Greetings from Rome!
I am here at Transform 2013, an outreach program of OM. At the airport while waiting for the bus to the conference, I stopped at a coffee shop for an after-lunch espresso, as is my habit. Next to me at the coffee bar was a friendly woman. She smiled and spoke to me in English. It turned out that she was also headed to Transform. We hit it off in an instant friendship. But Monica and I had no idea at the time just how compatible we were.
Transform in Rome is to prepare missionaries for short-term missions in the countries around the Mediterranean. “Where are you going after the conference?” Monica asked me. This would become one of the 2 most common questions to strike up conversation at the conference. The other being, “Where did you come from?” I told her that I’m from Texas, living in Milan, Italy, and going to Malta after the conference. Her smile widened and she said, “Me too!” Both our jaws dropped open. Right on cue, the bus arrived and took us to the conference. Monica and I rode together, each glad to have found a traveling companion.
When I arrived in Rome, I was already going on 2 nights in a row of only 4 hours sleep. Monday night (or technically, Tuesday morning) I awoke at 2AM with a migraine attack beginning. The enemy frequently tries to prevent me from going or from being effective on missions trips by attacking me with migraines. But the Lord said to get on my feet and fight. So I stood there in the dark room, rebuking the enemy silently so as not to awake my 3 roommates. The migraine immediately went away and I was able to get back to sleep, but had a 3rd night of only about 4 hours sleep. Something would have to break. The next night (yesterday morning) I woke up again at 2 and simply couldn’t get back to sleep. It wasn’t that my mind was busy, I just laid there feeling my breath going in and out, and not sleeping. About 11 that morning, I was considering going to the room to see if I could sleep through lunch.
But my morning prayer partner suggested that I pray with someone who knows about generational curses. She suggested this because I had opened up and told her about my concerns for my son, who had written on Facebook that he hadn’t been happy in a year, and had asked the question, “Why should I go on living?” I noted that it was about a year ago that his grandfather (my former father-in-law) had committed suicide. The person she led me to was Monica.
I told Monica about my son and father-in-law, and also that 4 months later, I also lost a close family friend to suicide. She said that there is a spirit of suicide and a spirit of death that are generational spirits. That means that they tend to cling to a person’s family, encouraging death among family members. I had already broken other such curses off my family, but not specifically suicide or death. I told her that in the last year that I lived with my husband, I suffered thoughts of suicide all day long, day-in and day-out. And that finally, when I left him, I was literally running for my life—not because of physical danger from him, but because of the danger that I might, in a moment of weakness, act upon those thoughts because of how intolerable life had become for me. One day I did come close, but instead called 911 and was referred to the County Mental Health Clinic, where I was given a prescription for an anti-depressant.
Monica took me to her room, laid hands on me and prayed for me, breaking the spirit of suicide and death. She prayed for the healing of my memories and other things that I don’t remember. What I do remember is that her hands smelled very nice and felt soothing on my skin. When I commented on the fragrance of her hands she showed me a little vial of Frankincense. It has a lovely smell! It’s really very soothing.
After Monica’s prayer, I felt my energy return. I did take a nap, but not until after lunch, and only for about 45 minutes. Last night I slept very well, getting about 8 hours—6 in a row!—thank You, Lord!
Today almost everyone has gone into the city of Rome on outreach, taking many paperback Gospels of John in Italian, 3000 dvd’s of the Jesus film to give away, and thousands of tracts to hand out. I decided to stay behind, knowing that without a nap, I could never last a whole day into the evening, walking around Rome. On Fridays I pray for Italy from 3-4 in the afternoon. So I went to the prayer room, with their big floor map of the Mediterranean countries. I knelt down on Italy and prayed and wept over it. Then I stretched out over Italy, my heart right over Tuscany. For a long time I had no words to pray, just mute longing for the salvation of the people of Italy, and my heart beating over Tuscany.
Then I lifted up my head and saw the words printed on the corner of the map: “Ask Me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession,” (Psalm 2:8). It was 3 years ago, just before I went to Transform 2010, that I received a prophecy, saying (in part): “You will not just receive the blessing, but the whole inheritance.” So I stood to my feet and began to ask for the nations as my inheritance, and to claim the whole inheritance. As brokenhearted as I had earlier felt for Italy, I began to feel confident that God will indeed bless and save the people of Italy—no matter what their background.
Then I remembered a prophecy I received a few days ago, but read this morning: “When your faith is in what you want Me to do for you instead just wanting Me, it is misplaced,” (emphasis mine). Yes, my faith is in God Almighty, and He alone is the hope for Italy. God, who helped me yesterday when I was in trouble, can help Italy, too! God is good!