other teammates in Kalisz, Poland at the Feast of Tabernacles.  None of these 4 had ever come on another prayer trip.  All of this helps lighten the heavy Budapest spirit, and perhaps that was what God had in mind.

Scottish Mission Church in Budapest

Yesterday afternoon after worshiping and praying together, we had an appointment in the Parliament building with an MP.  He talked to us about some of the history of Hungary, and answered our questions.  Then we had a time of prayer with him and for him.  Afterwards he showed us around the building, and into one of the parliamentary chambers.  We only had a brief time there, so instead of prayers, we made brief declarations about godly decision-making in that place.

The Parliament building is enormous because when it was built Hungary was much larger.  The MP told us that Hungary had once had 66 counties, and now it only has 16.  Slovakia was once part of Hungary.  The symbol for Hungary once was a 2-headed eagle, which speaks of division—and indeed, division came.

Hungarian Crown in Parliament

Budapest is currently building a new subway line near the Parliament building.  Because of the work underground, the streets all around the Parliament building are dug up, exposing as it were the building’s foundation.  Interesting that we should visit it just at the time that its foundation is exposed.  So we made declarations and proclamations that all evil laws and corruption be pulled-up by the roots and replaced by seeds of righteousness.

We heard one of the local believers tell about a prayer initiative that God had given him called Seven Towers.  They have set 7 places, 1 in each district of Budapest, as prayer towers.  Each week there is a 24 hour prayer vigil in one of the towers.  We recognized this as an important work in restoring Budapest to the Kingdom of God.

Weeping Willow Memorial to Holocaust Victims

So the Hungarian government will be rebuilt on a foundation of righteousness and restored to the Kingdom of God.  And we will see the oppressive spirits and Nazi-like influence scatter and vanish as Jesus takes His rightful throne as Lord and King of Hungary here in Budapest.  God is good!

Hanukkah Heaven or Hell

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam, asher kiddeshanu b’mitzvotav, vitzivanu, lehadlik ner shel Hanukkah.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam, she-asah nissim la-avotaynu bayamim ha-hem bazman hazeh.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Hanukkah.

Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who wrought miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season.

On Wednesday, right in the middle of the eight days of Hanukkah, the retirement home (where I live with Mom) had a traditional Hanukkah feast and celebration during the supper hour.  The two blessings above were recited (in both Hebrew and English) as the candles were lit.  It was beautiful, and I was grateful to have been part of the celebration.  The Jewish people here have been very kind about all the Christmas decorations and music—much of which is of a religious nature.  Nan told me: “I’m surprised that you would want to be here for this,” because she knows I’m a Christian missionary, and she also knows that I usually skip the evening meal.  “Well,” I replied, “Hanukkah is the celebration of a miracle.  I believe that we should always celebrate miracles!”  She smiled her agreement.  Nan and some of the other Jewish ladies had shared their recipes with the chef.  The resulting meal was delicious, though he’d had to prepare kugel instead of latkes because he doesn’t have a frying pan.

However this happy day didn’t have a happy start.  Mom and I returned from shopping to find a fire truck, an ambulance, two police cars, and a police department truck marked “Forensic Investigation” in the driveway.  Ambulances are not an uncommon sight here, nor are fire trucks, but the police vehicles are.  When we asked what the police vehicles were about, Jan, a kitchen worker told us: “One of the residents, a young woman wheelchair-bound by MS, had died in the night of an overdose.  They suspect suicide.”  We hadn’t known her, but we were saddened all the same.  She was young (only 42) and she had a fourteen year old daughter.

MS is a terrible, cruel disease that robs the body of strength and paralyzes, leaving the mind intact, eventually killing the person.  One person here actually applauded her for taking her life, and said that when her end is near, she intends to do the same.

I wrestled with the question: if it is kind to put a suffering animal down, why not a suffering human?  When I took this question to God, however, I felt a holy anger rising up within my spirit.  And with it the thought: God is the Author of Life, so killing (even yourself) puts you in league with the author of death—the devil, himself.  And on further thought, I realized that suicide is the ultimate expression of faithlessness, cowardice, and unbelief.

This was a hard realization for me, having lost two people I love to suicide this year: my ex-father-in-law and a dear lifelong family friend.

The last two years of my marriage I suffered severe depression.  The worst symptom—far worse than only sleeping one hour a night—was constant thoughts of suicide.  From the moment I woke until I finally fell asleep, I was bombarded with suicidal thoughts.  I would be in the bathroom and wonder how much of various medications it would take to overdose.  Or I would be in the kitchen and linger over the choice of knives for chopping onions, thinking about which would be the best for cutting my throat.  Or I would look out the window at the barn and wonder if there was a rope I could hang myself with—or a hose I could duct-tape to the muffler and gas myself with.

On and on and on, all day these thoughts tormented me.  I started reading books about positive thinking, but they didn’t help.  My prayers were stillborn, having died before they even started the long journey from my brain to my mouth.  So I mutely searched for God, finding only more misery.  The most innocent and normal things would start the flow of tears: a bird flying by the window or a pretty sunset.  I read and wrote obsessively just to keep the bad thoughts at bay, but they came anyway.  Our landlady’s dog became my dearest companion.  He would sit with me for hours.  I think he sensed the trouble in my spirit.

Our apartment was over the garage, and one day I went down to the garage and put my key in the ignition of our car.  I was going to kill myself and my husband, too (he was busy working on the computer in the room above me).  But instead of turning the key, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.  I told the operator what I was about to do.  He said to go to the County Mental Health Office immediately, and said that they would be waiting for me.  I did, and the doctor there gave me a prescription for Prozac.

When the Prozac finally kicked in, it helped a lot.  I was still in a lot of pain, but instead of raw pain, it was manageable.  The Prozac gave me back a degree of perspective, which helped me to find the strength to leave my abusive marriage.

These memories are so painful that it has taken me nearly a week to write about all this.  In the meantime there was the shooting of twenty school children in Connecticut.  The rampage ended as many of these do, with the suicide of the shooter—proving the diabolical link with suicide.  This was difficult to write, but now that I’ve done it I feel better.  Although suicide would have instantly ended my misery, it would have just started the misery for all the people who love me.  In the midst of depression it’s difficult to see that people actually love you.

To anyone feeling depressed and/or suicidal I say: be strong and courageous.  Get help.  And no matter how bad today is, tomorrow will be better.  Hang on!  God is good!