Archive for the ‘Backsliders’ Category
Twelve Things You MUST Know!
It’s Not Where You’ve Been…
It’s Where You’re Going!
The Prodigal Son
It’s Not What You Were…
It’s What You Are Now!
1 Cor. 6:11 And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.
It’s Not That You’ve Sinned…
It’s That Your Sins Are Forgiven!
Rom. 3:23 For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;
Rom. 3:24 Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus:
Rom. 3:25 Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God;
It’s Not What Others Say…
It’s What God Says!
Rom. 3:4 God forbid: yea, let God be true, but every man a liar; as it is written, That thou mightest be justified in thy sayings, and mightest overcome when thou art judged.
It’s Not What You’ve Left…
It’s What You’re Receiving!
Mark 10:28 Then Peter began to say unto him, Lo, we have left all, and have followed thee.
Mark 10:29 And Jesus answered and said, Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel’s,
Mark 10:30 But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life.
It’s Not Just That You Speak In Tongues…
It’s That You Show Love To Everyone!
1 Co 13:1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
It’s Not How Fast You Run…
It’s That You Finish The Race!
Eccl. 9:11 I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift,
Matt. 10:22 …but he that endureth to the end shall be saved.
It’s Not That You Are A Servant Of God…
It’s That You Are Found Faithful!
Matt. 25:23 His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
It’s Not That You Know…
It’s That You Do!
Jas. 1:22 But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.
Jas. 4:17 Therefore to him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.
It’s Not Just That You’re Living Holy…
It’s That You’re Ready For His Coming!
The Ten Virgins
It’s Not That You Believe…
It’s That You Receive!
Acts 19:2 He said unto them, Have ye received the Holy Ghost since ye believed? And they said unto him, We have not so much as heard whether there be any Holy Ghost.
Acts 19:3 And he said unto them, Unto what then were ye baptized? And they said, Unto John’s baptism.
Acts 19:4 Then said Paul, John verily baptized with the baptism of repentance, saying unto the people, that they should believe on him which should come after him, that is, on Christ Jesus.
Acts 19:5 When they heard this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus.
Acts 19:6 And when Paul had laid his hands upon them, the Holy Ghost came on them; and they spake with tongues, and prophesied.
It’s Not That You Possess Spiritual Gifts…
It’s That You Have A Relationship With God!
Matt. 7:21 Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.
Matt. 7:22 Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?
Matt. 7:23 And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.
The Princess Within Conference, By Nila Marxer
Two of my sisters, Nila Marxer and Carlene Branham just returned from the “Princess Within Conference” in Corona, Californina. This blog is part of Nila’s letter to me today about her experience with the inmates at the conference.
Nila Marxer
This prison field is filled with so many hungry women. There were 30 women who received the Holy Ghost for the first time, 18 renewed, and 12 signed up for baptism! We’ve been trying to get into this prison for almost 20 years, and finally we’ve had a breakthrough. Actually, women from this prison and the Chowchilla prison have been fasting on the 25th of every month for years for a Holy Ghost church service to come to the prisons.
I was humbled by their hunger and desire to hear the Word and to be loved.
The first picture was the entire group minus 2 people. The second was the Sunday morning picture of those who went. A lot had to go back home.
Fear will keep many people from doing the will of God and fulfilling His purpose for their life. Don’t say you want to be used of God, and not be willing to do what is needed to further the kingdom.
My life will never be the same. I went to the Princess Within Conference in Corona this weekend with anticipation of helping others, when in fact this experience helped me more than words can express.
Prayer and fasting had gone up for this conference, and when we completed the process of entering into the prison, setting up the equipment and chairs and setting out water bottles and sweets for each prisoner, you could already feel a powerful move of the Holy Ghost. Whitney Rhinehart began practicing songs, and others joined in. Everyone was involved. We did not come just to be a warm body, but we were needed. Those of us who had finished setting up were prayerfully awaiting the prisoners. When the door opened, and the women began filing in, worship had already filled the room. Some of the prisoners were worshiping and clapping as they began to find a seat. At first it took a while for the majority of the women to show up, because it was taco night, and they all wanted to eat the only good meal of the week. (The enemy was using everything to try to hinder this conference.)
The volunteers lined up to give gifts, shake everyone’s hand, welcome them, and thank them for coming. Some were shy, but you could see the majority of the prisoners craved love. Each song was effective, each sermon was powerfully anointed, and no one left unmoved. They came in worshiping like I haven’t seen in a regular church setting. Not just a few raised their hands, but every hand was raised, everyone clapped, everyone worshiped.
The first thing I noticed about the women, was that they looked like normal women, not like hardened criminals that I imagined. The majority of these women carried Bibles. Some of these Bibles were well-read and falling apart. In many of them, I could see various pages of notes stuck in-between the pages. I thought how many of us church people will go to church without our Bibles? How many church people take time to read God’s Word? Some of these women took notes on every scripture reference, and would look at their friends when a specific verse was mentioned, and would finish the scripture, reciting along with the various ministers. These women were well-acquainted with the Word, yet they were starving. Starving for the preached Word, starving for worship, starving for love, starving to feel the power of the Holy Ghost. My heart was lost to them within the first five minutes of meeting them.
On the first night, the preacher finished preaching, and opened the front for those who wanted the Holy Ghost. The women poured down to the altar. We volunteers stood in the front facing them, and soon were inundated by scores of women who wanted prayer. As soon as one received the Holy Ghost, there were many women all around them with their arms raised asking for prayer. I couldn’t stop crying as one by one these women were receiving the Holy Ghost. They fell on my neck, thanking me for coming, and showing them love. I wept with them, knowing they were my sisters-in-the-Lord. Not only did they need me, I needed them.
Before I walked into the prison yard, I had felt some apprehension, not knowing how this was going to unfold, but I can’t begin to explain the joy I had in being involved in this prison ministry, and the hunger I have to go back and continue to spread this precious Truth!
I was humbled by some of the testimonies I heard. Chaffey College was having a graduation ceremony at the same time we were having the Saturday morning service. One of the girls told me she was graduating with her bachelor’s degree. She said, “I had to make a decision whether I was going to walk and get my diploma, or come to church.” She was crying as she spoke, saying, “It was an easy decision to make. They can always mail me my diploma, but there won’t always be a Holy Ghost church service.”
Another girl said that she got her diploma, (missing the early morning session.) She hadn’t seen her family for seven years. Her family had come a long way to see her graduate and spend a little time with her. Knowing how little time these prisoners get to see their loved ones, the few moments together are cherished. Yet, this young lady walked down the aisle, got her degree, and then told her folks goodbye, because she had to go to church.
These testimonies gripped my heart, because those women cherish church above everything. So many women thanked me for loving them. (They were so easy to love.)
The first night I came home, I couldn’t sleep, seeing their faces lifted in prayer, feeling their hugs, and them gripping my hands tearfully asking me not to forget to pray for them. How can I forget?
It was during a worship song on Saturday when I felt God speak to me that I need to focus on His work. I had been focusing on my son who has been bound by sin and desperately needs deliverance. If I will focus on His kingdom and the souls that He loves, then He will focus on my prayers for my family and those that I love. It’s a win-win situation.
The last prisoner spoke to me as they were leaving and said that many churches have come to the prison, but never in her life has she felt such power and such love. She said, the love affected her more than anything. She felt loved by God, and by His people. She wondered why she had never felt love like this before.
I told her, “Honey, it’s the Holy Ghost love that you feel.”
My mind went back to the scripture, “This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you.” (John 15:12 KJV) Oh, how He loves us, and them!
She said, “It has to be, because I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life. Please don’t forget us. Please come back and help us learn more!”
I thought of the scripture that says:
“Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels: For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.”
Matthew 25:41-43 KJV
May that never be said about me. Lord, I will go.
Nila Marxer
“Just Stay On The Bus!”
“This Bus Is Going To Chicago”
I often flew out of Chicago’s O’Hare Airport when I lived in South Bend, Indiana. It was about 120 miles away. Many times, it was cost-effective for me to take a shuttle bus from the South Bend Airport to the Chicago Airport rather than to drive to Chicago and pay to park.
My wife dropped me off at the Ground Transportation area in the South Bend terminal. I hurriedly picked up my reserved bus ticket.
The waiting area was large and comfortable. I sat where I could see the buses pull up. The bus line originally was called 
United Limo, and then it later merged with Tri-State Coach and Coach USA. Its company serves Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin.
I watched as buses with their destinations showing above their windshields began to arrive. I looked for the one that said ‘Chicago’. When it finally pulled up, it was in Lane 2.
I promptly stood up and waited for the announcement over the intercom that it was time to board.
When the bus departure was declared, I hustled outside and presented my suitcase to the Driver. His name tag said ‘Steve.’
“This bus is going to Chicago,” Steve said, verifying I was getting on the right bus.
“Yes sir,” I replied, “That’s where I’m going.
He stowed my suitcase underneath, punched my ticket and I climbed on board.
I settled down for the 2-hour ride to O’Hara. I saw a few others lay their seats back to relax. It looked like a good idea, so I joined them.
About 20 minutes later, I felt the bus swerve onto an off-ramp. I curiously looked around wondering what the deal was. They told me this was the Chicago bus and this wasn’t Chicago.
I sat up and waited. The driver looped around behind an old service station/café building and stopped in the front. The air brakes hissed as the Driver announced, “LaPorte”
We sat there a few moments and several more passengers got on board. No one got off. In five minutes we were back on the highway again.
Another twenty minutes or so later we again turned off the big four-lane highway and stopped in front of a motel. This time driver said, “Michigan City.” One got off, and one got on.
Once again, we were rolling down the road. This time we were on the I-94 west-bound. We did good for a while, then the driver stopped again. This time, the name he said on the bus intercom was, “Portage.” Four more got on board. No one got off.
I wondered, how many more stops before we get there? I was not surprised when the bus turned off the road again and stopped at Griffith. Three got off there, but seven or eight got on board. The bus was pretty full.
The last hour of the ride was non-stop. We finally pulled up to the Bus Parking Area of the Airport’s lower level.
“Chicago,” Steve said. I stood up. I had made it to my destination. It wasn’t anything I did. It’s what I didn’t do that got me there. I didn’t get off the bus. I just stayed on the bus, even when others got off.
I could have gotten off at any of the stops along the way, but I didn’t. That’s why I arrived at my destination. I just stayed on the bus.
I do not believe in individual predestination. I do believe in corporate predestination, however. The Word of God firmly declares, that His Church is predestined for Glory. All you have to do is stay on the bus and since the bus is predestined; you will go where it goes. Just don’t get off this bus.
Some may be tempted to get off the bus along life’s journey. You can if you want too, but you should know, this is the only bus going to Glory. Don’t get off. Someone else will take your seat if you do.
I don’t care who else gets off, or what the attraction or distraction is, just stay on the bus!
“This Bus Is Going To Chicago!”
Just Stay On The Bus!
My Old Man Is Crazy!
My Old Man Is Crazy!
I’m not saying he’s bipolar.
I’m not saying he has schizophrenia.
I’m not saying he should be in an institution or that he’s stupid.
I’m just saying he’s crazy. He’s very smart, yet he’s really crazy.
My old man’s not right.
I hate him too.
He embarrasses me in front of my friends.
When you tell him how horrible he is, he agrees but doesn’t change.
He even makes me cry sometimes.
He has hurt me so bad that I was embarrassed to tell even my closest friends.
I hate to say this, but I really don’t even like him.
I’ve even told him that I don’t love him and I never will.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
He does stupid and random stuff that truly scares me.
I am ashamed for him to be around me.
He lives in denial and keeps justifying all his craziness.
He likes things he shouldn’t.
He really needs help, but no one can help him.
He’s read up on his condition and says he knows what he needs to do.
But, I don’t think he is making any progress.
He really needs to stop and consider his horrible actions.
My old man is not loved by anyone.
His craziness pushes everyone away.
They all roll their eyes when he shows up.
His so-called friends just shake their heads in dismay and disappointment.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
He does things he shouldn’t.
He says things he shouldn’t.
He is very good at rationalizing and justifying himself.
He’s crazy, I’m telling you.
Some would like to see him dead.
I know some would even come to his funeral just to make sure he was really dead.
He’s just that bad.
He is so bad that God doesn’t like him.
I hate everything about him.
He’s horrible.
I loathe him.
He’ll never change.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
No self-help book has a remedy for him.
No prescription can help.
Therapists can’t fix him
Warnings and threats don’t seem to work.
And it’s driving me crazy too.
I wish he was out of my life.
I can’t tell you how happy I would be just to know my old man is graveyard dead,
My old man is crazy.
I told him he is not welcome in my house.
I told him to leave my family alone.
I told him that I cannot allow his influences in my life.
I told him to go away, I never wanted to see him again.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
I told him I am sick and tired of putting up with his mess.
I want my old man to be forever gone.
Judge me if you must,
I want my old man dead.
My old man makes me cry.
His actions are corrupt.
His words are deceitful, and his life is a sham.
I hate everything he does.
He wants attention.
His life is all about him and no one else.
No one can tell him what to do.
He hates that.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
My old man was always there.
He was there when I was born.
He’s been there for every event of my life.
Good times or bad, he was there.
That’s not even a good thing.
He gets all up in my business.
He meddles in every area of my life.
He messes up some of the most wonderful moments of my life.
I got to the place I had to tell my old man he was going to have to die.
He resisted and argued loudly with me.
But I wouldn’t budge, or back down.
He said he wouldn’t die willingly.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
So, I told him to prepare to be buried alive.
I forced him to his knees and kept him there.
I reminded him of every horrible thing he had done to me and my family.
My old man said he felt so dirty and ashamed, but I wouldn’t stop.
He cried and asked for mercy and forgiveness.
That’s when my old man died.
I started smiling for the first time in years.
My old man was dead.
“What shall we do with him?” Someone asked.
“Bury him,” I said.
Several gathered around to help bury my old man.
The Preacher buried him in water in Jesus Name.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
I shouted all over the church when my old man died.
The heaviest weight of my life was lifted.
My friends and family rejoiced with me.
I even told my neighbors that my old man was dead, and I smiled a big smile.
My life became peaceful and serene when my old man died.
I put a marker on his grave.
For all the world to see.
“Here lies My Old Man… Flesh”
(You’re not going to believe this.)
Some days later, I got the shock of my life.
I wanted to scream in horror.
I almost died from fright.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
There standing at my door was my old man.
He just grinned and pushed his way in.
This can’t be happening!
This is unreal!
But there he stood anyway.
My family cringed in fear.
How could this be happening?
My old man was like some un-earthling who could come back alive.
My mother told about a man named Paul.
He had a similar problem with his old man,
And he had to make him die every day.
Every day? E-V-E-R-Y DAY? Oh, No!
My Old Man Is Crazy!
I took him to church.
I needed some help.
I couldn’t let him live in my house anymore.
He couldn’t move back in.
I told him to pray.
I told him to fast.
I told him to deny himself.
I told him I want him to die again.
He doesn’t make going to church a priority, he’s not faithful.
He won’t pray like he knows he needs to.
He doesn’t like the subject of tithes.
He doesn’t read his Bible.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
He’s a rebel.
He hates standards.
He hates preachers.
He makes fun of holiness
My Old Man Is Crazy!
He gets defensive when the preacher said corrective things to him.
Like a macabre nightmare, sometimes he seems dead, then comes right back alive again.
I wish he’d stay dead.
He’s so bad, even God even wants him dead.
The preacher is tired of him, too. He won’t stay dead.
Many preachers have tried to get him to change but without any success.
The church family has tried to tolerate him.
His whole family has about given up on him.
As long as my old man is alive, my life is spent in vain.
As long as my old man is alive, I’ll never be saved.
As long as my old man is alive, I’ll never please God.
As long as my old man is alive, my inheritance is at risk.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
So now it’s a daily routine.
When I wake up in the morning and start my day.
He’s sitting on the edge of my bed.
Very much alive.
My daily routine now includes the unimaginable.
I have to figure out a way to make my old man die every day.
It’s not always easy to do
But it must be done.
My crazy old man.
My flesh.
Must die.
Everyday.
My Old Man Is Crazy!
_______________________________________
Joseph asked his brethren this question about his earthly father.
He called him, “the old man.”
Gen. 43:27 And he asked them of their welfare, and said, Is your father well, the old man of whom ye spake? Is he yet alive?
Today, I Ask This Question Of Your Flesh… Is Your Old Man Alive?
Eph. 4:22 That ye put off concerning the former conversation* the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts;
*lifestyle
Paul Said That His Old Man Had To Die Every Day. 1 Co 15:31
Is Your Old Man Still Alive?
“That’s ‘possum gumbo, brother.”
Almost fifty people sat in the little wooden church house in Lunita, Louisiana. They had come to a Youth Revival to hear nineteen-year-old Marty Ballestero from South Bend, Indiana. Pastor Kirkland had announced revival services for the next nine nights.
There was only one musical instrument in the church, a piano. The pastor’s sixteen-year-old daughter played the best she could. She was backslidden, but they needed some music, and that’s all they had. No one else could play the piano.
The year was 1963, the month was November, and I was out in the sticks. There was not a traffic light or a 
stop sign to be found for miles. There was not much to be seen here, but piney woods. While praying in those woods I got 59 chigger bites in one hour. I spent the rest of my prayer meetings indoors. It is easier to scratch indoors.
The song service was started with the ‘choir’ coming up on the platform to sing. The ‘choir’ consisted of whoever wanted to come up. Only a few remained seated in the audience. No one shouted during the revival, nor seemed to be overly blessed by the singing or the preaching. But everyone was friendly and said nice things to their guest.
The crowd was made up of hard-working but poor, salt-of-the-earth kind of folks. During prayer requests, names like, ‘Sis. Turtle’, and ‘One-Legged Willie’ got mentioned. No one seemed to be amused by the unusual nicknames.
The offering pan was passed every night and the change clanging on the bottom was very noticeable.
I stayed in the side wing on the left side of the church, right next to the auditorium. My room had a bed and nothing more. An outhouse was not far from my side of the church. A white building now stands in its place. The wing has been more than doubled in size and everything is enlarged and bricked now.
The woods came right up beside the church house back then. The trees came so close it was almost possible to squirrel hunt sitting on the platform.
Bro. Kirkland, the pastor, lived in a mobile home with his wife, his daughter, and son. The trailer was parked to the right of the church. It sat in the tree line as well. He drove a casket delivery truck for Batesville Casket Company. I rode with him a few times during the day for fellowship.
At night after church, I would be invited to eat at their house.
I had never had much of an opportunity to eat Cajun cooking before. I had spent too many years out west and up north. One night, Sister Kirkland said, “I hope you like gumbo, brother,” as I entered her house.
“Oh yes ma’am,” I said. I didn’t know if I did or didn’t, but when you are only eating one meal a day, you don’t get too picky, because it’s 24 hours until they invite you over again.
I watched how my hosts ate their gumbo. It was served with a whole egg in it on one side and a generous helping of warm potato salad over on the other side. The rue was dark. I was hungry and ate mine up. The taste was a little different, but then I’d never had gumbo before, so I didn’t know what to expect.
“That’s ‘possum gumbo, brother.” The pastor’s fourteen-year-old son said. Did you like it?”
I didn’t want to say I liked it because the inward shock of being told I’d just eaten ‘possum was one thing, but to knowingly lie was another.
“It tasted pretty good whatever it was.” (I don’t think I would have knowingly wished to eat ‘possum, but I did.)
I had been gone from home a little over a month and had been preaching a few nights here and there. This was my first revival since going full-time.
Since the sixteen-year-old piano player was backslidden, I chose not to have any music for altar service the entire revival. I had to give altar calls without music. I wanted her to pray through and knew she couldn’t play and pray at the same time. She did pray through on the last weekend.
I didn’t know, till after service one night, that President Kennedy had been assassinated two days before. There was no radio in my room or newspaper in Lunita to keep me informed.
Sixteen young people prayed through during those nine nights. Many of them were backsliders.
The last night, Bro. Kirkland announced that an offering had been taken every night for the last nine nights and that a total of $4.65 had come in for the evangelist. He said that he would like to have the church vote to give him permission to take $.35 out of the Ladies Auxiliary Fund to raise the total up to $5.00.
All those that were in favor of the evangelistic offering being increased stood to their feet. It was the first election I had ever won.
After church, I said my goodbyes and went down the road a few miles to Deweyville, Texas, on the Texas/Louisiana state line that night. I spent $3.50 in a phone booth for a 3-minute call to my dad, telling him about my first offering. I then bought 5 gallons of gas at the Billups service station for $1.00, for my ’55 Ford and drove across the street to Nick’s Restaurant. There I ordered a $.35 Cheeseburger and spent my last $.15 on a large Dr. Pepper.
I left Deweyville broke and happy.
Apostolic Expository Series
Christy Ballestero (My Beautiful DIL)
http://marciaballestero.com/
Pastor Anthony & Kim Ballestero, New Destiny Worship Center, Clearwater, FL (My Son)
Pastor Bryan & Christy Ballestero, Temple Of Pentecost, Raleigh, NC (My Son)
James Groce Blog – "Toward The Mark"
Kenneth Bow Blog
Kingdom Speak Podcast
Philip Harrelson – "The Barnabas Blog"
Verbal Bean Ministries
Holy Ghost Radio
The Ballestero Blog 