Home
Site Map
Login
Register
Greetings 
Christianity Oasis Forum
6 posts
† Page 1 of 1
A conversation with God?
by Guest » Sun May 02, 2010 7:51 am
A conversation with God?
LaPorte man's story spreads, raising question: What defines a miracle?
By VIRGINIA BLACK
Tribune Staff Writer
Jeff Kling dropped into the hard plastic seat of the hospital lab waiting room, head spinning with the news he'd just been handed not even an hour earlier.
That mole on his back that had been growing over the years and then split open, bleeding, was a malignant melanoma. Come over right now, the dermatologist's nurse had said over the phone.
And then the LaPorte doctor had told Kling, paper in hand, "Jeff, when I saw your pathology report, I about fell off my chair. This is about as bad as it gets."
It was already a Stage III, maybe even a Stage IV malignant melanoma, the doctor said. The survival rate could be as high as 50 percent, as low as 15 percent. Kling recalls being dispatched straight to the hospital lab down the street for blood tests and chest X-rays.
A handful of other people were sitting in the small room. His wife, Traci, jumped up from her seat, heading for the hallway to make some cell phone calls; the news was so fresh that no one else yet knew the grim diagnosis.
Kling recalls seeing the magazines sitting there, but he didn't pick one up. He was consumed with his own thoughts  "Maybe the diagnosis was wrong"; "I'm 44 years old, I can't have cancer"  when he noticed the thin blond woman sitting next to him, staring.
Kling turned to face her. "Do I know you?"
The 30-something woman spoke.
"'I've never done this before and I'm really shy, but right now, God is telling me to do a healing prayer for that gentleman sitting next to me,'" Kling describes. The woman was flanked by a wall. He was the only "gentleman" sitting next to her.
"I said to myself, 'It can't hurt,' so I said, 'Sure.'"
The woman, who would later tell Kling her name  Beth  and refer to the church in LaPorte she attends, reached out with her right hand, touched his left shoulder and said a prayer as they both lowered their heads.
Attempts to contact Beth last week for this article were unsuccessful. But she, too, later described the event, captured in a recording on her church's website:
"When I first got in the waiting room, I started having a pounding in my chest, so I kind of felt that something was going to happen. ... And then Jeff came in and sat next to me and it was so strong. I mean, it was like this overwhelming feeling," she described in the podcast. "I said, 'OK, God, what is this?' And he said, 'Pray for him.' I looked around and was like, 'In front of all these people?' because everyone who knows me, I'm a pretty shy and awkward person when it comes to stuff like that.
"I asked one more time, 'Are you sure?' and he said, 'Yes.' He wanted to do a healing. ... and I didn't even care what he (Jeff) was going to say. I just knew that God wanted me to."
'I wasn't even sure there was a God'
Jeff Kling's parents dragged him along to Elkhart's Church of the Brethren as a child. At least, that's the way he remembers it now. By the time he was in high school and able to exercise some free will, he stopped attending completely.
Kling was an athlete, into sports of all kinds. Ironically, he was accepted into the religiously affiliated Bethel College on scholarships to play baseball, with the goal of becoming a professional baseball player. Even then, when attending Bethel's mandatory three-times-a-week chapel services, he and his baseball buddies would sneak out the back.
He met Traci there, and when she became pregnant, they married and dropped out after two years of college. They had five young children within five years.
Supporting his family became his focus. Kling worked sales and management jobs and, several years ago, established a lucrative home business selling vintage baseball cards on eBay. God was nowhere in sight.
"I struggled with this whole thing about church and God and religion," Kling says. "The way I'm wired is that if I can't touch it and see it and feel it, I have a hard time believing in it."
The Rev. Carl Galloway, Traci's uncle and senior pastor of LaPorte Missionary Church, says the Klings attended church so rarely that he recalls discussing with church elders several times the possibility of removing the Klings' names from the membership rolls.
"I thought in my mind," Kling says, "I was done with anything to do with God."
So when a doctor first furrowed his brow over "the biggest mole I've ever seen," it never occurred to Kling to even pray for his own healing.
'I turned my back on you'
Malignant melanoma is one of the less common but one of the deadliest forms of skin cancer. Its insidiousness stems from its depth; the deeper it sinks into the skin, the more likely it is that the cancer will have spread into the bloodstream and lymph nodes.
Jeff Kling's initial diagnosis in late September was of a Stage III malignant melanoma, 4.5 millimeters deep.
Specialists at the University of Chicago examined the original reports, performed more tests, reconfirmed the diagnosis and scheduled surgery for Oct. 14.
Dr. Nora Jaskowiak, a surgical oncologist with the University of Chicago, says doctors there removed the growth from the upper right section of his back, and the lymph nodes  a "sentinel node biopsy"  from under his right arm for testing.
The complicated, three-hour surgery was meant to be outpatient, with Traci driving Jeff home from Chicago that afternoon. But Jeff Kling and Jaskowiak say that Kling was nauseated and vomiting for hours afterward, so he was admitted for the night.
He dozed for a while after the nausea had finally abated and the noisy hospital had quieted a bit. A nurse woke him to check on him. about 2 a.m. He says he settled back down, closing his eyes, when he said aloud to himself, "I wonder why I couldn't go home today? I wonder why I was so sick?"
He wasn't expecting an answer, but when he heard one, his eyes flew open and he looked around. No one was there.
"Jeff, I made you sick today in this hospital, because I want to talk to you.""I said, 'Why didn't you just wait until I got home to talk to me?'" Kling says now.
"Without hesitation, that voice said, 'Because, Jeff, when you're home, you're so busy, I can never get your attention.'"
Kling thought about that. He always has on a TV or is on a computer; even when he sleeps, he flips on a fan for noise.
"You've got my attention now," Kling says he responded, still talking aloud. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Jeff, first of all, I've healed you for a reason." Now Kling remembered Beth, the blond woman, and the healing prayer in the waiting room. He felt great at first, then felt guilty.
"I don't know why you'd want to heal me," Kling responded, "because I turned my back on you a long time ago."
"Jeff," the voice said, "I've never turned my back on you, and I love you."
'I just want you to tell it'
When Kling tells his story, even six months later, his voice cracks, and his eyes fill with tears.
"You know how when someone tells you they love you and you get that warm, gushy feeling? This was a million times like that," he says, excitedly. "It was this feeling of indescribable love."
Then Kling describes a round, white light emanating from the upper right corner of his sterile room, moving toward him lying on his hospital bed. He finds it difficult to express, but the sight included white gates, and he's certain it's a view of what awaits him: heaven.
"I said, 'I want to go there right now,'" he says. "Five minutes before, I wasn't ready to go. I wasn't ready to die. But he said, 'Not yet. It's not time yet.'"
The voice told him to do three things: "To love me with all your heart and all your soul. I want you to love everyone here on earth. And then, tell your story."
Kling worried about whether he'd be believed. "He said, 'I will take care of how it affects people. I just want you to tell it.'"
Soon afterward, the nurse came back into his room, and Kling says he asked whether he was given any medication; she told him, only fluids.
He asked whether he'd been hallucinating; he says she told him no.
The next morning, when Traci picked him up and they were driving home, she said, "So, how was last night?"
"I said, 'I had a conversation with God last night.'"
So began the telling of a story that has spread word of mouth  Kling has established no website, written no book, and charges no fee  for the last six months.
'He changed Jeff'
A week later, doctors performed more tests searching for signs of cancer. Jaskowiak confirms those tests were negative.
Kling, who says he had been told earlier by other doctors that it was likely that follow-up treatment of some type would be needed, had been confident that the news would be good and that he was healed.
Jaskowiak recalls that surprising follow-up visit when Kling described to her and a nurse about that night in the hospital.
He told them, "'You guys have to sit down. I have to tell you this thing,'" Jaskowiak says. "It was really moving."
Jaskowiak is more cautious in calling Kling healed.
"I'm not a religious person," she says. "I'm a doctor and a scientist. But maybe there is a God, and that would be great if there is."
Kling had malignant melanoma, the doctor cautions, and we'll have a better idea of whether it's completely gone within five years.
But as Kling tells his story to Bible studies and church groups, they are reportedly moved. At this point in the story, when he tells them about the cancer-free follow-up test, they often applaud.
The Rev. Jeff Hines, lead pastor of Vineyard Assembly of God in LaPorte, heard of Kling's story from Galloway.
"It just resonated in my spirit that I needed Jeff to tell his story to my congregation," Hines says. Kling spoke there April 18. "It's such a compelling story that people are riveted.
"When you can have this living, breathing miracle up in front of you, it's pretty inspirational."
He says that in the days following, the story has sparked discussions among members about changes in their own lives.
But he acknowledges the "other side of it": Some people later also questioned, "Well, God hasn't healed the people I've been praying for."
"That's a question we've been wrestling with since the beginning," Hines says. "We're limited in our comprehension of his plan."
When Kling spoke last fall to his home church  that of Traci's uncle, Galloway  the pastor says it was especially moving because that congregation knew him well and could see the transformation for themselves.
"I'm convinced it was real," Galloway says. "A lot of people were as shocked as I was. ... What God did for Jeff physically, he did for me spiritually. God can change people, and he did: He changed Jeff."
Traci Kling has been struck by the difference in her husband, as well.
"He's a much more patient man. It's never about him anymore," she says. "I for one second did not doubt his story. I knew it was true because it was not him at all."
What does God sound like?
It's last Monday night, and 40 LaPorte High School students are gathered in the basement of a rural home waiting to hear Kling speak.
They're Fellowship of Christian Athlete members, and like teenagers do, some of them are fidgeting a bit during the Bible verse reading, the songs. But then Kling, sitting in a chair in the front of the room, starts to tell his story in his animated way, and they're stock still. Riveted.
He wraps up, admitting that now he's not afraid to die. He's seen a glimpse of what's waiting for us.
Then he takes questions.
Has God talked to you audibly since then?
No, Kling says, although he talks to God. He prays every morning. He's reading his Bible. He's in four Bible studies and attends other churches regularly, usually two on Sundays.
What does God sound like?
Not the deep timber of James Earl Jones or the wry, crackly voice of George Burns; the voice Kling heard was a clear, soft whisper, neither male nor female.
Shelbey Watson, a sophomore, said afterward that she found Kling's talk "really reassuring. I was kind of surprised by how relaxed he was about it."
Ask whether she believed that Kling had really heard God's voice, sophomore Courtney West said, "It's not something you just lie about."
This, in the same week that USA Today published the results of a poll revealing that 75 percent of young adults 19 to 29 consider themselves spiritual rather than religious, and that most of them do not attend church, pray or read the Bible.
On Wednesday night, Kling related his experience to 35 junior high students at St. Mark Missionary Church in Mishawaka.
Grace Roinila, a volunteer with the church's middle school ministries, had heard a member of her adult Sunday school class describe Kling's story during a discussion about miracles.
"The kids were  what's the right word for it?  engaged in what he was saying," she says of Kling's visit with them. "God was working."
Roinila says she had invited a neighbor girl who had earlier resisted her invitations to church. But afterward, the girl told her, "God spoke to me, too."
"She was struggling because she said she didn't believe in God. She said (in a conversation about a month earlier), 'I want to believe in you,' and he said, 'OK' in a whisper," Roinila says the girl told her. Then the girl heard Kling describe what he heard as a whisper.
"Everyone," Roinila says, "is going to meet God at their own place."
A purpose
Sister Kathleen Dolphin, director of the Center for Spirituality at Saint Mary's College, says history abounds with stories of miracle healings.
The story of Jeff Kling is reassuring, she says, because it dispels the notion of an "elsewhere God" who's there sometimes but not at other times.
Dolphin says she has a strong interest in how science and faith intersect.
"My first response is that there's something to this story," she says, after a reporter describes Kling's experience. "The mandate he was given wasn't just the healing, but to tell his story, and to love other people. That's got my attention.
"It wasn't to scream at other people ... and to say we're all going to hell. We've got enough of that in the world," Dolphin says with a laugh.
But people often speak of hearing from God  not as directly as hearing a voice, perhaps, but in choosing a vocation or what to do in a difficult situation.
"Somebody could be doing their morning run and be struck by what might be called a mystical experience, like a sunrise, the presence of God  'I felt the presence of God,'" she says. "I hear that a lot."
But does one have to already believe in God to believe Kling's story of hearing that voice?
"I really believe that most people, no matter what they say, believe there's a God," Galloway says.
"God has a purpose in this," he says. "I don't know what it is, but I know it's not about Jeff Kling."
LaPorte man's story spreads, raising question: What defines a miracle?
By VIRGINIA BLACK
Tribune Staff Writer
Jeff Kling dropped into the hard plastic seat of the hospital lab waiting room, head spinning with the news he'd just been handed not even an hour earlier.
That mole on his back that had been growing over the years and then split open, bleeding, was a malignant melanoma. Come over right now, the dermatologist's nurse had said over the phone.
And then the LaPorte doctor had told Kling, paper in hand, "Jeff, when I saw your pathology report, I about fell off my chair. This is about as bad as it gets."
It was already a Stage III, maybe even a Stage IV malignant melanoma, the doctor said. The survival rate could be as high as 50 percent, as low as 15 percent. Kling recalls being dispatched straight to the hospital lab down the street for blood tests and chest X-rays.
A handful of other people were sitting in the small room. His wife, Traci, jumped up from her seat, heading for the hallway to make some cell phone calls; the news was so fresh that no one else yet knew the grim diagnosis.
Kling recalls seeing the magazines sitting there, but he didn't pick one up. He was consumed with his own thoughts  "Maybe the diagnosis was wrong"; "I'm 44 years old, I can't have cancer"  when he noticed the thin blond woman sitting next to him, staring.
Kling turned to face her. "Do I know you?"
The 30-something woman spoke.
"'I've never done this before and I'm really shy, but right now, God is telling me to do a healing prayer for that gentleman sitting next to me,'" Kling describes. The woman was flanked by a wall. He was the only "gentleman" sitting next to her.
"I said to myself, 'It can't hurt,' so I said, 'Sure.'"
The woman, who would later tell Kling her name  Beth  and refer to the church in LaPorte she attends, reached out with her right hand, touched his left shoulder and said a prayer as they both lowered their heads.
Attempts to contact Beth last week for this article were unsuccessful. But she, too, later described the event, captured in a recording on her church's website:
"When I first got in the waiting room, I started having a pounding in my chest, so I kind of felt that something was going to happen. ... And then Jeff came in and sat next to me and it was so strong. I mean, it was like this overwhelming feeling," she described in the podcast. "I said, 'OK, God, what is this?' And he said, 'Pray for him.' I looked around and was like, 'In front of all these people?' because everyone who knows me, I'm a pretty shy and awkward person when it comes to stuff like that.
"I asked one more time, 'Are you sure?' and he said, 'Yes.' He wanted to do a healing. ... and I didn't even care what he (Jeff) was going to say. I just knew that God wanted me to."
'I wasn't even sure there was a God'
Jeff Kling's parents dragged him along to Elkhart's Church of the Brethren as a child. At least, that's the way he remembers it now. By the time he was in high school and able to exercise some free will, he stopped attending completely.
Kling was an athlete, into sports of all kinds. Ironically, he was accepted into the religiously affiliated Bethel College on scholarships to play baseball, with the goal of becoming a professional baseball player. Even then, when attending Bethel's mandatory three-times-a-week chapel services, he and his baseball buddies would sneak out the back.
He met Traci there, and when she became pregnant, they married and dropped out after two years of college. They had five young children within five years.
Supporting his family became his focus. Kling worked sales and management jobs and, several years ago, established a lucrative home business selling vintage baseball cards on eBay. God was nowhere in sight.
"I struggled with this whole thing about church and God and religion," Kling says. "The way I'm wired is that if I can't touch it and see it and feel it, I have a hard time believing in it."
The Rev. Carl Galloway, Traci's uncle and senior pastor of LaPorte Missionary Church, says the Klings attended church so rarely that he recalls discussing with church elders several times the possibility of removing the Klings' names from the membership rolls.
"I thought in my mind," Kling says, "I was done with anything to do with God."
So when a doctor first furrowed his brow over "the biggest mole I've ever seen," it never occurred to Kling to even pray for his own healing.
'I turned my back on you'
Malignant melanoma is one of the less common but one of the deadliest forms of skin cancer. Its insidiousness stems from its depth; the deeper it sinks into the skin, the more likely it is that the cancer will have spread into the bloodstream and lymph nodes.
Jeff Kling's initial diagnosis in late September was of a Stage III malignant melanoma, 4.5 millimeters deep.
Specialists at the University of Chicago examined the original reports, performed more tests, reconfirmed the diagnosis and scheduled surgery for Oct. 14.
Dr. Nora Jaskowiak, a surgical oncologist with the University of Chicago, says doctors there removed the growth from the upper right section of his back, and the lymph nodes  a "sentinel node biopsy"  from under his right arm for testing.
The complicated, three-hour surgery was meant to be outpatient, with Traci driving Jeff home from Chicago that afternoon. But Jeff Kling and Jaskowiak say that Kling was nauseated and vomiting for hours afterward, so he was admitted for the night.
He dozed for a while after the nausea had finally abated and the noisy hospital had quieted a bit. A nurse woke him to check on him. about 2 a.m. He says he settled back down, closing his eyes, when he said aloud to himself, "I wonder why I couldn't go home today? I wonder why I was so sick?"
He wasn't expecting an answer, but when he heard one, his eyes flew open and he looked around. No one was there.
"Jeff, I made you sick today in this hospital, because I want to talk to you.""I said, 'Why didn't you just wait until I got home to talk to me?'" Kling says now.
"Without hesitation, that voice said, 'Because, Jeff, when you're home, you're so busy, I can never get your attention.'"
Kling thought about that. He always has on a TV or is on a computer; even when he sleeps, he flips on a fan for noise.
"You've got my attention now," Kling says he responded, still talking aloud. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Jeff, first of all, I've healed you for a reason." Now Kling remembered Beth, the blond woman, and the healing prayer in the waiting room. He felt great at first, then felt guilty.
"I don't know why you'd want to heal me," Kling responded, "because I turned my back on you a long time ago."
"Jeff," the voice said, "I've never turned my back on you, and I love you."
'I just want you to tell it'
When Kling tells his story, even six months later, his voice cracks, and his eyes fill with tears.
"You know how when someone tells you they love you and you get that warm, gushy feeling? This was a million times like that," he says, excitedly. "It was this feeling of indescribable love."
Then Kling describes a round, white light emanating from the upper right corner of his sterile room, moving toward him lying on his hospital bed. He finds it difficult to express, but the sight included white gates, and he's certain it's a view of what awaits him: heaven.
"I said, 'I want to go there right now,'" he says. "Five minutes before, I wasn't ready to go. I wasn't ready to die. But he said, 'Not yet. It's not time yet.'"
The voice told him to do three things: "To love me with all your heart and all your soul. I want you to love everyone here on earth. And then, tell your story."
Kling worried about whether he'd be believed. "He said, 'I will take care of how it affects people. I just want you to tell it.'"
Soon afterward, the nurse came back into his room, and Kling says he asked whether he was given any medication; she told him, only fluids.
He asked whether he'd been hallucinating; he says she told him no.
The next morning, when Traci picked him up and they were driving home, she said, "So, how was last night?"
"I said, 'I had a conversation with God last night.'"
So began the telling of a story that has spread word of mouth  Kling has established no website, written no book, and charges no fee  for the last six months.
'He changed Jeff'
A week later, doctors performed more tests searching for signs of cancer. Jaskowiak confirms those tests were negative.
Kling, who says he had been told earlier by other doctors that it was likely that follow-up treatment of some type would be needed, had been confident that the news would be good and that he was healed.
Jaskowiak recalls that surprising follow-up visit when Kling described to her and a nurse about that night in the hospital.
He told them, "'You guys have to sit down. I have to tell you this thing,'" Jaskowiak says. "It was really moving."
Jaskowiak is more cautious in calling Kling healed.
"I'm not a religious person," she says. "I'm a doctor and a scientist. But maybe there is a God, and that would be great if there is."
Kling had malignant melanoma, the doctor cautions, and we'll have a better idea of whether it's completely gone within five years.
But as Kling tells his story to Bible studies and church groups, they are reportedly moved. At this point in the story, when he tells them about the cancer-free follow-up test, they often applaud.
The Rev. Jeff Hines, lead pastor of Vineyard Assembly of God in LaPorte, heard of Kling's story from Galloway.
"It just resonated in my spirit that I needed Jeff to tell his story to my congregation," Hines says. Kling spoke there April 18. "It's such a compelling story that people are riveted.
"When you can have this living, breathing miracle up in front of you, it's pretty inspirational."
He says that in the days following, the story has sparked discussions among members about changes in their own lives.
But he acknowledges the "other side of it": Some people later also questioned, "Well, God hasn't healed the people I've been praying for."
"That's a question we've been wrestling with since the beginning," Hines says. "We're limited in our comprehension of his plan."
When Kling spoke last fall to his home church  that of Traci's uncle, Galloway  the pastor says it was especially moving because that congregation knew him well and could see the transformation for themselves.
"I'm convinced it was real," Galloway says. "A lot of people were as shocked as I was. ... What God did for Jeff physically, he did for me spiritually. God can change people, and he did: He changed Jeff."
Traci Kling has been struck by the difference in her husband, as well.
"He's a much more patient man. It's never about him anymore," she says. "I for one second did not doubt his story. I knew it was true because it was not him at all."
What does God sound like?
It's last Monday night, and 40 LaPorte High School students are gathered in the basement of a rural home waiting to hear Kling speak.
They're Fellowship of Christian Athlete members, and like teenagers do, some of them are fidgeting a bit during the Bible verse reading, the songs. But then Kling, sitting in a chair in the front of the room, starts to tell his story in his animated way, and they're stock still. Riveted.
He wraps up, admitting that now he's not afraid to die. He's seen a glimpse of what's waiting for us.
Then he takes questions.
Has God talked to you audibly since then?
No, Kling says, although he talks to God. He prays every morning. He's reading his Bible. He's in four Bible studies and attends other churches regularly, usually two on Sundays.
What does God sound like?
Not the deep timber of James Earl Jones or the wry, crackly voice of George Burns; the voice Kling heard was a clear, soft whisper, neither male nor female.
Shelbey Watson, a sophomore, said afterward that she found Kling's talk "really reassuring. I was kind of surprised by how relaxed he was about it."
Ask whether she believed that Kling had really heard God's voice, sophomore Courtney West said, "It's not something you just lie about."
This, in the same week that USA Today published the results of a poll revealing that 75 percent of young adults 19 to 29 consider themselves spiritual rather than religious, and that most of them do not attend church, pray or read the Bible.
On Wednesday night, Kling related his experience to 35 junior high students at St. Mark Missionary Church in Mishawaka.
Grace Roinila, a volunteer with the church's middle school ministries, had heard a member of her adult Sunday school class describe Kling's story during a discussion about miracles.
"The kids were  what's the right word for it?  engaged in what he was saying," she says of Kling's visit with them. "God was working."
Roinila says she had invited a neighbor girl who had earlier resisted her invitations to church. But afterward, the girl told her, "God spoke to me, too."
"She was struggling because she said she didn't believe in God. She said (in a conversation about a month earlier), 'I want to believe in you,' and he said, 'OK' in a whisper," Roinila says the girl told her. Then the girl heard Kling describe what he heard as a whisper.
"Everyone," Roinila says, "is going to meet God at their own place."
A purpose
Sister Kathleen Dolphin, director of the Center for Spirituality at Saint Mary's College, says history abounds with stories of miracle healings.
The story of Jeff Kling is reassuring, she says, because it dispels the notion of an "elsewhere God" who's there sometimes but not at other times.
Dolphin says she has a strong interest in how science and faith intersect.
"My first response is that there's something to this story," she says, after a reporter describes Kling's experience. "The mandate he was given wasn't just the healing, but to tell his story, and to love other people. That's got my attention.
"It wasn't to scream at other people ... and to say we're all going to hell. We've got enough of that in the world," Dolphin says with a laugh.
But people often speak of hearing from God  not as directly as hearing a voice, perhaps, but in choosing a vocation or what to do in a difficult situation.
"Somebody could be doing their morning run and be struck by what might be called a mystical experience, like a sunrise, the presence of God  'I felt the presence of God,'" she says. "I hear that a lot."
But does one have to already believe in God to believe Kling's story of hearing that voice?
"I really believe that most people, no matter what they say, believe there's a God," Galloway says.
"God has a purpose in this," he says. "I don't know what it is, but I know it's not about Jeff Kling."
-
Guest
by lizzie » Sun May 02, 2010 11:17 am
The voice told him to do three things: "To love me with all your heart and all your soul. I want you to love everyone here on earth. And then, tell your story."
A good example of how we can determine if this voice he was hearing was actually from/of God is to go to the scriptures to determine if anything he was told was in contradiction to the Word:
To love me with all your heart and all your soul. Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.'This is the first and greatest commandment.
I want you to love everyone here on earth. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.
And then, tell your story. He said to them: "It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."
Sounds about right to me
-
lizzie
thank you for sharing that floie dearby momof3 » Sun May 30, 2010 10:23 pm
God is so good. thanks for sharing this floflo...i sat here in tears reading this.
also reminds me of the parable Jesus gave about the seeds being planted and being increased..some 30 some 60 and some 100-fold...God does the increase...we are only here to tell of His love and mercy. God is soo good. Thank You, Jesus.
in Jesus,
love momo
James 4:10 Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up.
-
momof3 
- Posts: 1402
- Location: Texas
- Marital Status: Not Interested
6 posts
† Page 1 of 1
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 373 guests