Linked Memories Unlinked

God's Order Of Healing Woundedness


By Phil Scovell






     I was only about 10 years of age.  Danny and I, my best
friend as a child, were walking down the street together.  There
was no sidewalk but the street wasn't a busy one anyway, and we
were always careful to watch and listen for oncoming traffic.

     Then we saw it.  A green piece of paper, which looked
suspiciously like a dollar bill, or maybe something even more
valuable, although a dollar bill was monetarily enormous to a
couple of boys in 1962, and the race was on.  Danny wasn't
athletic in any way, shape or form.  We never played baseball, as
I did with other kids in the neighborhood, because Danny couldn't
hit the ball no matter how slowly it was thrown to him.  We never
played football because Danny couldn't throw, or catch, to save
his life.  He always missed the basket when playing basketball so
we never did that either, and He couldn't run, and when he did, he
ran like a girl.  (Forgive me ladies but that's how we thought and
talked back then.  I know better now).  Since I was on the school
track team and the second fastest in the elementary school we
attended, I beat Danny by a country mile.  It was a 5 dollar bill! 
I was rich!  Danny was, as always, broke.

     This memory, for my entire life, has flashed into my mind,
hundreds and hundreds of times, and for no particular reason which
I could determine until recently.

     Shortly after spinal stenosis surgery on my neck, no little
thing in and of itself, I was replying to an email of a friend who
was describing to me how he had been praying and the Lord not only
healed him but the first memory led him to a second that he hadn't
even realized was linked to the first.  Upon relating this memory
that you have just read to my friend, I admitted to him that I had
not yet discerned where healing was needed in the memory of Danny
and the money.  I did admit that I felt sad that I had never
shared the money with my best friend; thinking that was the
problem.  After all, that feeling alone would generate guilt and
guilt is a wonderful, not to mention extremely fertile ground for
a demon to generate a solid foothold in the life of a Christian. 
"Oh, it doesn't work that way," you say?  "Demons can't influence
Born Again Believers in such a manner?"  With that sort of
thinking, I wouldn't want to be in your Christian shoes but let me
continue and see if I might change your mind; at least to the
point you might think about it a little.

     Since I felt sadness, and more specifically, mild guilt
concerning not sharing with my friend when I should have, I did
the simple thing required; I prayed 1 John 1:9, "If we confess
our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to
cleanse us from all unrighteousness."  Thank God for the
simplicity of the Gospel and the application of Biblical truth to
everyday life experiences.  So, I was clear and clean.  right? 
Wrong.  Something still felt wrong in this reoccurring memory. 
So, as I told my friend the story, as an illustration, and pressed
the send keys, I stopped and just sat in my office chair behind my
desk and focused on the memory event once again.  This time, I did
something different.

     Considering the thought that guilt was present in the memory
event, regardless of how low level it may have been, there was
likely a demonic presence behind it.  It certainly wasn't Jesus,
and since I had cleared things up by confessing it as sin, it
couldn't have been the Lord or the Holy Spirit, there was only one
possibility left.  So I prayed a very specific prayer, which I
won't repeat here at this time since it can be found elsewhere on
my website, and sent the demon away who was behind the diabolical
plot.  Yes, we have such authority, (See Colossians 2:10). 
Knowing he was now gone, I knew I would be able to hear the voice
of the Lord clearly so I asked Him what I now needed to see as He
saw it.  In short, I was asking the Lord the nature of the lie
that remained which the demon was keeping hidden by distracting me
with the guilt I felt about Danny.  I clearly heard the Lord in my
thoughts saying, "The lie is related to your father.  The demon
lied and said your father should have suggested you share with
Danny.  The demon was saying it was your dad's fault."  I almost
laughed when I felt the voice of the Lord.  I rarely hear words
in my mind but feel impressions which I in turn put it into my own
words.  I knew this was the truth and I know the demon had lied
and tried covering up the truth with guilt.  I was free.  Now I
understood.  I still wish, of course, that I had been smart enough
to have willingly shared with my best friend but that is a
commonly felt emotion.  A normal person would feel such concern
for his friend under similar circumstances.  Thus, the sadness was
a normal human response due to my friendship with Danny.

     "Why is this so important?" I can hear someone asking about
this time.  That's the easiest aspect of all of this to overlook. 
You see, this whole thing had nothing to do with Danny, the 5
dollar bill, me, or my dad; it was about God.  "God?"  You heard
me the first time; it is about God; God the Father.  If a lying
spirit can confuse us into thinking God isn't really our Father,
that he acts and thinks like an earthly father, then we will have
a distorted picture of the true nature and identity of our
Heavenly Father.  Quick on the heals of this concept of God, comes
the true nature and identity of the True Lord Jesus Christ.  Most
of you reading this testimony have, at the least, an indistinct,
and at the worst, obscure picture of God as your Father.  The rest
of us have a spiritually cracked and fractured idea of who the
True Lord Jesus Christ really is.  Most want to believe God the
Father, and God the Son, are the meanest, harshest, cruelest
father figures, who love to beat their children just to hear them
cry.  If you don't think so, just listen to the average sermon
preached on Hebrews 12:5-11 on the chastisement of the Believer
and then tell me I'm wrong.  By the way, I've written on this
passage of Scripture and explained the true meaning so if you need
to, read it before you call to tell me how wrong I am.  Then come
and sit with me in prayer sessions and listen to how most people
speak about their father and why they confess they are afraid of
God.

     I was sitting out on my deck swing one summer afternoon, and
thinking of nothing in particular, when a voice, very close to my
face, said, "Are you afraid of me?"  A few years ago, I would have
started shaking, my chest would have flushed as if having a heart
attack, and I would have been confessing the name of Jesus over
and over again in order to drive the demon I thought was
whispering into my ear off the planet.  This time, however, I
recognized it as the voice of the Lord.  It wasn't, by the way,
His voice speaking to me in my thoughts, not my ear, that
surprised me; it was my own answer which came immediately and
without hesitation.  I said, "No.  I'm not afraid of you," and I
knew it was true.  God didn't and doesn't, frighten me any longer. 
Oh, don't misunderstand me.  I know God's greatness and I know the
power and authority of His son; Jesus Christ.  It no longer,
however, scares me.  In fact, we are buddies now because I have
experienced their power and authority hundreds of times in my life
just as a simple Christian without a degree, not even an honorary
degree, although I've been tempted to spend $29.95 for a PhD off
the internet just for fun, to my name.  I wonder what you think
about God the Father and the True Lord Jesus Christ?  The
Friendliest and kindness person I know is Jesus Christ.  The most
loving and caring person I know is God the Father.  How would you
identify them?  Through love and freedom of spirit and humor or
through your unresolved woundedness and pain?  I already know the
answer but let me relate to you the second memory event which is
directly linked to the first.

     A memory which has, for some reason, bothered me for most of
my life occurred when I was about 8 or 10 years of age.  This
would have been in the early sixties.

     We attended a large, 1,000 member, independent Baptist church
in Des Moines, Iowa where I was born and raised.  Once a year, or
so, an all black downtown black church, came to the white suburbs
and used our baptistery since they had none of their own.  The
black pastor was a wonderful preacher but the first time he
baptize some of his people, he almost drowned them due to lack of
experience.  I didn't think he was doing all that poorly but I
heard a few snickers around the large auditorium as we watched
him baptize.  I must admit, he got much better as time went on and
his church grew and he brought more and more to be water baptized. 
There was little doubt he was a great man of God in my book.

     In my later ears as a student, I attended a Baptist college
about 10 miles from the church I used to attend.  The black
pastor was a frequent guest speaker in our daily chapel services
and we all loved and enjoyed his fiery delivery, theological
wisdom, doctrinal knowledge, and spiritual insight.

     As a boy attending the large Baptist church, it was no
surprise to me when my father invited the black pastor and his
wife, along with several other white people, from the church, to
come to our house for fellowship following an evening service. 
This was often the case around our house.  In some respect, I was
a little puzzled.  I had been taught to be careful what you said
around "colored people," that was the ()PC) politically correct
term used back then when referring to half way respected blacks,
because if they happened to be mean, or criminal in nature, they
might pull out a knife and stab you.  So, I grew up thinking all
black people carried knives and might be a little dangerous.  I
didn't have these same feelings about the black pastor.  After
all, he was a Born Again Christian, my dad liked him, and was even
inviting him over to our house.  Cool!  I sort of felt proud about
the whole thing.  Don't get me wrong.  My dad and the black
preacher never did pal around together, playing golf or going
fishing together, but my dad admired the man, his Christian
testimony, and he thought nothing about his color when it came to
having him over to our house for after evening service
fellowship.  As I said, several white people were also invited so
our long driveway, and out in front on the street, had several
cars parked around the house that night.

     In my day, children were seen and not heard.  An extension
to this rule was children were not seen at all and especially when
company was around.  I wasn't told such but I figured it out on my
own.  So, knowing our little one bedroom house, and finished off
addict with two additional bedrooms, no heat, and no air
conditioning, I lived a rough life as you can see, I figured,
since I enjoyed being outdoors at night, seeing lights, watching
the moon and stars, and just the enjoyment of doing something
different, that this time I would spend my time outside while
company was at the house.

     As I stood watching the people coming to our home, I saw the
black preacher, and his wife, as well as other whites my father
had invited for the evening fellowship at our home, going into the
house.  This particular memory was frozen in my thoughts for
decades.  I examined it many times to see if something was wrong,
that is, was there some type of lie associated with this innocent
event because something always felt slightly wrong but what? 
Nothing ever came to mind until a few months ago.

     As the memory once again flashed into my mind, I examined it
and as I watched the scene unfold, realizing it was dark already
and the only light was coming from the porch, I felt, as much as
hearing the voice in my thoughts, saying, "Your dad didn't want
the neighbors to know that he was allowing blacks to come to his
house.  That's why he waited till nightfall."  I was somewhat
shocked by this revelation.  Yes, my dad occasionally told jokes
relating to blacks.  It was commonly done at that time in my white
neighborhood.  Yes, as I afore mentioned, I was literally taught
to watch what I said around "colored" people because they might
stab me with their knife if I said something wrong in their
presence.  Yes, that is racism.  I never, even as a child, felt
comfortable with all this for some reason.  So, when I felt the
impression in my mind that my father deliberately invited this
black preacher to our home after it was dark outside, it didn't
feel exactly right.  Based upon my upbringing, on the other hand,
it had a fragment of truth to the suggestion.  That should have
tipped me off immediately but it didn't.  It didn't until I was
healed in the memory concerning the event with my friend Danny and
the 5 dollar bill.

     If you will go back and read the story about Danny and the 5
dollar bill again, you will clearly see that guilt, as faint as it
might have been, was masked by personal sorrow that I didn't share
with my friend when I should have done so.  You will also notice
that the true lie was not revealed until the guilt was confessed
as sin to the Lord and the demon behind the lie was removed.  No,
I saw no demon, but when there is a lie, there is a demonic
presence always associated with it.  So, from practical
experience, I knew the lying spirit had to be in that memory
event.  That's why I prayed and sent him away.  Once he was gone,
the Lord's voice impressed upon me the part the demon was hiding
from my understanding when the Lord said:  ""The lie is related to
your father.  The demon lied and said your father should have
suggested you share with Danny.  The demon was saying it was your
dad's fault."

     This lie had a direct link to the second memory, which made
no more sense to me than the first, nonetheless, I felt something
was wrong in both memories.  The lie in the second memory event
was similar to the first.  "It is your dad's fault.  He doesn't
like black people.  It is dark so that is why he invited these
people over."  Oddly enough, at first, as this memory flashed into
my mind, it truly felt as if those words were being spoken outside
of my mind but it seemed as if those words had always been there,
thus it had to be true, but it wasn't.  The lie was perpetrated by
being implanted at a later time in order for the enemy to gain a
handhold, and hence, the opportunity to advance his devious plan
to disstablize my relationship with the Lord.

     My point is this.  The key, in both memories, was a lying
accusation relating to my father.  If I had believe these two,
seemingly true identifications relating to my father, the Enemy
could have used the feelings it gave me about my father to advance
his lies by making them a stronghold against my spiritual concept
of the nature of God as my father.  He, the Enemy, cannot do that
now because he has been exposed.

     Furthermore, I want to make it clear that the two memories
were linked.  I tried, literally for years, to figure out what was
wrong with the second memory.  Until, that is, one day, the
thought entered my mind that indeed my father only invited a black
man to our house under the cover of darkness so neighbors could
not see we were inviting blacks into our white neighborhood.  Of
course, that idea is utterly stupid because the porch light
illuminated the entire front yard and the black man and his wife,
parked on the street, walked across the length of the entire yard
as they made their way to the front door and were entirely in the
light the whole time.  You'd have to be blind not to have noticed
they were black.  The second memory could not be properly exposed
until the first memory, about the 5 dollar bill, was cleared of
the woundedness, (guilt), and ultimately of the lie it contained. 
Then the second memory instantly came to mind and when I saw it, I
immediately realized the similarity between the two and could pray
accordingly.

     Someone might point out about this time that these two
memories, even if what I have reported about them is true, are not
really all that important.  Perhaps you might say that but you'll
never find me minimizing the healing power of God.  He wanted
these memories healed for some reason and that reason, in my
opinion, was directly related to the Fatherhood of God.  If that
isn't mighty important to you, someone will have to explain what
is.  When Jesus is that close and that real that He wants to heal
childhood memories which contain destructive demonic lies, I'm
more than willing to receive his truth.  Besides, Jesus isn't
even remotely interested in your assessment of His eternal work.

     I have no doubt that those reading this testimony have
experienced, just by reading this, memory events that have popped
into your thinking.  You may even have experienced the wounded
emotions related to the memory event itself.  I pray with people
for the lies to be exposed.  I'm not a one-time, do it all in one
single session, type of person.  I am an intercessor and if you
are serious about scheduling prayer session until the lies that
are hindering you are exposed, and until you can learn the simple,
but automatic, techniques I used to pray continuously without ever
moving your lips, give me a call.


It Sounds Like God To Me.
www.SafePlaceFellowship.com