the gift of a peace treaty

Eight years ago I was joyfully gliding down a hill in Massachusetts. I’d wrapped up another long day at my carrel in the basement of my seminary’s library and I was talking to God about what I would do after finishing seminary the following May. Then I heard Him say, “another Master’s degree.” I politely suggested God think of other options. He seemed determined. I asked, “In what?” He said, “Counseling.” I laughed. There beneath a lampost’s rays on light snow, I laughed out loud. I listed a couple other subjects. God gave His list, which wasn’t a list at all, only “Counseling.” “Okay,” I responded, “I’m not going to tell anyone about that, confirm it while I am in Turkey this summer.” True to Who He is, He did. I spent seven weeks in Turkey that summer, with about a dozen people, only two of whom I knew previously.

Day after day, different people would come up to me and ask me questions about psychology or an interpersonal dilemma. When there were disagreements on the team, I found myself tugged into them with the simple solicitation, “Could you help us?” In these interactions I also heard, “Oh, ask Dawn about that, she’s studying counseling” or “Talk to Dawn, she does mediation.”  I found myself squinting back, “I’m not studying counseling. Why did you think that?” The response was classically, “Oh, I don’t know why I thought that. I guess because your obviously good at it.” I was a bit annoyed at God for this persistent understanding, cloaked as misunderstanding. By the end of the trip I’d succumbed: I told God I’d do a Master’s degree in Counseling, even though I didn’t know why I was doing it. In May of 2005 I graduated from Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary with a Master’s in Religion and a Master’s in Counseling.

These days I know my innate design, topped with acquired skills, is, in part, to counsel leaders. Now it makes sense why, even in university, I found myself walking into heated arguments and then quickly recruited to mediate conversations. I was learning how to be a peacemaker. I was learning the power of reconciliation, the “repairing of the breach” Isaiah writes about in chapter 58:12. As I look forward in time to my journey back to the Middle East, and specifically to Iraq, I am really thankful God told me to get that degree. He’s so smart.

Well, fittingly, I was given a postcard this week of one of the world’s first peace treaties. A friend of mine recently returned from Iraq, Turkey, and Israel. While in Turkey she visited the Istanbul Archaeological Museum. Ironically, I also visited the museum during my summer in Turkey in 2003. She brought back a postcard for me. The image is of the Kadesh Treaty from BC 1269. She said, “This is for you because you are a peacemaker.”

I think my eyes must have widened. Sometimes the thought of being a peacemaker in the Middle East is so immense, it’s like someone asking you to walk their dogs and then showing up at your house with 17 rottweilers. It’s a bit more than one might think feasible. It sometimes feels daunting, but the truth is, in all of this, I know quite clearly the vision God has put inside me; and in the words of Joan of Arc, “I am not afraid… I was born to do this.”

My favorite peacemaker, Jesus, once said, “Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called sons of God.” (Matthew 5)

Yes. I believe there’s a new unit of God’s dream team: radical peacemakers who will confidently go into any place, knowing the answers to the unrest, war, hatred, and fear are inside them. As Daniel served Nebuchadnezzar with some of the results being peace, these people will serve nations in such a HOPEFUL manner, peace will be the natural end. These leaders will be called sons and daughters of God because they illuminate the same restorative heart He has.

It will be beautiful, as nations light up with love – knowing who they are and who He designed them to be.

They will come into contact with the One who is Peace, the universe’s ultimate peace treaty.

“For he himself is our peace, who has made the two one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility”

(Ephesians 2:14)

I’m not only sharing this story to speak of peace, though I love it. I’m sharing this story to draw attention to the profound reality that God is preparing YOU for a specific purpose – maybe you are already in it, but it is growing; maybe you have no idea what it is, but your heart is magnetized to certain topics; and maybe you know what it is, but it seems far away. Take heart. You have a niche in the universe no one else can fill. God has a plan and a purpose for your life; and it’s infinitely more wonderful than anything you’ve imagined. It’s fun. It’s life-giving. It’s powerful.

Repeat after me, and the book “Dream Culture”:

God is good ALL the time. I have a purpose. Nothing is impossible. I am responsible for me. Greatness comes through serving.

(Dream Culture, p72)

Thanks for being YOU.

watching the moonrise

” from Issachar, men who understood the times

and knew what Israel should do


(1 Chronicles 12:32)

On July 1, 2011 I signed a lease for my new apartment. Clause 21 on the lease was,

“Timing. Timing is of the essence in this agreement.”

I laughed at the sudden entrance of a Zen poet into the otherwise very business-like form. I asked the landlord what it meant. She chuckled and admitted she didn’t know. I suggested they were emphasizing all of the previous references to time they had given (ie. 30 days notice before moving, the pool is open 8am-10pm etc). Still, the phrase stuck with me. I felt God elbow me when I thought about it. I pondered how much TIMING is also of the essence in my relationship with Him. I thought about the many things I am waiting on: promises to be fulfilled, dreams to materialize. I laughed as I reminded myself, with a wince, God has my best in mind and often timing is, not everything, but certainly A LOT. I am glad God sticks to His guns when I get impatient and stomp my feet. I am also thankful He is trustworthy and the best person to be dealing with in all matters. I am glad He’s the Lord of my land, the one who gave me the laundry key and also the keys to my front door. HE GAVE ME KEYS. He gives me access! His sense of timing tills the garden of my life. Tick-tock. <God, (tick) I trust (tock) your (tick) timing. (tock).>   

Baghdad, THERE I come!!! (hee hee hee!)

Sometimes I feel I’ve been pregnant for 15 years. Other times I am sure of it.

The child is a vision, a passion, a calling. The vision is for the Middle East: to thrive, to be at peace, to be madly in love with the Savior.

Much of that vision centers on Iraq.

In 2001 I had a dream I was in one of Saddam Hussein’s former palaces in Iraq. I was leading a secret church meeting. I knew Saddam’s regime had fallen and he was dead. I knew it was a prophetic picture of a scene which would be fulfilled.

In 2003 Saddam’s regime fell. In 2006 he was killed. In 2008 I was told about a man named Canon Andrew White who was leading church meetings in one of Saddam’s former palaces, a mutual friend told him about me. We began emailing. On March 23, 2011 Andrew was in Redding and we had dinner. He invited me to work with him in Baghdad.

In 2012 I plan to semi-move to Baghdad to be part of rebuilding and transforming the nation.

For preparation and vision-casting, I’m going to visit Baghdad this November. I’ll spend 2 weeks in England and visit FRRME’s home office; then 2 weeks in Baghdad where I will get to know the land, the people at St George’s Church, the folks at FRRME’s medical clinic, the Tigris River. I will also deliver paintings to high-profile leaders in Iraq. 

To say I am excited would be to say the sun is handy or shoes are helpful for hiking; it is decidedly an understatement. Setting my feet upon Iraq is a moment I’ve burned for, lived for, prayed for with a zeal and a compassion that still electrifies my heart and beckons my soul. Iraq and I are a match made in heaven.

For my trip this fall I need $4,000.

If you’d like to contribute toward transforming this nation, do so here:                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

THANK YOU! / ! شكر

“I ♥ Baghdad” shirts! ~~~ Help me get to Baghdad! ~~~

“The person with the most hope

has the most influence.”

– unknown

Well folks, I am selling

“I ♥ Baghdad” t-shirts!

Each shirt is $20, but if you buy one by Wednesday, June 1 you get 10% off by using this coupon code: ISAIAH668

You can also save money per shirt by buying TEN SHIRTS for $180, which saves $2 per shirt. So, if you have a group of friends, a class, a church, a prayer group, a book club, etc who want to support the HOPE Revolution for Iraq, it’s a beautiful opportunity to do so!

I’m planning to visit Baghdad this October in preparation for semi-moving there some time in 2012. These shirts are raising money for that trip. I want to be part of rebuilding the nation and filling Iraq with OUTRAGEOUS HOPE. Things are not what they seem. Beneath the ground is a well of hope churning and stirring to explode across the land. I am drawing together a momentum of people who will stand with me and with heaven and declare, “I LOVE BAGHDAD WITH OUTRAGEOUS HOPE.” Take your heart off the “news”, the dread, the negative expectations, and dare to believe for Iraq’s flourishing. There’s nothing special or helpful or loving about believing for a negative outcome, THE PERSON WITH THE MOST HOPE HAS THE MOST INFLUENCE. If we are going to transform the world, we’ve got to stop looking at the physical and obvious, and tap into heaven’s plans for nations. God LOVES the nations. And through Him we have the ability to BRING HEAVEN TO EARTH, like Jesus prayed in the Lord’s prayer, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN.”

Also, I need your help selling these shirts. Would you help publicize these shirts and the HOPE movement for Iraq by sharing the link below via email, facebook, twitter, blogs, personal websites, word of mouth, etc? THANK YOU!



Micah 5 thoughts on the MIDDLE EAST

In the midst of the hubbub about Israel and Palestine, there is a melody – a melody of hope, peace, and purpose. Bethlehem was called by name as a city of promise in Micah 5. Bethlehem is now in the Palestinian Territories, a place I love wholeheartedly – a people beautiful and important. In Isaiah 9 it says the Lord’s government will be ever-increasing. I believe there is a plan for peace in the Middle East. In heaven in a file cabinet, there is a plan. And it is so full of love it would dumbfound even the most compassionate human being. Two years ago I was thinking about all this me-lee, this confusion and unrest. I was living in Bethlehem, surrounded by a thirty-foot concrete wall and checkpoints. And I was declaring Bethlehem’s true identity to be re-established. From those thoughts came the following song, sung on a balcony in the Bethlehem area. He WILL be their peace.

Shepherds’ Fields, Bethlehem: The fields where the keepers got kept

I wrote this essay on a “familiar location” for my writing class. How ironic it is that it was shepherds who saw the angels over Bethlehem, it was the watchers, the stewards of life who suddenly were invited to be kept safe eternally – by knowing Jesus. < What a pivot! GOD! I love you! I want to know you through and through! I want to be perfectly attended to by You, and perfectly attending to others through You. A Shepherded Shepherd. A Loved Lover.>


The dust is a familiar friend: a hugger, a listener, an assurance of life’s forward movement. I never had a friendship with dust until I moved to Israel where the forecast was often “sand.” The sand and dust blew in from the desert via the hamsin (fifty) winds. In time its familiarity, and the stories from history it carried, brought me comfort and camaraderie. This is part of the reason I cherished Shepherds’ Fields just outside Bethlehem.

Shepherds Fields is the historic location of the place where the shepherds at the time of Jesus’ birth saw the angels in the sky proclaiming his arrival. There are two chapels on site, but the main view, the encompassing sea of possibility, is the expanse of fields. There on the rim of the property, I spent many hours, often lying on my back drinking the same sky those famous shepherds drank.

Limestone rock chunks play untrained chiropractor to my resting back. Olive trees stand in a watchful semi-circle, surgeons leaning over my body on heaven’s operating table. Their leaves are fascinating: a grandfatherly grey-green, at their most flourishing they look surprisingly tired. Similarly, the trunk itself, wooden dreadlocks bound by roots into the soil, looks ancient. The intentionality an elderly man uses tying his shoes, must be the focus the tree used to weave his tree bark together. The bark is rich. It’s the shade of a medium roast of coffee beans from Antigua, Guatemala (believe me; I used to work in a very coffee connoisseur’s café of sorts). The trees are so beautiful I suspect a mythical young prince might stride into the field and fall madly in love with one of them. I feel the earth become foggy as I take in one single tree.

The birds witness my adoration. I wonder if they are jealous or simply happy someone else has seen the trees’ hearts of hope. The birds slide by on an invisible track in the sky – there must be a sky train depot not far from my attentive head: every twenty minutes or so a similar cluster choo-choos past me. I can’t tell if they are the very same birds or not. They aren’t wearing clothes or hats or anything. When I look to trail the birds, I notice the low rock wall to my left. It’s made of Cenomanian Limestone like most of the walls in Israel – it is light chalky beige, the color of the front of my calves after some time in the sun (well except during my three year stint in Israel when cultural protocol kept me very covered. Then my legs were much more like the pale wooden rolling pin my mom had when I was a kid.)

I cherished that place, that nook in heaven. I would never close its shutters, even when my eyes closed; my spirit seemed fully aware that I was the little girl on her Papa’s lap, and His lap was Shepherds’ Fields. That little girl was a sheep being watched by night while also a shepherd instructed by angels.  Shepherd and sheep, watcher and watched. This is what happened that fateful night, those trained to look out for their flocks were yanked from provider to provided for. They could keep the sheep alive to the best of their ability, and their Ultimate Shepherd was introducing a way to keep them alive as well – a son who was salvation.

Shepherds' Fields outside of Bethlehem

travel trailer – a short clip from my book

It has been a while since I posted an excerpt from my book because I haven’t worked on it since school began in September. I am now hopping back on track  – with 100 pages done, I probably have 200 more to go. Hopefully, it will be published by the year’s end. Of course, as I am learning, it is a book never before written so, I’m not sure how long it will be nor how long it will take to complete the first draft etc. We shall see. The Holy Spirit is my personal assistant and He is full of fire so, I’ve got that in my favor. hahahaha.

I was talking to a friend this week about the fact that many people don’t like travelling because they don’t know how to travel – that is to say, they don’t know how to adapt to new places, people, food, and culture easily and this stunts their ability to travel well. Yet, as people are awakened for God’s love for the nations, they will become more malleable to the twists and turns of travel. This is one more part of loving the nations into their greatness. In our conversation I reminisced about the 7 week backpacking trip I did after university.

Consider this a 5 minute trailer to the film that is my book. May it inspire you with Daddy’s love for the nations!


Shortly after graduation I flew to Israel. A friend and I planned to backpack Europe for seven weeks. She was studying in Jerusalem, so I would meet her there and spend a week in Israel, then fly to Greece. Ironically, though I knew I was called to the Middle East, I never really considered Israel. Curiously, while I was there, all access to the West Bank/Palestinian Territories was sealed due to escalating conflict between Palestinians and Jews. Thus, I never set foot in Bethlehem or Jericho. I was scarcely around Arabs. Most of what I saw of Israel was the tourist sites, and the Jewish areas. I left having no sense for the Arab story in Israel. And therefore, I thought I wasn’t called to Israel.

After Israel we flew to Greece and then took a ferry to Italy. From there the Eurail trains carried us to Austria, Switzerland, Germany, Spain, France, the Netherlands, and Belgium. From Belgium, a ferry carried us to the white cliffs of Dover in England. We rented a car in London, and went on a weeklong road trip through Scotland. Once back in London, we spent a few days in the city and then whisked ourselves onto a plane and headed back to precious San Francisco, California.

As I walked the long white, sterile hallways of the San Francisco airport, laden with my huge purple backpacking backpack on my back and my golden Jansport backpack on my front, I could feel my life glowing. I did it. Thirteen countries and seven weeks later, I survived and flourished through changing languages, currencies, transportation systems, foods, and cultures. My thirsty eyes were quenched, at least, for a time. I had seen so much – not only in other people, but in myself. I carried about fifty pounds on my back through the hills of snowy Interlaken, Switzerland; the winding streets of Florence, Italy; the refined propriety of the French Riviera; and the tricky hostels of Amsterdam. And it all felt wonderful (well, there were a few miles here and there, when I exceedingly wanted to sit down and sleep, and definitely dream in English). It all felt like my own blood. It felt more inside me than outside me. It felt like I was travelling in myself – like I was doing part of what I was made for.

One moment in particular left me undone. We were in Cinque Terre, Italy – a seaside rim of five villages. Brady and I walked out on a very long pier in the village of Vernazza. We stood gazing out at the sea and then she went off to run an errand, leaving me alone and undistracted from the Holy Spirit, who had been cornering me all day. Pretty instantaneously I was weeping, my shoulders heaved and I felt my legs might buckle. I looked across the water and to the rough cliffs on each side and thought of everywhere that water reached – and beyond. I thought of the whole world being covered in the knowledge of the glory of God, like that sea, but everywhere. I envisioned nations, entire people groups worshiping Jesus. I pictured Muslim women throwing off their headscarves, Hindus clearing out their temple gods, Buddhists sitting up from their pursuit of nothingness and being full of life and passion. I imagined all of Italy knowing Jesus and rejoicing in the invitation to celebrate and adore Him. I was electrified. It was a Mt. Sinai moment, I had my burning bush moment years earlier in the shower, but here I was being refined by His Presence and Power. I felt I would be destroyed by the magnitude of love for God and the nations vibrating inside me. A trumpet was blasting. I heard God announce to the nations His Presence and power; and I was Moses, leading a great deliverance. It is hard to describe the fury or intensity of that moment. I felt like roaring. I felt like grabbing the city gates in Jerusalem and ripping them off their hinges. I felt like becoming invisible and running behind enemy lines on a battlefield. I felt like laughing in the face of “impossibility.” I felt like being fully me and letting God be fully God. When that happens, mountains shake.

On the morning of the third day there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloud over the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp trembled. Then Moses led the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. Mount Sinai was covered with smoke, because the LORD descended on it in fire. The smoke billowed up from it like smoke from a furnace, the whole mountain trembled violently, and the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder. Then Moses spoke and the voice of God answered him.

Exodus 19:16-19

The sound of the trumpet was growing louder and louder. I was speaking and God was answering me.


I loved all the nations I set foot in that summer and  the people in them: the ferry employee off the coast of Patras, Greece who shook my friend’s feet to wake her up as we slept in the movie theatre on board- it was the middle of the night and no one was watching the movie, so people with cheap tickets, like us, took the opportunity to get some rest – much to the condescending frustration of the employee; the laidback guy at the Princess Diana Hostel in Monaco who relented and allowed us to leave our things at the hostel for a few hours even though we weren’t staying there; the bus driver in Paris who insisted the hospital was a short walk from the last stop, though it ended up being over a mile (which on my tendonitis-ridden foot made each step like putting my foot in a high-pressure vise); the man at the desk in the grimy hotel in Tiberias, Israel who quite obviously was taking advantage of our exhaustion; the drunken stumblers at Durty Nelly’s Inn in Amsterdam (where we opted not to stay); the aphorism-spouting, high, and barely clad man perpetually in the bathroom at the hostel we did stay at in Amsterdam; the construction worker in London who kindly recovered my car’s wheel cover for me after I scraped it off on a curb in my first hour of driving on the other side of the road (it took me almost three hours to get from the rental agency back to our hostel, normally a thirty minute drive); the Frenchman who insisted on consuming his bottle of red wine and his pasta alfredo in the hot, cramped sleeping car from Spain to France – steaming my pores and those of the two other men in the car with the scent of a garbage disposal at an Italian restaurant; the new friends we had South African sandwiches with in Edinburgh, Scotland (wow, that bread was amazing!); and, of course, every single gentle stranger along the way who patiently helped us with directions, or simply scooted out of the way on the overcrowded trains as we and our massive backpacks came conspicuously barreling through.

I really loved those people. I saw God in them. They were all so different, so happy or grumpy, so communicative or non-communicative. They fascinated me. And in that fascination grew a love to love. In my moments leaning against the wall of yet another train and staring out the window at yet another country, I was consumed with passion, with vision, with dreams. God and I would ignite these nations. We would open their eyes to see their beauty, purpose, and significance. We would smile patiently at the Austrian man trying to translate the shampoo bottle for us in a grocery store. We would laugh with the American non-couple couple in the pizza place in Brindisi, Italy. We would merrily tell stories with the old Greek man who bought us dinner alongside the Ionian Sea. God and I. We had such grand adventures – winks and secrets- seeing purpose and destiny in the lives of those gorgeous people.

It was merely a warm-up for a fiery partnership. God was the kid behind me in second grade kicking the back of my chair, and I was his high school sweetheart nine years later. We were a match made in heaven. And this was our senior class trip.


"Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn." (Isaiah 60:3)

My Blog’s 2010 Social Life

The technological marvel that is WordPress sent me an email with my blog stats for last year. It’s intriguing and I’m encouraged that many people drank of the golden nectar that sprouts in heaven and flowers in my life on earth. haha. Thanks for stopping by my little house in DigitalLand. There is always a throw blanket to wrap yourself in and a warm fire to heat and inspire your most exorbitantly extravagant dreams.


The stats helper monkeys at mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:

Healthy blog!

The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Fresher than ever.

Crunchy numbers

Featured image

A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,800 times in 2010. That’s about 4 full 747s.

In 2010, there were 29 new posts, growing the total archive of this blog to 42 posts. There were 49 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 127mb. That’s about 4 pictures per month.

The busiest day of the year was April 9th with 60 views. The most popular post that day was why it is important to raise the dead.

Where did they come from?

The top referring sites in 2010 were,,,, and

Some visitors came searching, mostly for bride-to-be paralyzed fingers collarbone, selling poetry on etsy, lovesick kim walker albums, love poems, and new jesus culture album.

Attractions in 2010

These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.


why it is important to raise the dead April 2010


VICTORY – something I’m wildly excited about! August 2010


my ♥beat March 2009


I need a miracle! Isn’t that exciting? August 2010


Deaf Ears Opened: an oldie but a goodie September 2010

Deaf Ears Opened: an oldie but a goodie

This story is from November 2008. It’s about 4 deaf people Andrea and I healed in Jerusalem. A friend of mine heard the testimony on a Bethel sermon podcast over a year ago and it wasn’t until after he met me last year and I told him the story, that he realized I was “that woman.” Funny. I’ve known some Bethel folks and leaders for years now so, it’s not surprising the story made its way into a sermon without my former ministry partner and I knowing. Anyhow, I don’t know which podcast, but I’m half of the two women in the story. haha.

I’m writing it now, today, because, well… I’m waiting on something from heaven, learning how to access what is already in my pantry, and I need to remind myself of God’s goodness. That’s how I fight tiredness. I meditate on testimonies. I slowly drink a glass of His luscious faithfulness. And that’s how I win. I always win. I’ve been a victor since the day I was born again. Every day since then I am more than a conqueror. It’s in my DNA.

And so, the story:

My ministry partner Andrea and I had just returned from Cyprus – where (though we didn’t know this at the time) we met her husband. haha. We went to renew our visas and to surprise one of our spiritual sons. We went by ferry. And we returned by ferry. And then we took the train from the port in Haifa to Jerusalem. Before heading back to Bethlehem, we took our luggage and our well-traveled selves across from the rail station to the food court of the mall.

We ate lunch. I think we both had Chinese food. We sat by the window on the blue plastic bench seats and thought over our time in Cyprus. We laughed. We mused. We wondered about Dilgesh, the man who had snagged Andrea’s heart. And we thanked God for an easy re-entry back into Israel. HALLELUJAH!

As we were preparing to leave I noticed a deaf man cleaning the area. “Hey, before we go I want to heal that deaf guy.  Do you wanna come with me?” “Yeah! Let’s do it!” she responded. We approached the man. Incredibly, he could read and write in ENGLISH!!!! We began to “talk.”

The man’s name was Avi. He was in his twenties. And Jewish. And he had a great sense of humor. He was fascinated by the idea of God healing him.

We prayed for his ears. They got hot. (Many people experience supernatural heat or electricity while they are being healed.) As I continued to pray they became hotter and Andrea told him more about us. haha.

THEN, Avi’s eyes engulfed his face. “Something opened up in the back of my head, near my neck!” he said. And he could hear. I don’t mean a little. I mean, HE COULD HEAR substantially better than before. Avi was astounded, laughing, and amazed! He said we should call “911” because he was so HOT! haha! He then clarified that with “in Jerusalem call 102” (knowing that in America we call “911” for emergencies, but in Israel the number for the fire department is “102”). hilarious.

At this point two of Avi’s friends, also deaf, have come over to the pandemonium. One is Arab, the other Jewish. They speak sign language to each other. Avi becomes the translator as they decide they also would like to be healed. YES!

We pray for one, he takes his hearing aids out and he can hear! Previously, he heard nothing without the hearing aids. AND without knowing what Avi felt, he reported the very same sensation, “my ears are hot and something in the back of my head is expanding or something.” He was in shock. And his hearing was continuing to improve!

The third man also got hot. His hearing grew strong. He had internal hearing aids so, he couldn’t remove them to test it out more, but HE COULD HEAR much much more and it was growing with every passing minute!

We all sat down at a small table: me, Andrea, Avi, and the two other men. They wanted to know more about this God who healed them. And so we told them stories growing up with our Dad. haha. We chatted for maybe 30 minutes and the fiancee of one of the men showed up to the laughing table of power. She was perplexed. She was partially deaf; and she could tell these three men could hear much much more than before. Her fiance cajoled her to receive prayer. She was scared and resisted the offer. We told her that was fine and continued to talk about God’s goodness. She got interested. She wanted some. She asked us to pray for her. And her hearing improved! It was hilarious! We were all laughing hysterically, already reminiscing about 30 minutes earlier when we were two American women with a peculiar offer for prayer.

Avi called a deaf friend and told him to come to the mall to get healed. They both had video cel phones. It was incredible to see them signing back and forth to each other through Avi’s screen!

His friend couldn’t come at the moment, so Andrea gave him her contact information so we could  arrange a time to meet him and heal him too. Avi began to create a list of other friends who he wanted healed.

All laughs, hearing aids in one man’s hands, sincere friendship in our hearts, and a thanksgiving banquet in our midst, Andrea and I headed on our way.

Four deaf people healed in the food court in Jerusalem! What a lovely way to wrap up a trip! God has a knack for gift wrap! And we got to be the wrapping for the gift of hearing for these sweet,  amazing pre-believers! What an honor!

God heals. It’s who He is.

Jesus heals deaf ears. We heal deaf ears. He’s in us. We’re in Him. Inseparable.

When you know what you have, you use it. When you know what’s in your pantry, you get it out.

You have authority. You have power. You have healing. You have the fullness of heaven.

You don’t need to go get it. If you have Jesus in you, it’s there.

Get it out. It’s easy. And people love having their deaf ears open. Imagine not being able to hear ALL YOUR LIFE and then waking up into a world of sound! Amazing! It must be sensational to feel more a part of the world than ever – able to communicate with most anyone! Healing shows people that God is real and He loves people. And it’s what you were made for – to be part of His redemptive story. You’ll feel better about your life when you are doing what you were made to do – give God pleasure, transform the world with love.

Imagine how sad your arms would be if they never hugged people. They wouldn’t be arms, really – I mean, not in the sense of their fullness. And they’d get really self-focused if they didn’t hug people. They’d overanalyze themselves, they’d complain, they’d feel purposeless. Lots of believers don’t give away what they have so, they get sad. We’re designed to freely receive and freely give.

You must let the kingdom overflow out of you or you will be stagnant. You are a river, not a lake.

You are full of life. The more life you give, the more life you receive.

Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons.

Freely you have received, freely give.

(Matthew 10:8)




bang bang bang!

Jesus heals!

God is GOOD! always! 100%! perpetually!

no matter what! God is a GOOD FATHER!