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"...I cried by reason of my affliction unto the Lord, and he heard me; out of the
belly of hell cried I, and thou heardest my voice" (Jonah 2:2).
Hello to all of you who are setting out to seek the Lord with your whole heart. As the
pastor and founder of this ministry, I believe it is important to tell my story. However, I do not do this in any
way to glorify myself, for I write not as one who speaks about his own glory; but as one that seeks
his glory that sent him (John 7:18). After all, once you have read my story you will see I am a man of little import
by all worldly standards. Hence, it is a miracle that the Lord took pity on me and called me to teach and preach Jesus
Christ, for which cause I am eternally grateful.
My entrance into this world was anything but spectacular. My birth mother and father
married out of necessity and split up shortly after I was born. She rejected me for his sake and I was removed from her home
due to child neglect. After spending a couple of years in foster care, I was placed for adoption. It seemed like the beginning
of a new and happy era, but the mood changed when my adoptive parents had their own biological son a year after I came to
live with them. My adoptive father, being extremely budget minded, was not keen on the idea of having to pay to raise two
children. Hence, I became something of a Cinderella story. Although there was no physical abuse, the psychological abuse was
persistent and pervasive. However, my pain was not evident to the outside world, so, for all intents and purposes, my childhood
appeared relatively normal.
My mood became darker and darker as I grew into my teens. It seemed that nothing I did
pleased anyone and I sank deeper into the pit of dispair. I always felt as though I loved the Lord, but he seemed so far from
me. Having been raised a Methodist, I became familiar with the false image, although I did not recognize it as such at the time. Although they speak of love and acceptance, their words are empty and
my soul was famished. I began running with the outsiders at school and used drugs to gain acceptance and as a means
of escape. However, no matter how much I tried, I couldn't quench my pain. My behavior became reckless and self-abusive.
Finally, one evening in the pit of my despair I fell on my knees in the basement of my father's house and cried out to
the Lord. I cried, "Lord, if you exist please give me some sign. Please lead me to a place where I might find truth
and fellowship." It was not long after this that I saw a preacher on late-night television whom I thought was
a kook. I wrote down the address of his church and went down there a few days later, intending to give him a piece of my mind.
I was of the opinion, having still the false image, that he was a blasphemer. However, when I would have jumped out of
my seat and challenged this preacher, the Lord spoke to my heart saying, "You asked for it, so sit still and listen." It
was not so much an audible voice as it was internal, like speaking directly to my heart. Needless to say, I sat there and
listened. I returned and kept returning for many months. This preacher was expounding many keys that began to unlock
the mystery that was about to unfold before me. Although I believe he got turned out of the way by the desire to build a big
church and to increase his riches, I continued in this Word, but not in his ministry.
During the next thirty years, I experienced two outpourings of the Holy Spirit. Humanistic
psychologists have termed these types of episodes "peak experiences". During these outpourings of the
Holy Spirit, my eye is opened and the Word of the Lord comes alive. The keys fit and he unlocks my understanding. Between
these peak experiences, I go through periods of drought. However, whatever he reveals to me during these outpourings
of the Holy Spirit stays with me, and I meditate on his precepts and they become written on the tables of my heart
(2 Corinthians 3:3). Hence, "...I know that my redeemer liveth..." (Job 19:25). Not because he did a bunch
of parlor tricks or made trail through an ocean, but because I am not able to open my own eye according to my own
will. "By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not...It was but
a little while that...I found him whom my soul loveth..." (The Song of Solomon 3:2&4). I know he is God not
because I have seen outward miracles, but by the spirit of revelation. Much like scientists know there are black
holes, not because they can directly observe them, but by their footprints.
So, now I have been called upon to share what I have been given; to break bread with those of you who are an hungered. For "Behold, the days come, saith the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land, not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord" (Amos 8:11). I have no choice in the matter, for "Is a candle brought to be put under a bushel, or under a bed?" (Mark 4:21). Hence, I must let this light shine forth, lest I be as the cursed fig three (Matthew 21:19).
This is all I will ever write of myself here. You will not see my picture and I will not
boast of college degrees or the ordination of men, which I possess out of necessity. I simply wanted to share my story so
you all could see that I am nothing more than you, and the Lord is everything. He it was that first opened my eye and it is
on him that I wait for the last trumpet to sound, that my change might come at long last (I Corinthians 15:52). To him be
Honor and Glory for ever and ever. Amen.
Questions or comments? Ask Pastor Paul: