~sigh~ where do I..... 
My sister Michelle is in desperate need of your prayers. She is divorced, has a great 9 year old son, but has somehow chosen so many wrong paths.....
In the past, she has been addicted to percocet, been to AA (alcoholics anonymous), been through divorce and breaking off a recent engagement, and worst of all....
: ..... she has brought her son through it all. He has matured much faster than any child I know.
I plea my desires to my brothers and sisters in Christ and to my Father in heaven, to intervine and make "HIS" ways known to her as the Daughter of Jim Cymbala did the same:
Excerpt from "Fresh Wind Fresh Fire
At a prayer meeting in the Tabernacle, a strong spirit of intercession came on the congregation. Jim describes the scene: "To describe what happened in the next minutes, I can only employ a metaphor: The church became a labor room. The sounds of women giving birth are not pleasant, but the results are wonderful. Paul knew this when he wrote, "my dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you…." (Gal. 4:19).
There arose a groaning, a sense of desperate determination, as if to say, "Satan, you will not have this girl. Take your hands off her - she's coming back!"
Thirty-two hours later, the following scene unfolded:
"…as I was shaving, Carol (his wife) burst through the door, her eyes wide. "Go downstairs" she blurted. "Chrissy's here."
"Chrissy's here?"
"Yes, Go down!"
"But Carol - I - "
"Just go down," she urged. "It's you she wants to see."
I wiped off the shaving foam and headed down the stairs, my heart pounding. As I came around the corner, I saw my daughter on the kitchen floor, rocking on her hands and knees, sobbing. Cautiously, I spoke her name:
"Chrissy?"
She grabbed my pant leg and began pouring out her anguish. "Daddy - Daddy - I've sinned against you and Mommy. Please forgive me - "
My vision was as clouded by tears as hers. I pulled her up from the floor and held her close as we cried together.
Suddenly she drew back. "Daddy," she said with a start, who was praying for me? Who was praying for me?" Her voice was like that of a cross-examining attorney.
"On Tuesday night, Daddy - who was pryaing for me?" I didn't say anything, so she continued:
"In the middle of the night, God woke me and showed me I was heading toward this abyss. There was no bottom to it - it scared me to death. I was so frightened. I realized how hard I've been, how wrong, how rebellious."
"But at the same time, it was like God wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. He kept me from sliding any farther as he said, 'I still love you.'"
"Daddy, tell me the truth - who was praying for me Tuesday night?"
Please Lord, above all else....let your will be done and let me find peace in that.
My sister Michelle is in desperate need of your prayers. She is divorced, has a great 9 year old son, but has somehow chosen so many wrong paths.....
In the past, she has been addicted to percocet, been to AA (alcoholics anonymous), been through divorce and breaking off a recent engagement, and worst of all....
: ..... she has brought her son through it all. He has matured much faster than any child I know.I plea my desires to my brothers and sisters in Christ and to my Father in heaven, to intervine and make "HIS" ways known to her as the Daughter of Jim Cymbala did the same:
Excerpt from "Fresh Wind Fresh Fire
At a prayer meeting in the Tabernacle, a strong spirit of intercession came on the congregation. Jim describes the scene: "To describe what happened in the next minutes, I can only employ a metaphor: The church became a labor room. The sounds of women giving birth are not pleasant, but the results are wonderful. Paul knew this when he wrote, "my dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you…." (Gal. 4:19).
There arose a groaning, a sense of desperate determination, as if to say, "Satan, you will not have this girl. Take your hands off her - she's coming back!"
Thirty-two hours later, the following scene unfolded:
"…as I was shaving, Carol (his wife) burst through the door, her eyes wide. "Go downstairs" she blurted. "Chrissy's here."
"Chrissy's here?"
"Yes, Go down!"
"But Carol - I - "
"Just go down," she urged. "It's you she wants to see."
I wiped off the shaving foam and headed down the stairs, my heart pounding. As I came around the corner, I saw my daughter on the kitchen floor, rocking on her hands and knees, sobbing. Cautiously, I spoke her name:
"Chrissy?"
She grabbed my pant leg and began pouring out her anguish. "Daddy - Daddy - I've sinned against you and Mommy. Please forgive me - "
My vision was as clouded by tears as hers. I pulled her up from the floor and held her close as we cried together.
Suddenly she drew back. "Daddy," she said with a start, who was praying for me? Who was praying for me?" Her voice was like that of a cross-examining attorney.
"On Tuesday night, Daddy - who was pryaing for me?" I didn't say anything, so she continued:
"In the middle of the night, God woke me and showed me I was heading toward this abyss. There was no bottom to it - it scared me to death. I was so frightened. I realized how hard I've been, how wrong, how rebellious."
"But at the same time, it was like God wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. He kept me from sliding any farther as he said, 'I still love you.'"
"Daddy, tell me the truth - who was praying for me Tuesday night?"
Please Lord, above all else....let your will be done and let me find peace in that.
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