Everyone knows that toddlers don’t take their first steps running. They learn to pull up and hold on to something first. Then they take very small steps still holding to something secure. Often they are afraid to let go. A parent holds out open arms, only a few feet away, and says, “Come on you can do it.” The toddler takes a few halting steps. Some make it to the open arms; some fall on the way. No good parent is angry if his toddler falls. The good parent picks up the child and encourages them. This is the way children learn to walk. We learn to walk in faith the same way. God is the good parent. He holds out open arms and says, “Come.” He encourages us, and picks us up when we fall.
God has opened doors for me to have some really good teachers. The headquarters for Youth With a Mission in Germany was at Hurlach, just a few miles from where we lived. I often went there for worship and teaching. Brother Andrew and Corrie Ten Boom were two of the many teachers that I was privileged to hear. The staff at YWAM became friends and taught me a lot about walking in faith. They had a very good bookstore where I could get books both by writers of long ago and recent ones. I bought Christian albums there too. Fasting became part of my way of life too.
I faithfully attended the weekly Bible study at the chapel in Augsburg that Protestant Women of the Chapel (PWOC) held, even though it meant riding my bike the eleven miles to the chapel. My relationships with those women encouraged me in my walk with the Lord. They loaned me more books and taught me from their own experiences. They arranged for me to go on week-long retreats in Bertchesgarden, Germany, that Christian woman from all over Europe attended. These retreats not only gave women a chance to hear outstanding women of faith, but also gave them the chance to build relationships with each other, pray together in small groups, and stretch their own faith.
In 1975 some things happened at one of these retreats that I shall never forget. Barbara, a woman I had known in Oklahoma was there. We discovered each other standing in the lunch line. She was in front of me, and I was telling a story that she told me. She turned around and said, “Pardon me, but I think that you are telling my story.” I couldn’t wait to tell her all that had happened to me since we last saw each other. That night she received the Baptism of the Holy Spirit when I prayed for her. Barbara and I met an elderly lady (in her 70’s), who was a very mature saint, and invited her to join us in our prayer times. The three of us spent hours in prayer together. She prophesied over me of God’s plans for me. During one of these times Barbara and I were talking about the Lord’s Prayer and the interpretive dance that I used to do in church. Barbara and the prophet felt that God was telling them that I should approach the people in charge of music and tell them about this. I responded that I would if God brought back the memory of how to do it all. Barbara sang it through and I recalled every step. But it was late at night and I decided to do it first thing in the morning.
I had breakfast with the women that had brought me to the conference. They were ministers’ wives from Augsburg and I revered them. They had become like mothers to me. They had even paid my way to the retreat. I told them about the interpretive dance. They pointed out that the music had been planned months before; and that for someone to sing the Lord’s Prayer, the music would have to be found for the piano and the singer. They would have no time to practice. So I did nothing and I forgot about it.
After supper that night, Barbara, the prophet and I met in a room by ourselves and prayed in the Spirit together. As I prayed I began to cry. I didn’t know why. Our new friend said that I was grieving the Spirit somehow. Barbara asked me had I told the music director about the dance. I told them no. I confessed my disobedience. We ended our prayers and went to the main room for another group meeting. We took our usual seats in the front row.
At this meeting we were to have communion. During communion two people got up from their seats and quietly approached the piano. One of them played the piano; the other sang the Lord’s Prayer. They stood off to the side of the stage leaving the stage empty. I sat at the foot of the empty stage and cried and cried. I learned that the work goes on whether we consent to be a part in it or not. It would be better if we do, but if we don’t obey what we are told, when we are told, we don’t always get a second chance.
In 1975, even though I was only 24, I was the oldest woman in our stairwell. Most of the other young wives would meet at my apartment every weekday, after I put Paul on the school bus, for exercise, Bible study, prayer and tea.
Even though I was young, having come from a large family had taught me a lot about caring for younger children. We were far from our mothers and families, so I was the big sister. And having been walking in the Spirit for about two years, I sort of became a spiritual mother to most of them.
I say most of the women came to my house, because one woman didn’t. Serena hated my guts. She told everyone who would listen how much she hated me. It wasn’t any secret, and I went out of my way to avoid the confrontations that she was so fond of. I didn’t hate Serena, but I didn’t like her much. She was always complaining about how tough we had it in Germany. She was often running to the doctor for her many aches and pains to receive pain medications. And she started arguments with whomever she could.
One day about four o’clock Betty came to my door to ask me to pray for Serena. Serena had some wisdom teeth pulled that morning and was in a lot of pain. Betty said that she was going to go to Serena’s apartment and cook dinner. I asked Betty if she wanted help. She said no it was better if I weren’t around, but Serena was in so much pain would I just please pray for her. I told her of course I would.
I went to my room and started praying. When I began to pray for Serena, the Lord told me that she was dying. I had trouble believing that I heard correctly since people don’t die from having their wisdom teeth pulled. I continued to pray, and was convinced that she was indeed dying. Then I began to pray in earnest. I knew that Serena was not yet saved.
Claiming the blood of Jesus, I approached the Father. Suddenly I was “in the heavenlies.” John wrote, “Whether in the body or out of it I do not know.” I know. I was out of it. But it seemed as though I was in it. It seemed more real than any other vision that I have ever had. I was before the throne of God. There were angels there and Jesus was beside me. I was shaking, but I was bold. Again I claimed the shed blood of Jesus and marched up to the Father. “You said I could come to you,” I said. “And I have come to ask you for the life of Serena. Don’t let her die until she is saved.”
The Father asked me, “ Will you obey me?”
“Yes,” I said, “What would you have me do?”
“Go to her and make her eat. Feed her, until I tell you to stop. Make her eat.”
“Yes, Lord,” I said.
Suddenly I was in my room again, on my knees at my bed. I got up and went to Serena’s apartment. Betty answered the door when I knocked. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “The Lord told me to come,” I answered. Betty knew me well enough to know not to argue with me about it.
I went to Serena and I knelt down beside her. I spoke softly. “Serena, do you want to get well?” I asked her. She could barely answer me. “Yes, it hurts so bad, please pray for me.” “I did pray for you Serena and God told me that you must eat. You must eat now.” “I can’t eat,” she quietly whined to me. “I can’t.” “Yes, you can Serena. I will feed you.”
I went to Betty. “What food do you have? Serena must eat.” She handed me a plate that she had prepared for one of the children of rice, mixed vegetables and chicken. “This will do,” I said. “She can’t eat that,” Betty said. “ She must,” I said, “ And she will.”
I carried the food to Serena’s bedroom and began to feed her. She was crying between bites. Telling me over and over again that she could not eat. I kept my voice quiet but firm, telling her that she must eat. One spoonful after another I placed in her mouth in spite of the arguments. Betty came to the bedroom door. “Please, Rebecca, don’t you think that it is enough? She is in such pain.” “Betty,” I said, “Go back in with the children. You don’t need to watch this. She will eat until God says it is enough.” I kept feeding Serena. Finally the Lord said it was enough. Now this was a plate of food for a four year old and Serena had not finished it all. But it had been a real battle to get her to eat what she did.
“Good, Serena,” I told her. “That is enough, you will get better now.” I took the plate to Betty and left the apartment. It was the strangest thing that God had ever asked me to do thus far. I had fought my best friend to save my worst enemy. I felt very strange and yet I was positive that I was doing what God had told me to do.
In about an hour there was a knock at my door. It was Ruben, Serena’s husband. He had come to thank me for making Serena eat. After I left, Serena threw up. She threw up all of the dinner that I had fed her and two bottles of pain pills that she had taken. No one but God knew that she had taken those pills. But God knew, and knew just how to save her. Before the summer was out, Serena would give her life to the Lord and be a changed person. My obedience had given her a chance of new life. I cannot thank the Lord enough for what He has done.
While I remember a lot of good things about 1975, my worst disobedience came that year also.
In another stairwell of that same building there lived a 10-year-old girl, her mother, and her stepfather. One day, one of the ladies from my building told me that the stepfather had sexually abused the little girl. He had been arrested and the commander would be deciding his fate.
I took all of this to the Lord in prayer. God told me to go to the commander and tell him that Richard and I would be willing to adopt, or foster care the little girl. I waited for Richard to come home and discussed the situation with him. Richard said that he did not want me to go to the commander. He told me that commanders have resources that we don’t necessarily know about. He said that he did not want me to make a fool of myself, and that he did not want to get involved. I didn’t go to the commander.
About a week later, I heard that the family had been moved to another military community in Germany where there was a military hospital and the family could get out patient counseling.
About 7 weeks after that, a medic that both Richard and I knew, told us that the stepfather had brutally killed the little girl. He was the one called to the site. He told us it was the most grotesque site that he had ever seen. There was blood on all the walls. To this day, I weep when I think what my disobedience cost. It is easy to say, it wasn’t my fault, because I obeyed my husband’s wishes. Or to say that maybe the commander would have not placed the girl in our home anyway. But I cannot cop out that way. I knew what God told me to do. I didn’t obey Him. Perhaps if I had given the commander another option, he would have taken it. Perhaps if I had obeyed, that beautiful little girl would have lived.
I should have gotten God’s point from the interpretive dance issue. In that case I respected the opinions of older women and didn’t want to look foolish in their eyes. In this case I thought I was submitting to my husband. I can tell you that the combination of these last two events changed my life forever. When God tells you to do something, He knows what He is doing. You don’t have to know what the reason is; you only have to obey. The thing may seem small and silly, like feeding a bit of food to someone. It may make your friends angry and may even go against your husband’s authority, but if you are sure that God told you to do it. Do it. You never know when a life hangs in the balance.
Hearing of this child’s death affected Richard too. He learned to accept my spiritual walk. He was not ready to give his life to God, but he no longer hindered mine. He actually began to encourage me to do God’s will. He saw real manifestations of the power of God on my life. I think that at least some of the time he was afraid to get between God and me. Outwardly he seemed pious. Some Sundays he would drive me to church. Sometimes he would even attend a regular protestant service with me. We held prayer meetings in our home. I was “God mother” for many adults at their baptism. (Though I personally never baptized anyone.)
The Lord started to use me to manifest the gift of prophecy to the church in our group meetings. At first he used me to speak in tongues, and someone else interpreted. Then He used me in confirmation. When another prophet would prophesy, the Lord would tell me what he was going to say just seconds before he would say it. Then I could say, “Yes, this is what the Lord told me too.” Then slowly He would give me something to say in English that perhaps was just a sentence or two. The other prophet could say, “Yes, this is what the Lord is saying.” My faith was growing.
People often define prophecy as the ability to see the future, or to know something from the past that you couldn’t have known otherwise. But really a prophet is just God’s mouthpiece. A prophet is someone that is accustomed to hearing God’s voice and is willing to repeat what they hear. God may speak a word of encouragement to someone. God has shown me things of the future and of the past that I could not have known otherwise, but mostly He uses me to demonstrate His love for His children. Sometimes God does a healing through me, using the gift of prophecy. He will tell me that He wants to heal someone of a certain ailment. Speaking that out encourages the faith of the one who is to receive. Of all the spiritual gifts, prophecy is the easiest for me to manifest because it flows so naturally out of the many hours spent in relationship with God.
In 1976 Richard got orders to return to Lawton, Oklahoma. We would stop in Ohio on our way there. We had been thinking about buying a van and we agreed that we should buy it in Ohio while we were there so that our trip west would be more comfortable. We made a list of the features it should have. Number 1 it should be an automatic transmission. If I were ever going to learn to drive, I would need an automatic. Number 2 it had to have air conditioning. Oklahoma is hot in the summer time. Number 3 it had to have a sliding side door. We knew that we would not remain in the states long, and the streets in Germany are very narrow. Opening side doors would be difficult. Number 4 it couldn’t be a conversion-van because I would want to haul a lot of people in it in the future. Number 5 it had to be used because we couldn’t afford a new one. Number 6 we had to get it at a place that would accept the station wagon has a trade in. We couldn’t get it from a private party. We didn’t think about color or even make. I laid this list before the Lord in prayer.
Richard and I set aside one day of our time in Ohio to go to Columbus to find and buy the van. It is a two-hour trip from my hometown. As we arrived on the outskirts of Columbus, I asked Richard to stop by a phone booth so I could look at the phone book. I prayed and ask God where we should go to buy the van. He gave me the answer. It was a car dealership on the north side of town. I got back in the car and told Richard what God had told me. He smiled and said, “Well there are lots of dealerships between here and there, why don’t we look at some of them on the way?”
So we spent the day going from one dealership to another. No one had used vans for sale. At that time conversion vans were becoming very popular. People bought old vans and had them converted or made them over themselves. Remember shag carpeting? Only a few dealers had new vans. And many of them were conversion vans. Finally we were on the north side of town. We were pulling out of another dealership with no vans. It was fifteen minutes until 5:00. Richard was tired and frustrated, ready to go home. I saw the dealership that God had told me about across the highway. I begged him for this one last stop. He agreed just to shut me up. As we pulled into the parking lot I spotted a red van. I said, “There is our van.” He said, “No that is not for sale. That is in the employee parking.” We went in and met a salesman. He told us that they had only one van for sale, the red one in the parking lot. It met every requirement on our list. We left the station wagon there and drove the van home.
Although we were attending a Lutheran church in Lawton, I started attending a Spirit-filled undenominational church at Sunday night and weeknight services. It was called Maranatha. I attended a couple of daytime Bible studies with ladies from that church too. I was in a local Charismatic group called Women Sharing Christ. I taught Sunday school at the Lutheran Church and was on the board of the women’s group there. Richard joined the choir. For a brief time in our lives, we were friends again.
It was in these small groups from Maranatha Church and Women Sharing Christ that I felt protected enough to speak out what God gave me to say. There were enough other prophets to confirm or correct what I would say. This helps a prophet gain confidence. One day at one of these Bible studies God gave me one word. I spoke it. Another woman added one word. Each woman was given one word. It was an exercise in obedience and in unity. It was really cool.
One night at the undenominational church I came in just a little before the service and began to pray. Suddenly I saw Jesus. He went to a woman and stood before her and laid his hand on her. He walked through the church, moving through the pews, touching this one, and passing that one. Sometimes coming back to touch one He skipped. He didn’t come to me, but He passed by me. I was sitting in the pew, and as He passed in front of me, my skirt brushed aside as if a person had moved there. He didn’t speak to me. And then He was gone as suddenly as He appeared.
The speaker that night was from out of town. He taught and when he was finished he picked up a different mike so that he could move through the crowd prophesying. He went first to the woman that Jesus touched first. And then moved to the one that Jesus touched second. He spoke words of encouragement to each person that I had seen Jesus touch, in the same order that I had seen Jesus touch them. Except for the last person. The speaker started to take off his mike, but he had not spoken to the last person. I cried out. “Don’t take off your mike. There is one more that Jesus wants to touch.” He put the mike back on and moved to the person that I had seen Jesus touch last. And then I shared how I had seen Jesus earlier in the evening. What a confirmation that was!
I wanted to get my driver’s license while we were in the states. I took my learner’s permit test again. I was afraid to let Richard teach me. We had tried that once. I had an accident while he was teaching me in 1972. Fortunately no one was hurt, but I became terribly afraid to try to drive. I prayed about learning and felt it was God’s will. Linda, a friend who drove a truck, agreed to teach me. We got in the van together. It would not start. When I couldn’t start it, she tried. No go. When Richard came home, it started right up for him. “You must have flooded it,” he said. “No.” I had worked on enough cars with him to know how to not flood one. “Well, there is nothing wrong with it now,” he said. So Linda came the next day. I let her try to start the van first. It wouldn’t start. Of course it started when Richard came home. I began to pray about this situation. I told God if not driving is his way of keeping me dependent on Richard, I was willing to accept that. All I wanted to know from him is should I stop trying to learn, or should I continue. Sunday I went to Maranatha church. After church I went up to one of my friends who has the gift of prophecy. I told her that I needed to hear a word from the Lord. She sent for her husband who had a very strong gift of prophecy. He came and prayed with me. He looked puzzled, so I asked him what was wrong. “I only get one word,” he said.
“I just need one word,” I said.
“You don’t understand,” he said, “It is really just one word, over and over again.”
“What is the word?” I nearly shouted.
“Continue, continue, continue,” he said.
“ That is the only word I needed to know.” I told him. And then I told him the story. I wouldn’t learn to drive until later that year, but I would learn to drive. There is more to this story later.
One evening at Maranatha as I was finding a pew, I over heard some men talking about Katherine Kuhlman. They were discussing her ministry and death. One of them said, “I wonder who will pick up her mantle.” I heard the Lord say to me, “You will, Rebecca.” I didn’t even know who she was. By that time I had not been “exposed” to many Charismatic communities. I didn’t know what a “mantle” was either. I didn’t let it disturb me though. I knew that what ever it or she was, God would show me in time. And of course, he did. I learned that the mantle or “overcoat” was a sign of authority or ministry. Moses passed his to Joshua. Elijah passed his to Elisha. I learned enough about Katherine Kuhlman to know she was a prophet and healer. I didn’t think of myself as a healer, and really not much of a prophet yet either. It was just a little thing. It was something to tuck away in my heart and hold.
Richard got orders for Germany. A few days before we were to leave, the Battalion held a picnic in an unpopulated part of Fort Sill. I left the group of women that I was talking to and went running through the field to the van for some pictures. My left foot went over a snake as my right foot kicked it. As it came up about to my knee, I heard the Lord say, “I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” I shook my right leg, went a few steps more and turned to look. It was a six-foot long rattlesnake. I called to the men at the picnic. One of them shot it.
Within five minutes our children called from where they were playing (about 50 feet from where I had been.) The man killed another rattlesnake about five feet long. He skinned them and we barbecued them. We gave the rattles to the children but Richard tanned the skin of “my” snake. I still have it.
Later I found that what the Lord said that day was a direct quote of Luke 10:19. I took it as a visible sign of an inward call. My ministry during the next three years would often lead to deliverances, very real confrontations with Satan. I never feared for my children or myself. God had shown me His ability to protect us.
As hard as I have tried over the years to memorize scripture, I have not been able. But when I hear it, word for word, I know it is not my own thoughts. Satan, too, can quote scripture. But when he does, he twists the meaning. Though I have never been able to memorize the scripture, God has explained it to me. So that I can recognize the twists Satan takes. Sometimes in my moments of despair, only the knowledge that this is an obvious twist, one I’ve heard before, reveals a temptation to be what it is.
Richard went to Germany ahead of the boys and I. We went to my mother’s house for the summer. One afternoon I had been cleaning the oven and was black all over, when my sister came in and asked if I wanted to drive to a nearby town and get some ice cream. I didn’t plan to get out of the car, so I went with her. While she was in the ice cream place, I noticed a AAA Travel Agency. Years before when I lived in Columbus, I had worked for them. I got out of the car and walked into the agency. I introduced myself and told them that I had used to work for AAA and just wanted to let them know that I was staying the summer nearby in case they needed part-time help. I was hired on the spot. Considering how I looked, it was a miracle.
While I was working at the AAA office, I noticed the driving instructor giving lessons to handicapped people. One day I asked him, “Do you think you could teach me to drive?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I have a handicap.” I told him. “I am paralyzed with fear every time I get behind the wheel. In fact sometimes I break out into tears.”
“I can teach you,” he said. And for some reason I believed him. Two weeks later I had my driver’s license. And two weeks after that I had orders to fly to Germany. Right at the last minute, God saw that I got that driver’s license.
