In a fundamentalist Muslim city known for its high number of honor killings, you can never take too many precautions.

Women in drab colored hijabs quickly entered from a side door.

War wasn’t on the way. Neither was a suspected terrorist attack. Just a women’s weekly Bible study for former Muslims.

“I watched intently as one by one the women trickled in, gleefully greeting each other with enthusiastic hugs and cheek kisses. When they settled into their chairs Miriam, the leader asked them to introduce themselves to the smiling, eager Americans. When my turn came, I asked them if they felt comfortable removing their hijabs. We tried not to allow our jaws to drop as we saw their beauty unveiled before our eyes, their smiles widening as they were fully seen for who they were.”

JoAnn recounts, “I asked them if we could hear their stories, for I knew each one had endured more than we could ever imagine. I listened to more firsthand accounts of Jesus’ miracles in one place than I’ve ever heard in my life! Jamilla went first, Miriam translating for us.”

The Death Sentence

Jamilla’s Story

My fate was announced. It was too late. I was set to die and there was nothing I could do about it. Even if I could move… it was no use.

My life was over, and I was going to depart this world from Deir ez-Zor, Syria like so many others in this miserable war.

It wasn’t the Islamic State that read my death sentence.

It was Dr. Basil Hussein, one of the most respected neurologists in Syria who told my family the inevitable.

“I’m sorry to tell the Darwish family this news… But a blood vessel ruptured and Jamilla had a massive stroke. If she only could’ve had her blood pressure medicine. I know medical supplies and prescriptions are scarce and too expensive for most people. But this was preventable. Maybe today it is not in preventable in Deir ez-Zor. I’m sad to say.

“Jamilla is paralyzed on her right side and I just don’t see how she can come out of this coma… Her vitals are very erratic. My best guess is she probably has a day or two.

“Unless Allah intervenes, that is, … I apologize for saying this, it is time to plan her funeral.”

This excerpt is from Tom and JoAnn Doyle with Greg Webster, Women Who Risk: Secret Agents For Jesus In The Muslim World (W Publishing Group, 2021).

But I heard Dr. Basil’s words clearly.

My mother and sisters who were there at my bedside burst into tears.

I was unable to talk, unable to move. In my mind, I cried at my hopeless, helpless, situation.

I was alone. So alone.

But then I was not.

Suddenly, I was not alone, the room dazzled in brightness.

He came to me and stood at the foot of my bed. He smiled and called my name.

“Jamilla, I am here with you.”

I could not imagine this in my wildest dreams, but Jesus was in my room. Even though I was a practicing Muslim I knew who Jesus was. He’s spoken about in the Koran. I’d also heard how Jesus was appearing to people in the Syrian War. I heard stories.

I remember thinking one day when life was so hard in my country, that I wished Jesus would come visit me. There was so much hate all around me. But Jesus was about love, so I had heard. Did we ever need some of that in Syria!

“Jamila, I know your longing for Me to visit you. I have heard your cries. Here I am!

“I’ve come to heal you for My glory.”

Was this really happening or was it the medication, or a just a crazy dream?

Jesus then touched me on my hand, my paralyzed hand, as heat instantly radiated through my body.

“Dr. Basil! Jamilla’s hand just moved! Did you see it?”

I could hear my mother yell and jump out of the chair she was in right next to my bed at the same time.

Dr. Basil came to stand over me with my family, looking for signs of movement. He was skeptical.

“I didn’t see her move. Are you sure Mrs. Darwish? I don’t think so.”

I could hear machines being checked for readings. Dr. Basil was in the middle of telling my family that the vitals were not showing anything that indicated any improvement, when I felt like reaching out to Jesus.

My right hand lifted up high in worship and Jesus smiled lovingly at me.

There were screams in the room and the thud on the floor as my mother passed out cold!

“Is she trying to grab someone’s hand?”  Dr. Basil yelled in the chaos.

I was! I so desperately wanted to touch Jesus. Like the woman with the issue of blood that touched the hem of His garment.

Jesus could have healed me instantly. He has the power to do that you know. But it’s possible that my family might’ve thought I just snapped out of the coma and Dr. Basil was just plain wrong on the paralysis diagnosis.

Over the next few days I was progressively healed. Each time it was because Jesus touched that area of my body.

My right leg was next. Jesus came in a vision in the morning and the paralysis was gone as soon as he touched my knee with just one finger.

The next day I had full range of motion with my neck and shoulders and my face functions worked except my eyes would not open and I still could not speak.

But then in the morning my eyes and my mouth opened while my whole family was there.

I looked straight up with my eyes staring towards the ceiling as Jesus began to depart the room.

The first words I heard my father say were Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar!

But my first words were “Jesus, Jesus, don’t leave me! I love you.”

Well I must say, that certainly quieted the room!

My family was shocked and not able to comprehend the words. They hung in the air.

Boom! Suddenly, we were interrupted by a massive explosion that shook Deir ez-Zor.

In my city, peace is short lived. Even after a great miracle like I experienced, reality set in.

Oil fields are in Deir ez-Zor on the ancient Euphrates River. In eastern Syria, there is no city that is more coveted by the international powers and people groups. Iran, Russia, and America are there. The large Conoco Oil facility is as well.

The Armenians were slaughtered in Deir ez-Zor in 1915 by the Turks to show that Islam “triumphed over Christianity.”

The Islamic State had a strong presence in my city also to prove that they were the new “champions of the Muslim faith.” Chaos, carnage, and confusion were normal in Deir ez-Zor.

After Jesus healed me, the war got worse and my family had to flee Syria. We could either go north to Turkey or south to Jordan.

The border in Northern Syria was too hard to get through with Turkey’s battle against the Kurds, so we went south.

The streets in Jerash, Jordan didn’t look much different from the streets in Deir ez-Zor. So many men were not working during the day. Refugees have nothing to do. But I had an assignment because I was on a mission.

I wanted to find Jesus. But how? Where could I go to ask questions about the man who healed me? Of course, I could not talk to anyone with my family present. They often talked about the healing in my life, but they gave the credit to Allah, not Jesus. I knew the truth.

One day in the outdoor market, I saw a woman who was wearing a cross necklace. In Deir ez-Zor, you could get killed for wearing one. But this was Jordan.

I started following her hoping I would have the courage to ask her a question. I had my chance as she was selecting cucumbers.

I must’ve startled her in my burqa by asking the question I blurted out.

“Jesus healed me of paralysis when I was in a coma. Do you know how I can find out more information about Him? I’m Muslim, so I think I have a lot to learn!

“Marhaba, my name is Jamilla, what’s your name?”

Though I startled Maria, she gathered her thoughts and responded with such kindness to my attention getting, awkward question.”

Did Jesus ever lead me to the right person! Maria was so warm and gracious, and we became good friends. Over tea the next couple of weeks I asked her every question I had about Jesus. Of course, I was convinced that Jesus had all power and was the Savior of the world, but I had to know what it would be like to become a believer in a radical Muslim family.

Maria told me that I was the one sent by God to reach my family.

After she said those words, I was ready. I gave my life to Jesus; it is the day I will never forget!

Maria was right! Over time, all of my family, including my father, came to faith in Christ. This is rare that a family who all practice fundamentalist Islam all became believers. I am privileged and blessed beyond all that I could’ve imagined. Jesus used the miracle of my healing to open the hearts of my family.

It was a long process, full of spiritual warfare, but all of them are in the family of God now. Can you imagine that? A Muslim family from Deir ez-Zor despite our sordid history, now loves Jesus!

But my family was there and saw the miracle of my healing. How could they deny it? And, how could they deny the transformation of my life? I used to be negative and caustic. Now I am filled with the love of God.

JoAnn: “After that incredible miracle, how could we go on? But there were more stories to hear. So, we worshipped Jesus, encouraged the group with reading special passages in Scripture, then all gathered around Jamilla and prayed for her. Lost in all of this is that she and her family are refugees in Jordan. After several years of Syrians streaming into the country, the refugees are now despised and rejected. But you would never know that by looking at Jamilla’s joy-filled face.”

“Heba, would you share your story?”

Running to the Light

Heba’s Story

It all started with my tenderhearted son.

“Mommy, why is that building glowing? Can we go in and see?”

My little Ali was just six years old and I didn’t want to answer his question. Go near a church?  No way!

The church was in the area we lived as refugees and on a main thoroughfare. I could not avoid going by it. Ali saw the bright light every single time we walked by the church. But I didn’t. He would say it was glowing from the inside, and so beautiful. He continually begged me to let him go inside to see it up close.

“Ali, we are Muslims, that building is a Christian church, we don’t ever go into a church. It’s haram! I would not be caught dead in a church. Don’t ask me again!” I thought what my husband Hassan would think if he knew I was even having this conversation with his little pride and joy.

Ali meant everything to his father. As a fervent Sunni Muslim, his dream was for Ali to become a respected imam. My husband was a fanatic Muslim. That’s why we had to flee Syria in the first place. He opposed the government and if we stayed, I would have surely been a widow.

At times, that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. My husband was incredibly harsh and cruel to me more often than not.

But my objections about visiting the church with the light coming out of it did not stop my dear, sweet little son. His begging went on for a least a month.

One day we walked down the street and Ali abruptly let go of my hand. He started running. I knew where he was going. I couldn’t catch him.

When I reached the front door of the church, the Christians were singing. I scanned the worshippers for Ali, but he had gone in, sat down, his tiny body blended in with the crowd. I couldn’t find him.

After a few minutes, I stopped looking as the words of the music washed over me and drew my heart like moths to a flame. The sound was something from heaven. That is the only way I can describe it. My feet rooted at the door, my mouth gapping in shock.

Finally, a woman came over and said: “Please join me!”

So, I did, and I sat there…

I just sat there…

After a few songs, I felt someone put their hand on my shoulder, it was Ali. What an ear to ear smile he had brightening his darling face. I hugged him and told him I was glad he ran into this place so filled with love.

I could’ve stayed all day. But after about 30 minutes a pastor stood up and opened the Bible. I certainly wasn’t ready to listen to that. With all I’d been told about the Bible being corrupted and changed, I hesitated and got scared.

I scooped Ali under my arm and told him it was time to go. I thanked the nice lady who invited me to sit next to her. She kissed me on both cheeks, then we dashed out the door.

The singing I experienced that day moved me in my heart. It did something to me, it gave me a longing to know God and love him like these Christians did. The words echoed over and over again in my mind:

Jesus, Name above all Names, Beautiful Savior, Glorious Lord. Emmanuel, God is with us, Blessed Redeemer, Living Word.

On the way home from the church, Ali said: “‘Um, I can’t wait to tell baba all about the singing! I have not seen you smile so much al’umu.”

This was exactly the reason I didn’t even want to peek into the building! If Ali even breathed a word of this to his father, I would pay a heavy price!

My mind was racing at the horror of what would happen to me and Ali if Hassan heard about our visit to the Jerash church.

“Ali, we’ll tell baba later. But for now, let’s keep it our special secret ok?”

The next Sunday night, I could not stop thinking about how much I wanted to be at the church. Living in Jerash was a real problem since the church was right next to a mosque. What if I were spotted?

Ali and I went for a walk and we barely got out of our of apartment and he asked about going to the church. I thought what if I just went in for a couple of minutes this time. It was dark outside and the two of us could sneak in and then go on to the market just down the block and Hassan would never know.

“‘Um, the light is so bright from the church tonight! You see it now, don’t you?”

Ali said loudly, right as we were walking by the mosque!

“Habibi, I do not see the light. I wish I did see what you see but maybe God has given you special eyes to see this… well… miracle. This must be supernatural!

“Ali, we’re going to slip in and out quietly, but you must keep our special secret. We can’t tell baba about this. Promise?”

“I promise ‘um! I don’t think baba is ready for a church visit. I think he might get angry.”

Ali’s response caught me off guard. Did he understand more than I thought he did?

He went on and explained.

“I heard baba talking about Christians and he said he hates them.  He was with some men and they were saying all the problems in the Middle East are because of Christians. Is that true ‘um? Because the people in the shiny building seemed nicer than the people in the mosque!

In the church nobody was cranky or angry. Did you notice that?”

“Oh, Ali I did notice that. They were all smiling, weren’t they? But we must be careful when talking about this. Shhh!!!”

I was sad that they weren’t singing when we walked in. But a man named Osama was speaking from the Isaiah book and the John book. I did not know that there were many books in the Christian Holy Scriptures. Within a few minutes, all the things I’d been told about the Bible faded away. The words that Osama spoke were like nothing I’d ever heard before. I felt my heart melt like honey, the expression on my face must have been noticeable to others around me.

JoAnn: “Heba was still telling her story when Pastor Osama actually walked into the room from his office and joined the conversation. I wondered if the women would quickly wind their hijabs around their heads, hiding themselves from this man. But they didn’t. Interestingly enough, they all smiled and welcomed Osama into the circle.”

Osama continued the telling of Heba’s story, reminiscing of the day several years before. “Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heba enter the service. My wife raised her eyebrows and tilted her head toward the door when you walked in Heba. I got her signal! You were not hard to notice in your black abaya and tightly wound hijab. I immediately shifted from my sermon in the book of Revelation to a Gospel presentation. I sensed you and your son truly wanted to be there. I remember seeing you sit on the edge of your seat. Ali was looking right at me listening intently.”

He has come to bring good news to the poor. He has come to bind up the brokenhearted. He has come to set the captives free. He has come to comfort all who mourn. He has come to give you a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning. He has come to give you a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. He has come to set you free.

He has come to give you life! Come to Jesus and everything will change! You will start your life over and be born again…

“For 30 minutes I preached to you, Heba, and little Ali. Everyone else there were already believers. I can still see you shaking your head in agreement with everything I said. There was a sense of excitement in the auditorium because here among us sat this veiled woman who was obviously close to salvation. We could see on your face the Word of God was deeply touching you, drawing your heart to His.

“People often say that Muslims need to hear the Gospel several times before they are ready to receive Christ. How can we say that? For God’s Word is divinely powerful. It’s living, active and able to pierce the soul! Just the very Name of Jesus can unlock someone’s heart. I had been a Muslim myself, but the first time I heard the Bible preached, I knew it was the Truth. The Spirit of God convinced me.

“Then I closed the message.”

Let’s pray, but before we do; are there any of you who feel like you’re held captive as Isaiah described. Do you want to be set free? Jesus wants to forgive your sins. Settle all of this with Jesus tonight at the Cross. Who wants forgiveness and freedom?

“‘I do!’ Heba said audibly, shocked she spoke aloud.

“Then do you remember what happened next Heba?” Pastor Osama smiled as he recalled.

“Do I? I’ll never forget! First of all, I could not believe that I answered out loud. Did those words come out of my mouth?

“Then the quiet reflective moment was shattered by the loudspeaker and the Muslim call to prayer!”

“Did they have spies in the church tipping them off when the prayer of salvation started? This was not a coincidence. Tonight, the mussein was over the top loud! I started to get concerned. Had they discovered that two Muslims were in the church?”

“But that did not stop the Spirit of God.” Heba said with glee. “Nor my longing to receive Jesus! And I did that night.

Heba’s story continues

I knew my fundamentalist husband would eventually find out about my new life in Christ. I was convinced I could hide it from him. So, when the call to prayer came each day, I would get down and pray, but to Jesus not Allah. I am ashamed that I did this for at least a month.

One day at Bible Study, Miriam read us the verse from Paul that says: I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.

I cried as my heart was pierced with shame. Was I afraid of my husband or was I ashamed of the gospel? Or both? For I wasn’t being truthful with Hassan. I was faking it like I was still Muslim. What would Jesus think? I let Him down! What about my son Ali? That was a terrible example.

The next time the call to prayer came I refused to bow down. Hassan yelled at me. But I stood strong in spite of the beatings. I recall the one time little Ali tried to defend me. That was a mistake never to be repeated, for Hassan turned his wrath on tiny Ali. I shudder when I think of how bruised and puffy his face was where his own father punched him. It’s by the grace of God his cheek and nose were not broken.

My sisters in Christ were a gift from God to me in those early days when the beatings came 5 times every day with each call to prayer. They consoled me when I would arrive with black and blue marks. We stood together because they were in difficult, life-threatening situations too. Hassan’s beatings continued, but no longer with every call of the muezzin.

Dalia is married to an imam and she survived. The threats and beatings she received were horrible. But she never lost her joy.

Rima’s own son took the house that belonged to her family and threw her out in the cold, yet she too remained faithful to Jesus, trusting Him to provide.

This was a test of my faith. Was Jesus going to protect me or not?

The bond we had as sisters in Jesus was stronger than anything, I had experienced. We prayed together, studied the Holy Scriptures, and shared our deepest fears and struggles with one another. We also held each other accountable to live as Christ Jesus and follow His teachings. James taught us to be women who are doers of the Word, not merely hearers of the Word. It is hard to live out your faith in Jesus Christ in a Muslim home, but not impossible in the strength of the Lord.

Some of my friends were able to hide their Bibles in their homes enabling them to read the precious Words of Life when the coast was clear of their abusive husbands or the watching eyes of their sons or other male relatives. But for a few of us, having a Bible in our possession was not an option. My home consisted of one room that served as both living room and sleeping room, with one of the walls making up our cooking area. There wasn’t a safe place to hide anything of value, especially a sacred and treasured possession, albeit a forbidden copy of the Bible.

This drove me to memorize as many passages and verses of the Bible as I possibly could. It was my mission. If I could not hide God’s Word in my home, I would hide it in my heart! What a gift it was, for I could carry it with me everywhere I went, sharing the truth of Jesus to anyone in need. It was if the Holy Spirit birthed in me a supernatural ability to memorize. I could easily remember whole chapters of the Bible without much effort. Memorizing the Word of God became more important to me than the food I ate. My second passion was teaching God’s word to Ali. He was like a sponge soaking up all he was learning of Jesus. He too could quote many Bible verses at appropriate times to encourage others. My greatest prayer is for Hassan to come to know Jesus as Savior.

Exhortations from JoAnn

Each of the women finished sharing their remarkable stories, all with passionate pleas for prayer.

There were huge requests with life and death consequences. Literally! The city they reside in is known for the vast number of honor killings preformed. The government turns a blind eye, seeing these brutal murders as a religious right. How could I, a believer from America, a free country, encourage these dear sisters in the faith? What could I say to renew their hope?

With my cheeks wet with tears, I told my sisters that I would never forget them, nor their life stories. I promised I would take them in my heart and share their journey’s in Christ with others, giving them a voice in places they would physically never visit. In so doing, countless followers of Jesus would join me in praying for them. The ripple effect of prayer would grow and expand until each one of their prayers were answered in astounding ways. For nothing is impossible with God.

In the meantime, I shared a verse the Lord used in my life to sustain me, time and again while waiting for His answers.

Micah 7:6-8 are beautiful verses full of hope God’s intends especially for you rest on.

“For a son dishonors his father, and a daughter rises up against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law — a man’s enemies are the members of his own household. But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me. Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise. Though I sit in darkness, the LORD will be my light.”

Though coming to faith in Jesus is not dishonoring to your Muslim family members in God’s eyes, it feels as it is to them before they come to believe in Jesus as Savior. In turn, because of your new birthed faith, your family sees you as the enemy. Thus, you suffer much at their hands; abuse, verbally and physically, persecution, and possibly even death.

He hears every single prayer you pray!

Every time you cry out to Him, He’s listening.

Every. Single. Time!

What a beautiful promise from the Word of God.

The question is, how do we “watch” and “wait” for God to answer our prayers at the same time?

I call Micah 7:7 the rocking chair verse.

Picture yourself sitting in a rocking chair, rocking back and forth as you talk to the Father about the concerns of your heart. You rock forward, gazing right to left, asking yourself and the Lord, “Is this day of Your answer?” Watching for His divine provision. You don’t see the answer coming, so you rock back, waiting for His perfect timing, your hope firmly established on His promise that He hears you. You continue rocking forward and backward, hope continually renewed in His Presence, as you watch expectantly for His answer, then rest again in waiting while He works. One day, as you watch in hope, Jesus will fulfill the desire of your heart in ways that your mind cannot conceive. (1Cor 2:9) For His ways are higher. (Isaiah 55:8-9) His love intimate as He gives good gifts to His children. (Matt 7:11)

Two hours of scripture and stories flew by. Then we prayed. Did we ever pray! Heaven seemed closer and the presence of the Lord stunned us into silence, and then into praise. It was an hour of the intense prayer I will never recover from.

After long, tender hugs, there was only one thing left to do…

The hijabs went back on. The bolted door was opened. And the women of God walked outside into a fanatical fundamentalist Islamic city to spread the Good News of Jesus. A few of them looked back and smiled.

They had unshakeable faith in Christ. They had boldness. They had a slew of answered prayers. They had the Holy Spirit all over them. They had joy. They had each other.

And they were sent by Jesus on a mission that was extreme, unwavering, high risk … because every soul matters.

Takeaway from the Underground Women’s Prayer Meeting

So, what happens when women pray? Heaven and earth are moved in response!

The same thing happens when men pray – He answers our prayers. Matthew 7:7-11 promises us so.

Every. Single. Time!

Will you, dear reader, pause right now and pray for the women whose stories you’ve just read. He knows every one of their needs and desires. Will you join the chorus of prayer for your beloved sisters-in-Christ? Just think, you’ll meet all of them in heaven one day, and spend eternity together, where you can hear the rest of their stories.

PR

This excerpt is from Tom and JoAnn Doyle with Greg Webster, Women Who Risk: Secret Agents For Jesus In The Muslim World (W Publishing Group, 2021). “Hopeless─Then Jesus Arrived,” has been adapted for online publication. Used with permission.

Further Reading:

Reach the Unreached and Stand with the Persecuted: an Interview with Tom and JoAnn Doyle

John Lathrop reviews: Tom and JoAnn Doyle with Greg Webster, Women Who Risk: Secret Agents For Jesus In The Muslim World

I was so blessed to hear this story, quite by chance—or more accurately, by providence—a few months after I retired from the United States Army as a chaplain. I was in Branson, Missouri, where I had been invited to sing at the Branson Gospel Music Convention during the week of July 14-17, 2009.

I arrived on Sunday, July 12, at the airport in Springfield, Missouri, rented a car, and began driving south to Branson. All along the way, I kept seeing pictures of Bill Medley on billboards. He was performing for the entire summer at the Moon River Theater in Branson, filling in for Andy Williams who was on vacation. Andy owned the theater, but Bill was the only entertainer whom Andy let fill in for him.

Hours later I arrived in Branson and checked into my hotel room at the Hilton at the convention center. I found out that day that soundtracks had to be on CD, not tape. I immediately phoned recording studios and made reservations to have mine transferred to a CD the next morning. So, Monday morning about 9:00 I drove through downtown Branson on the main street to the other side of town and into the countryside to the recording studio, had both songs transferred from tape to CD, and then headed back to the convention center.

Left to right: Bill Medley, McKenna Medley (daughter), Jim Linzey, Darren Medley (lead singer of Paul Revere and the Raiders), and Paul Revere at the Moon River Theatre (July 16, 2009).

When I got to the corner of the main street to begin my trek through all the traffic, I noticed an IHOP on the corner and thought, “This is my opportunity to easily get to the restroom.” So, I pulled into the parking lot, opened the door to IHOP, and walked in, and there, first booth on the right sat Bill Medley. His back was toward me, but I could see the side of his face. I thought, “This can’t be happening.” I walked down the aisle and went right by him and kept going. I thought, “When I leave, I’ll walk back the same way, then I can see his face to make sure that it’s Bill,” even though I knew it was him.

When I came out of the restroom, I was determined to greet him. I walked down the same aisle, and about eight feet from his booth our eyes met. There was no escaping! So, I boldly walked to the side of his table, crouched down at eye level, and asked, “Are you Bill Medley?”

“Yes,” he said.

“You and I have someone in common,” I said.

“Who?” he asked.

“Jack Colman.” Bill’s heart melted as an expression of love came over his face. “I know he was your vocal coach. He was mine, too,” I said, “and Jack used to tell me all about you.”

Bill was visibly stirred by memories, and then he shared wonderful stories about the spirituality of Jack and Jack’s wife, Sarah Jepson Coleman, who had co-written Portraits of Vision with Tommy Barnett. I was well acquainted with Sarah as well. When I was a student at Fuller Theological Seminary, where Sarah’s brother, Dr. Al Jepson, taught, I house sat for Jack and Sarah, and I sure enjoyed the tray of peanut butter cookies with Hershey’s chocolate kisses that she left for me.

Then I said to Bill, “You and I have someone else in common.”

“Who?” he asked.

“John Wimber,” I replied.

Again, Bill’s face melted with love as he spoke of John and Carol Wimber with great compassion, and shared how John was his and Bobby Hatfield’s producer and performed with them in concert on the keyboard.

After I told Bill that I studied Signs and Wonders under John at Fuller Theological Seminary and was on John’s large ministry team at the Anaheim Vineyard, Bill said, “Do you know how John came to know God?”

“No,” I answered.

“One day, John asked me, ‘What can you tell me about God?’ and I humorously replied, ‘You mean, Ray Charles?’

“Then John pointed to the sky and said, ‘No, the Great One!’”

Bill then witnessed to John about the Lord. While John did not receive Christ immediately, this prompted him to continue thinking about God until he received Him.

We can lead someone to the water, as Bill in this sense led John to God, but it does not mean that person will receive and drink of the water at that time.

I was in utter amazement that after hearing about Bill from Jack and Sarah decades earlier, and studying and ministering under John, here I was, crouched beside Bill at his table at IHOP learning how my former pastor and mentor came to Christ.

I told Bill that I was in town to perform at the Branson Gospel Music Convention that week, and he asked me if I would like to come to his concert at the Moon River Theater. I replied that I would, and he said, “The tickets are $50.” I replied that I would be happy to come, and he gave me the phone number to his road manager, whom I phoned as soon as I returned to the Hilton. The road manager was also a born again Christian, and we fellowshipped for about an hour on the phone. Then he said, “Your ticket will be waiting for you at the box office window, free of charge.” I profusely thanked him for the blessing.

After my performance at the Branson Gospel Music Convention, I went to Bill’s performance a few nights later. During Bill’s performance, he pointed at me several times and told the audience how he and I both knew some of the same people. He also promoted his Gospel CD that night and sold it at the table after his performance.

I was so blessed to have this encounter with Bill Medley and learn how he was instrumental in leading John Wimber to Jesus.

James F. Linzey studied Signs and Wonders under John Wimber at Fuller Theological Seminary and ministered under John on the Anaheim Vineyard’s Large Ministry Team. He studied voice and performance under Jack Coleman and is the chief editor of the Modern English Version Bible.

In January 1991, I attended the National Reserve Officers Association Midwinter Conference at the Washington, D.C. Hilton Hotel. I was an Air Force Reserve chaplain with the rank of Captain. I had initially decided not to go to the conference.

One week before it began, however, I received a telephone call from the Air Reserve Personnel Center in Denver, Colorado. The voice on the other end stated, “May I speak with Chaplain Linzey?”

Image: Jeremy Yap

“I am he,” I replied.

“You have been selected by the Military Airlift Command Headquarters at Scott AFB, Illinois, to go with orders to the National Reserve Officers Association Midwinter Conference at the Washington, D.C.

Though I could have declined the offer, the Holy Spirit instantly told me to go. I discerned something unusual in the phone call. I said to the sergeant on the phone, “Yes, I will attend. Please send me the tickets.”

The tickets arrived that Saturday. I arrived Sunday in Washington, D.C. The conference began on Monday morning. My orders were to attend leadership seminars each day. On Tuesday, the second morning of the conference, at nearly 10:00 a.m., while I was going down an escalator between leadership seminars, another Air Force officer, Major Rick Kuhlman, was coming up the other escalator. As we passed one another, I noticed that he was looking directly at me. I had never seen him in my life. Naturally, I looked away.

When I reached the bottom of my escalator and got off, I heard a commotion. I turned around just in time to see the major running down his escalator to catch up with me. He introduced himself. “I’m Major Rick Kuhlman. Are you a chaplain?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“I saw the cross on your uniform while you were coming down the escalator. There are 1,300 officers and their wives at this conference. You are the only Air Force chaplain I have seen here. We are having an Air Force luncheon at 12:00. I was asked to give the invocation because no Air Force Chaplain was known to be present. Would you be willing to give the invocation?”

“Yes, I would be delighted to,” I said.

“What denomination are you?”

“Pentecostal Church of God.”

“Meet me at the head table. I’ll save a seat for you and we’ll get more acquainted.”

Two hours later, I met Major Kuhlman at the head table in the banquet hall. Just after the program began, I was introduced to deliver the invocation. While we were eating, I asked Major Kuhlman about his background. He told me he was a born-again Christian and Southern Baptist by church affiliation. We had a delightful time of fellowship.

After the luncheon, we parted ways. However, Major Kuhlman caught up with me again in the main corridor outside the banquet hall.

“Tonight, there is going to be a prayer meeting. Would you like to come?” he inquired.

“I would be delighted to attend.”

“I don’t know where it will be yet. I’ll give you a call this evening with the details.”

“That will be fine. I look forward to it.”

After the leadership seminars had concluded for the day, I had dinner and went to my hotel room to rest before the prayer meeting. At approximately 6:00 p.m., the phone rang in my room. It was the major.

“Good evening, Chaplain Linzey,” the major said.

“Good evening Major Kuhlman,” I replied.

“The prayer meeting will be at 7:00. Can you still attend?”

“Yes, I would like to,”

“We have not found a location yet. Can we have it in your room?”

“Certainly,” I answered. “I look forward to it.”

“There will only be two people coming—a first lieutenant and me. The first lieutenant is a missileer from Ellsworth AFB, South Dakota. His name is P.K. Wheeler. He goes by ‘P.K.’”

“That’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to it,” I replied.

As soon as we hung up, the Holy Spirit immediately told me that someone was going to receive the baptism in the Holy Spirit at the prayer meeting. I did not know whether it would be the major or the first lieutenant. But I began praying that God would give me guidance to minister effectively to that individual. Neither did I know how the prayer meeting would be conducted, but under the leading of the Holy Spirit, I began to review the Scriptures I had planned to share with them and then spent time on my knees beside my bed praying.

Promptly at 7:00 p.m., there was a knock on my door. I opened the door, and there stood the major and the first lieutenant.

“Good evening, Chaplain Linzey.”

“Good evening,” I replied.

“I would like to introduce you to First Lieutenant P.K. Wheeler,” the major said.

“I’m glad to meet you. Please, come on in.”

After we were seated at my small hotel room table, the major said, “P.K. is a relatively new Christian. This morning you stated that you were a Pentecostal chaplain. Would you pray with P.K. to receive the baptism in the Holy Spirit?”

My heart melted. The major instantly confirmed what the Holy Spirit told me when I hung up the phone an hour earlier.

“I would be glad to. Let’s open up the Word of God,” I replied.

For about thirty minutes, I read the Scriptures about how the Holy Spirit came upon judges, prophets, kings, and military leaders temporarily to fulfill a specific task; the promise of the Holy Spirit in Joel 2:28-29; John’s forecast of Jesus as the baptizer in the Spirit in Matthew 3: 11; Jesus’ prophecy of the permanent outpouring of the Holy Spirit in Luke 24:49; the coming of the Holy Spirit in Acts 2:1-4; the subsequent filling of the Spirit in Acts 8:14-17, 10:44- 46, and 19:1-7, each with the manifestation of speaking in tongues. Then I explained the difference between devotional tongues and the gift of tongues in 1 Corinthians 14.

Afterward, I took a few minutes to answer questions the lieutenant had about the Scriptures.

Then I said to the lieutenant, “The major and I will be praying in the Spirit. During that time, I will lay my hand on your head to receive the baptism just as the apostles laid hands on believers to receive the baptism. Your lips will begin to tremble. At that moment if you will open your mouth and enter in with us by speaking anything you did not know, you will be speaking in tongues in a matter of moments.”

So the major and I began praying in tongues. After about a minute, I laid my hand on the lieutenant’s head and said, “Raise your hands.” Instantly, his lips began to tremble and he energetically began speaking in tongues with us.

After about 20 seconds, I said, “Stop.” I explained that the reason I told him to stop was to show that he was in full control of his speaking, as the Scripture says, “The spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets” (1 Corinthians 14:32, MEV). Then to prove that he could begin speaking in tongues anytime he wished, I said, let’s pray in tongues some more.” We did.

I gave him further instruction about praying in the Spirit daily. Joy was all over his face, and we continued having a spiritual time of fellowship. The major was filled with excitement and said, “I have never heard it explained so simply before and I have never seen anyone receive the baptism with the Holy Spirit so easily.” He had been praying earnestly for the lieutenant to be filled with the Spirit. And it finally happened!

As soon as the men left my room, I lay down to rest again, and immediately, the Holy Spirit told me that this was the reason why He told me to accept the invitation to come to Washington, D.C.

A year later, I phoned Major Kuhlman to ask how the lieutenant was doing and asked, “Is he still speaking in tongues?”

“Yes, he’s still speaking in tongues, and he wants to know the Scriptures you shared with him, because he’s telling his Baptist pastor about it. Why don’t you call him up?”

The following day I phoned the lieutenant. He said, “I believe our meeting in Washington, D.C. was a divine appointment.”

“I believe you’re right,” I replied. “Have you been sharing your experience with others?”

“I’ve been sharing it with my Baptist pastor, and now he wants the baptism in the Holy Spirit, too! Would you please tell me again those Scriptures that you shared with me?”

“Certainly,” I answered.

Major Kuhlman also asked for the list of those Scriptures so that he could effectively teach others about the baptism. I have followed the biblical model for decades in ministering in the baptism in the Holy Spirit and I have seen thousands receive it as a result. To many people, the baptism in the Holy Spirit seems difficult to receive or only for the especially holy. In reality, the baptism in the Holy Spirit is clearly and simply presented in Scripture. And it is for all believers.

Here are the Scriptures I shared in Washington, D.C., and the five Scriptural I followed that can help you in praying with others to receiving the baptism in the Spirit:

1. Study the Scriptural foundation by reading Joel 2:28-29; Matt. 3:11; Luke 24:49; John 7:37-39; Acts 1:8, 2:1-18, 2:38-39, 8:14-17, 10-44-46, 19:1-7; Rom. 8:9; 1 Cor. 6:19, 12:13, and 14:10 and 14.
2. Inform the believers that you will begin to pray in the Spirit (speak in tongues).
3. Inform them that when you lay your hand on their heads, to raise their hands and enter in with you. They are not to speak in their native language. As Oral Roberts said, “Get with those who are praying in the Spirit and enter in.”
4. Encourage them to speak out by faith, for every utterance has meaning with God according to 1 Cor. 14:10 (MEV). It is impossible to make a mistake. There is no counterfeit.
5. After believers speak in tongues, encourage them to do so daily. Believers who do not speak out by faith should not be made to feel guilty. Be encouraging and willing to pray together with the believers again if they need more encouragement.

May God bless you as you lay hands on and pray with others to receive the baptism with the Holy Spirit.

PR

A presentation by Tony Richie at Ministers’ Week 2014 at the Pentecostal Theological Seminary.

At least three aspects reward the reader of Testimony in the Spirit: the book is testimonial, methodological, and interdisciplinary. Cartledge explores the everyday beliefs and practices of a classical Pentecostal church in the United Kingdom. Hockley Pentecostal Church, an established British congregation in the Assemblies of God, forms the context for an attempt to “rescript ordinary Pentecostal theology.” This task aims at the construction of a broader practical-theological account of Pentecostal identity. If successful, the book would offer insights not merely in the lives and thoughts of individuals but in the life-patterns of Pentecostal/charismatic Christianity by sophisticated means of engaging everyday Pentecostal discourse.

The heart of the book is—as the title tells—the testimony of Pentecostal/charismatic Christians. Using testimony for the construction of theology is not new, but it is generally not held in high esteem among scholars. For this reason, Cartledge places the research in the context of practical theology, an empirical sub-discipline of theological studies. Here the testimonies become integrated in the larger task of reflection on a number of key themes in the Pentecostal/charismatic life: worship, conversion, baptism in the Spirit, healing, life and witness, world mission and the second coming of Christ. A chapter is dedicated to each of these themes, framed by an introduction, a methodological chapter at the beginning, and a conclusion. Reading through the key themes alone is a rewarding experience that introduces the reader to Pentecostal theology in a manner that seems more genuine to Pentecostal experience than analytic or systematic inquiry. At the same time, the testimonial theology provided in these chapters is not the final goal of the book. Rather, the listening, recording, and reflecting on such testimonies are transformed by a method that seeks to close the gap between Pentecostal spirituality and Pentecostal theological discourse.

The methodological proposal of the book is another significant reward for the reader. Cartledge focuses on the idea of “ordinary theology” proposed by Jeff Astley and develops it further with the help of the concept of “rescripting” proposed by David Martin. What is significant about these two proposals is that each of them emerged from the particular context of Pentecostalism rather than a general methodological framework. Ordinary theology is concerned with the grassroots ideas of Pentecostal theology, the lived, everyday religion that is based on experiences, attitudes, values, commitments, and practices rather than the systematic, academic discourse of doctrine. The task of “rescripting” this ordinary theology suggests a significant step of caution in dealing with Pentecostal theology that is hesitant to move too quickly toward interpretation by means of standard concepts. Instead, the telling of testimony is taken respectfully and authentically as the central expression of the faith among Pentecostal/charismatic Christians. Rescripting moves the testimonies carefully toward deeper theological reflection and provides gradually a larger image of theological discourse as it may be typical among Pentecostals. The result is a critically constructive study of Pentecostal spirituality that advances “ordinary” theological thought and praxis toward integrative ideas and proposals of renewing Christian faith and doctrine.

The rescripting of Pentecostal testimonies proceeds in a decidedly interdisciplinary fashion. The levels of discourse in the book at no point remain purely testimonial. Instead, each chapter proceeds in a parallel fashion from testimonies to rescripting of the testimonies. The process includes placing each key theme in the broader context of British Pentecostalism, offering multi-disciplinary theories to engage the key theme, and providing resources from existing proposals of Pentecostal theology with regard to each theme. Ordinary theology is thus brought into dialogue with discourse in the church, the theological academy, and the social and human sciences.