/************** REMOVE THIS TO UNHIDE THE BLOGGER NAVBAR **************** **/ #b-navbar {height:0px;visibility:hidden;display:none} /** *************************************************************************
January 30, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/30/2006 05:23:00 PM
I spent a good part of my growing up on the backside of Green Mt. My days were filled with swimming in the lake, fishing or hiking. One day I took my dog “frosty” out to do a little exploration in the woods.

I figured that if I kept to the logging roads, I’d be just fine. There were hundreds of them, meandering their way through the forest. One Saturday, I’d been walking for hours when I came upon an ancient apple tree and an old log cabin, already fallen to the ground in a heap.

After stuffing my gut full of tiny green apples, I took off to do some more exploring. That’s when I noticed that it was getting dark. I turned around and started to run, determined not to be late for dinner.

Somehow, the twists and turns seemed different in the fading light. It didn’t take too long before I realized that I was lost. I let Frosty pull me along, hoping he knew where he was going. In doing so, I became even more lost.

We never went to church and I didn’t know a thing about God other than repeating the night time prayers my Mom taught us when we were little. I didn’t know how to pray anything else, but I was desperate and I needed God’s help.

“Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep...God, help me. I’m lost!” I sobbed.

Before I could count to ten, a fox leapt from the brush and started running up the logging road. Frosty just about pulled my arm out of socket as he took after the fox. I figured that he’d jump back into the brush, but instead he just kept to the logging road at a slow, steady pace.

We followed him up one road and then another for the better part of half a mile. Then as suddenly as he appeared, the fox vanished into the brush. That’s when I noticed the old log cabin. I knew where I was!

I don’t know if it was an Angel in the form of a fox, or a fox on a mission from God. One thing I’ve never doubted is that God answered my prayer.

Praise God!

January 27, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/27/2006 09:49:00 AM

I’ve been struggling with this question ever since the “conversion story contest” over at Faith in Fiction. The discussion on the F*i*F board HERE and HERE, forced me to realize some things about myself that I was previously unaware of.

There were some excellent stories posted, and I loved them all. I have to admit though, many of them left me scratching my head. It’s not that they weren’t well written, because they were. In fact, they were all riveting and quite fun.

“What NEED was this story trying to address?” I would ask myself; scratch my head and move on to the next awesome story.

The answer eluded me for weeks, until I realized there was no hidden agenda in many of these stories. They were just well written stories that contained some kind of conversion aspect. This was all that was required and EVERYONE seemed to get it but me; well, nothing new here.

When I wrote “Samuel Jacobs”, I had a subconscious motivation. Before starting, I didn’t pray “Lord, help me to write a really good story”, I prayed “Lord, help me to write a story that will set a captive heart free”.

I was writing for a reader whose heart was locked in anger. My protag was ready to carry his hatred for God to the grave, until his love for his granddaughter unlocked the vault around his heart.

Any reader suffering the same kind of bondage would be impacted in the same way and hopefully be delivered. Any other reader would maybe shed a tear of joy, and simply think it was a nice story. But for the heart locked in anger, it was as simple as turning the right key. The rest would be in the hands of the Holy Spirit.

I admit, this was my first attempt at writing a short story; but I’ve written over a thousand messages to youth over the years. I’ve learned so many keys to unlocking the heart in bondage. But, is this kind of illustration better left to the pulpit?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about selling out for the sake of entertainment of the greater masses. I can do entertaining; just try youth ministry without it. They will eat you alive! I’m talking about writing for the greater masses, and not some specific human need.


January 25, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/25/2006 10:57:00 AM

“Dad, dad, there’s a bear at the door!” The boys screamed as they ran for the opposite end of the house.

Without thinking (yes, without thinking), I charged to the defense of my children. I ran to the open door and saw Mr. Bear eating the tasty flowers that grew mere inches from our door.

I sized the bear up, narrowed my eyes and clinched my fists. “I can take him!” I mumbled to myself.

“Get out of here!” I growled.

Booboo’s playful eyes turned ugly, his lips parted into a snarl showing his long pointy teeth. He dropped the flowers he’d been playing with, and for the first time I noticed, his claws were as long as knitting needles.

Ok, I know what you are thinking. I should have jumped the bear before he saw me. Another way to go would have been just to let him have one of the boys. Who needs five kids anyway?

Booboo didn’t look so big while sitting, but standing he took on a quality more potent than ex-lax. I have always been a quick thinker, so I smiled apologetically and stepped quickly back through the door.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!” I strategically yelled and pounded my head against the closed door.

My plans worked perfectly. The crazed human routine struck fear into his heart. I could see it in his eyes; he knew he had met his master. He fled like a coward for the safety of the forest. It’s a good thing too, because I’d have given him such a whipping...

January 24, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/24/2006 02:31:00 PM
No, not THAT wedding feast... It was 1976, and Ron & Shirley Behome had just been married and they celebrated with a wedding feast. The only place big enough to feed a crowd so large was in the cafeteria of the local Jr. High school.

Ron was our Youth With A Mission (YWAM) team leader. His friends flew in from all around the world to speak to the hungry masses. To this 19 yr old, 2nd year YWAM’er, it was all VERY COOL.

As a part of the local YWAM team, we waited on tables; making sure everything was perfect for our beloved friends. It was a huge success. The long list of speakers stirred our hearts, igniting a fire to reach the far ends of the world for Jesus.

Then, just before the bride and groom were to make their exit, Ron pulled me aside.

“Dave, I want you to take our special guests somewhere for an hour or so of fellowship time.”

My heart skyrocketed! He picked ME to entertain his friends! ...My knees began to shake; he picked ME to entertain his friends?

“S-sure Ron, leave it to me.”

Ok, I was only 19 so naturally I took them to the cheapest greasy spoon around. Hey, the Joe was only 50 cents and the refills were free. How could I go wrong? Everyone ordered tea, so who was I to be the odd man out? Besides, with enough cream and sugar, it was almost tasty.

I sat where I could watch the clock. We made it an hour and as long as I kept my yap shut, there was little chance of putting my foot in it. That’s when I noticed that I’d forgotten all about my tea. The sweet, milky brew sat untouched.

All night long, the conversations were on the advancement of the gospel around the world. Why did someone have to tell a joke just as I inhaled my cold cup of tea?

Tea sprayed out my nose like a fire hose. It happened so fast, but I watched it all in slow motion. My eyes took a Polaroid picture that haunts me to this day. Every face twisted in shock and horror as they fled to beyond the reach of my milky white spew.

Doctor Phil and thirty years of self-help tapes have finally enabled me to re-enter the world.

January 23, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/23/2006 02:29:00 PM

Yesterday, I watched the Seahawks/Panthers game with my Dad. Ole’ Dad and I have been watching and waiting since 1976. Man it felt good to get it done (FINALLY)..., well almost done. The real test will be in two weeks in Detroit.

Woohoo, it’s the Super Bowl baby!

Pittsburg, you’re going down.

Go Hawks!

Anyway, for you non-football fans that journeyed here for something that actually lifts up the inner-man (or woman); Check out Rulan’s blog entry HERE.

January 20, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/20/2006 11:59:00 PM
“Do you want to play?”

It was the first day of kindergarten and I was staring into the most beautiful eyes in the world. All the other girls looked like boys compared to this queen of all supermodels and she was talking to me!

I was speechless. I stood there in a trance. My jaw hung open like a broken mailbox. She smiled, knowing well the power her feminine wiles held over me. She owned me and I didn’t care.

After school, we walked hand in hand until we reached my home. Still unable to talk, I pointed at my front door.

“Is this your home?” she asked.

Somehow, I managed a nod. She led me up the porch steps and knocked on the door. My mother opened, and my heart sank. How could I tell her that she no longer held first place in my heart?

“What is your boy’s name? Does he talk? Can he come to my house and play?”

“His name is David and usually he never shuts up. Yes, he can play.”

For weeks, we spent our every moment together. She dressed me up in skirts and made me wear makeup. We played with dolls, skipped rope and I ate mud pies. I didn’t care because I was her slave.

Then one day, the sky came crashing down.

“GO AWAY, YOU ICKY BOY !” She said.

I was devastated. It’s no wonder my life spiraled downward into a blur of self destructive behaviors like drinking, knife fighting, driving recklessly and tearing the warning labels off of mattresses. I became a mercenary, volunteering for every suicide mission. Life didn’t matter anymore.

And then I started first grade...
January 19, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/19/2006 08:58:00 AM
Back when I worked for Youth For Christ, we had the best chaplain ever. Bill Clark had been a missionary since WW2. He went home to be with the Lord a few years ago, but many of his words still echo in my mind.

Old Bill was a notorious prankster with a curmudgeonly sense of humor. In fact, “Curmudgeon” was one of his nicknames. It was in his honor that I took that name as my online persona. I think he’d have been proud.

“Save me a good seat in Heaven big guy; I miss you!”

In WW2, old Bill trained soldiers for the 10th Mountain Division. He used to claim that the genesis of the phrase “reaching the end of my rope” began there.

They would take the trainees to a tall cliff in the dead of night, blindfold them and have them repel down hundreds of feet to the safety of the ground below. However, the rope lacked several feet of making it all the way to the ground.

Can you imagine what it was like to put on a blindfold and slide down a rope off the side of a giant cliff? Then imagine their panic when they reached the “end of their rope”.

After a few seconds of terror, the instructor would tell them to “simply drop” the rest of the way. It required a tremendous amount of trust to simply let go and fall the last few feet. It was a lesson none of them would ever forget.

Have you reached the end of your rope?

Can you hear Jesus saying “Let go”?

January 18, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/18/2006 12:11:00 PM
God is so good to me.

A special thanks to all of you who invested the considerable time required to read about my miracle. Double thanks to those of you who left comments, or sent me emails. I was deeply encouraged.

May the Lord bless you all
January 16, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/16/2006 02:16:00 PM
Two weeks passed, but Frank’s words still rocked me to the core.

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.” (John 9:3)

Frank read the scripture, but the Holy Spirit gave it life. The Lord was speaking directly to me. God had a greater purpose in all this, so my suffering would not be in vain.

The phone rang. It was Leona. “Dave, I want you to come to my church next Sunday night. There is going to be a healing service.”

“That’s great; maybe the Lord will heal your kidneys.”

“Thirty years of dialysis is sure getting old. Wouldn’t it be great if we both were healed? Dave, I really want you to come. Do you know the directions?”

I laughed. “I used to be a member there, but that was a long time ago. Yeah, I’ll go; but you have to sit with me.”

It had been several years since I’d set foot inside Christian Life Center. Just hearing the words brought back the painful memories of losing my family to the cult. I should not have stopped going to church back then. If only I could find healing from the past.

“Lord, somehow reunite me with Pastor Jed before you bring me home.” I remembered praying.

I pushed my walker through the huge crowd until I found Leona. It was not long before the service began. After hours of testimonies of the healings he’d witnessed, the evangelist invited the sick to come forward.

The crowd stampeded, leaving Leona and me in the dust. The line was too much for me to endure. Leona sat with me until the crowd started to dwindle. Then someone started turning off the lights. It was over and I never even got a chance. It was so unfair.

“Dave, didn’t you get prayed for?” It was Jim M. A friend I’d not seen in years.

I tried to answer, but I was just too weary. The best I could manage was a whisper. Understanding my problem, he leaned in close. “No, I was too late.”

Jim called to a few men to come over to pray for me. After a few minutes prayer, the man called Jeff started telling me about all the “work” he “saw” God doing in my body. It shocked me because he didn’t know me from Adam and somehow he identified the exact areas of my illness.

“Do you feel any different?”

I shook my head no.

I knew God could have healed me if He wanted. Evidently, He wasn’t going to take this illness from me. I went home and crawled into bed, accepting my fate.

When I awoke in the morning, I knew something was different. It was a miracle! Everything worked. I ran, jumped and did everything I couldn’t do the day before. Oh, there was still a slight limp; but I could deal with that!

I guess you know the first person I called. “Leona, guess what... God healed me while I slept. It’s strange though, because it is not complete... its like I was healed 90%. It’s weird, but God must have a reason for it. Leona, I have my life back!”

“David, that is so awesome! Hey, isn’t your healing just like the Pa character in your books? Wasn’t he also healed 90%? Dave, I think it was a prophecy of your healing!”

I was stunned. She was right; it was exactly as the Holy Spirit told me to write it.

. . . . . . .

For the next several months, I fought the Lord’s prompting to visit a church that was only two miles from my house. Many years earlier, someone with ties to that church hurt me badly. Then one Sunday I didn’t have enough gas to drive to Port Orchard, so finally I gave in.

I couldn’t believe it. It was Pastor Jed!

It shamed me that my holding onto unforgiveness kept me from the healing I’d longed for. I was not only restored to my old pastor, but he also asked me to work with the youth!

God is so good!

January 13, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/13/2006 11:20:00 AM
The crowd rushed forward to get their books signed. I brought two hard-cover’s myself, which made navigating the walker tricky. I was prone to tipping on a good day and I didn’t want to be the guy that did a face plant right into Frank Peretti.

By the time I made it to the front of the line, I felt like I’d run a marathon. Frank’s compassionate eyes met mine and I knew he didn’t recognize me. I didn’t mind though, in fifteen years I’d changed a lot.

I gathered all my strength, but I only managed a whisper. “Hi Frank, do you remember me? It’s David Meigs.” Ok, I don’t remember exactly what was said, but it was something close to it.

His eyes were mingled recognition and sorrow. “David Meigs! It’s been so long. What’s happened to you?”

“They think it’s the same thing Dudley Moore had, but nobody knows for sure.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And I could tell he meant it.

“Frank, I need to ask your forgiveness for letting you and everyone down back then.”

“What? It’s ok, don’t worry about it Dave. God forgave that a long time ago. Let it go.”

He wrapped his arms around me and said a prayer. It felt so good. A ton of unresolved garbage lifted off my shoulders. Then I told him that I’d written a book. His face was a Polaroid of the “sure kid” look he gave me back in 76.

I explained to him about the day when my confusion lifted and God told me to write the book. I told him how I wrote it for my children, and what I hoped it would mean to them.

Then I asked his forgiveness again for not writing the book all those years ago. How writing just never felt right, like it would have been disloyal after all he did for me. As it left my lips, I realized how silly it was. Another weight lifted off my shoulders.

We said our farewells and I turned to leave. Forget the walker; I was dancing on the clouds. I didn’t even care that I did a face plant before getting out the door. Nothing was going to steal my joy.

Little did I know that in three weeks I could throw away my walker forever!

On Monday, we’ll wrap it up with my healing.

January 12, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/12/2006 11:59:00 AM
Today’s post is a little long. I apologize. It was very difficult for me to write. I’m sure you will understand.

At 23 years of age, my outwardly perfect life was a sham. Accepting Jesus washed my sins away, but it did not erase a lifetime of dysfunction. Inwardly, I was an insecure, self-loathing mess. For now, this is all the explanation I can offer for what follows.

I awoke from a nightmare to find that I’d lost my wife and two infant children to a cult. I was given a choice; submit to the cult leader or I’d never see my family again. This, I could not do.

In the beginning, the cult appeared to be a “Christian community” populated by dozens of seemingly perfect families. Among them were bank executives and powerful business leaders. Their connections were deep and far reaching. To de-mask the monster, I needed proof.

To my surprise, my old friends David S. and Frank P. were already aware that something was wrong with this seemingly idyllic, supposedly Christian community. They knew of ex-members and when they told their stories, it was worse than I thought.

When the lid was blown off, life became a media frenzy. There were newspaper and television interviews. The whole Northwest gasped in horror, and yet at every turn the courts ruled in the cult’s favor.

Unfortunately, the divorce separated me from the support of my church. I was terrified for the safety of my children and fear ruled my every thought. My only lifeline was the merciful faces of David S., Frank P. and the handful of others that populated the seats of the courtroom behind me.

It ended with a heavy handed victory for the cult. God’s people and I were left in a devastated heap. How could God sit back and not crush them for their deeds? What would happen to my children?

Months later, there was one more court battle. However, this time it was the cult that lost. Before dropping me off at the ferry, Frank P. took me to his house where a new box of books sat under his dining room table. At home, I opened the cover of “This Present Darkness” and I knew the prophecy was fulfilled.

Still, after all I’d been through, it took a couple more years before I hit bottom. Then one night in a nightmare, I saw my little son abducted, mutilated and buried in a swamp.

I awoke crying out “Please Lord, don’t let this happen!”

Again, I heard the voice of God “And if it does, will you follow me?”

In an instant, I understood; things could always get worse. It was my fears that kept me from following God.

“Yes Lord, even if this happens, I will follow you!”

Over the next year, Pastor Joe S. helped to restore my walk with God, one step at a time. The dysfunction that ruled my life was dealt with. The favor of God rested heavily upon me. Soon I was recruited into fulltime ministry, helping others to be delivered as I had been.

Come back tomorrow, only two segments left.

January 11, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/11/2006 11:02:00 AM
Life is stranger than fiction. My miracle is proof of that. Things, people, or life altering events occur and we miss the significance until years later. Only then do we finally see the hand of God.

I was nineteen and needed to save money for YWAM, so I found a factory job for the summer. I made friends with a young married couple that really loved the Lord. On several occasions, we met for lunch and prayer in the back of my van.

He was a delightful character with a strong “absent-minded-professor” quality. He’d expound on the latest concept in science or other such worthy topic. As he spoke, his wife would watch him with such love. It really moved me, because I came from a dysfunctional family and I’d never seen such love and devotion.

He wanted to be a writer and to make movies. I mentioned that I planned to write a book too, but it sounded shrill. He gave me a kind of “sure kid” nod, and I felt like a dope. At the end of the summer, we had a special time of prayer and the Holy Spirit came on me to prophesy over him.

“Thus says the Lord; Arise shine, the glory of the Lord is upon you. You shall be the first to be successful at writing Christian books and you shall make movies...”

It was the seventies and almost nobody read Christian fiction, let alone made movies. I’d really stuck my neck out this time. They went off to college and I went to Germany to attend a School of Evangelism in YWAM.
I was sure I’d never see Frank and Barb Peretti again, but I did. It was seven years later and it was the darkest trial of my life.

More tomorrow, almost finished.

January 10, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/10/2006 11:20:00 AM
My right hand was curled up like a claw, but I did my best. From the outside, I still looked a mess; but on the inside, I soared with eagles. Never had I experienced such an outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

Out of compassion for my family, I felt God was helping me to write a book to leave for my children. All kids naturally want to emulate the hero. In reading this book, they would learn important lessons like self sacrifice, forgiveness, abstinence and so much more.

I molded my children’s personalities into “their characters”. My Caleb had a fascination with falcons, so I gave “Caleb” a falcon named “Mrs. Tibit”. “Joshua” was the tall, silent warrior and “Rochelle” radiated a tender sweetness and had a gift for song.

My oldest son David was stationed at Fort Bragg, which gave me the location for the story. The plot was simple; the “Blade brothers” would go to Jamaica and face an evil voodoo cult in league with a devil worshiping pirate. After returning home victorious, “Pa” would die, which is the ultimate healing for us all.

However, God had different plans. This time it was a still small voice that said, “Heal “Pa” most of the way”.

“But Lord, “Pa needs to die to teach the kids about death!” I argued.

The Lord was firm, so I reluctantly agreed. Then other elements were added, such as a 12 ft tall Nephilim (giant), and a strong theme on the evils of slavery. Many other times, the Lord had me change something here, or add something there.

I finished the book in less than four months, and a second one followed just three months later. I was well into the third book when my wife brought me an article she had cut from the Paper. It was an advertisement. Frank Peretti was coming to town!

“Thank you Lord, now I can make things right with my brother!”

January 09, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/09/2006 09:30:00 AM
I stared straight ahead, my mind muddled in a heavy fog. Drool soaked my beard at the corners of my mouth.
Suddenly the fog lifted and I heard the voice of the Lord: “It is time to write the book!”

Before going on, I need to clarify a few things.
1.) For starters, what I heard was more than the small still voice that speaks to our heart of hearts. I’d compare it to when young Samuel was summoned in the middle of the night. It was the kind of voice you answer back aloud.

2.) Yes, God commanded me to “write the book”, but it’s not a new holy epistle containing previously unknown truths. The Holy Spirit guided me as I wrote, yet the book’s not perfect; in fact, it is far from it. I think every Christian writer understands what it is to write with the interaction of the Holy Spirit.

Ok, now that we’ve settled two of the theological sticky points, let’s get on with the miracle.
When God told me “It is time to write the book”, I knew He spoke of the story that had been living inside me since the seventies. Now I could finish my work on earth.

God lifted my confusion, but the rest of my illness sped on like a runaway freight train. I had no delusions that this book would ever be published. No, to the contrary, I felt that this was God’s great love allowing me to write a story to leave to my children. I marveled that He planned it all those years ago.

My whole life prepared me for this task. The 70’s was a time of Angelic visitations, visions and prophecy. The 80’s brought personal failure, overcoming dysfunction, extreme spiritual warfare and restoration. In the 90’s I learned precious keys to unlocking strongholds in the lives of teens and families.

I planned to center the conflict on the death of the “Pa” Character. In this way, my kids would learn about death and the ultimate healing it brings. Little did I know that the book was to be a prophecy of things to come...

More tomorrow.

January 05, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/05/2006 03:26:00 PM
Last week, my friend and critique partner felt led of the Lord to highlight my WIP and my healing on her blog. I’ve received so many questions that I thought it would be better to talk about it here.

I admit that I’ve been reluctant to share the story because it seems like anytime someone says “God told me” or “an Angel appeared out of thin air” and people start doubting the speaker’s sanity or integrity.

I wish my story were so tame. Just know that everything I tell you will be the truth, albeit the condensed version. Ok, you’ve been fair-warned. My story begins with a miracle.

I retired from Youth For Christ at the end of 1999 with a rapidly progressive neurological disease. I developed a Parkinson’s tremor, double vision, weakness, difficulty walking, frequent falls and my voice became a whisper. The worst part of all was the Alzheimer’s like confusion that grew worse daily.

It was March, 2003. I sat staring at nothing, my mind in a foggy muddle. Small puddles of drool soaked my beard at the corners of my mouth. My left hand shook to a rhythm that seemed to erupt from the center of my being.

Miraculously, my confusion lifted and I heard the voice of the Lord:

“It is time to write the book.”

Come back Monday for part 2.
January 03, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/03/2006 06:01:00 PM
Sometimes God says no. One of my all-time best friends is hurting in a bad way. He is suffering from a brutal illness that will one day claim his life. He’s too young and so are his children. We’ve all prayed, but he only gets better around the edges.

2 Corinthians 12:8-9 NIV
“Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness..."

I’ve lived in the fire myself and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Just wait and God will turn this stinker into something glorious. He did it for me and He will for you too.

Hang in there buddy, God’s grace will carry you through.
January 02, 2006
posted by David Meigs at 1/02/2006 12:44:00 PM
Summer vacation after kindergarten was tuff. The backyard swing-set seemed lame compared to the mega playground at school. Lucky for me it was only a few blocks away, so I went there often.

One day there were a couple second grade girls jumping rope. My heart began thumping under their hypnotic gaze so naturally I pretended that I had a secret transmitter in my wrist watch. Secret agents are so cool.

Visibly impressed, they pointed and giggled; obviously hoping I’d join them. After a careful look around for bad-guys, I briefed them on my top secret mission and I even showed them the secret handshake. I had them wrapped around my finger and it felt good. Ah, older women.

My wife won’t let me play spy anymore, but we will keep that a secret. When I came to Christ, I became part of a family way cooler than any spy-ring. We even have something better than a secret handshake to identify ourselves as Christians. We treat each other with love.

John 13:34-35

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."