Rhonda,

Someone did that to me once.  I was an adult but for some of us, it is a little unnerving.  I am glad you have those good memories of your other grandfather as he spent time with you.  One of my favorite memories is spending an afternoon alone with my grandfather before he died a few years later.  He was a great Christian Man.  I was a teenager at the time.

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> On Apr 8, 2017, at 7:43 PM, Rhonda Partain <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> 
> Well-meaning people can indeed do a  lot of harm. When my Papa died my aunt wanted to be sure I had a chance to say goodbye. She insisted on guiding me to the casket against my will. She put my hand onto his cold hand. I knew he was dead, for years the last memory I had of my Papa was the cold hand. I made sure I didn't go near the casket when my other grandfather died, I remember him swinging with me on the front porch swing, turning the crank in an ice-cream freezer, helping me learn  the differences between coins. Even when my Mom died I only went to see the flowers on the casket, I touched her necklace and told Ben that she wasn't there. I remember thinking the same thing about my Papa, if he was in a better place, why couldn't I go too?
> It's hard to know what to say when someone dies, I just cry with those who love them, I listen, 
> Rhonda
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: The Electronic Church [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of Phil Scovell
> Sent: Saturday, April 8, 2017 7:07 PM
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: It happened Again
> 
> 	Tapping the screen of my iPhone to disconnect my call, ,  I stepped into the other half of my office, and I  sat down at my computer keyboard.  I had just finished conversing with a lady who was interested in learning more about prayer and specifically about prayer for inner healing.  I had suggested some articles on the topic found on my website and I decided I better make sure I had informed her correctly as to the information’s location on my site.  Finding the material, I decided to read it.  As I did, it happened again.
> 
> 	It was many years ago when my father died.  I was in the 6th grade the day I came home from school and learned he had died that day, changed my life in ways I would not understand for 50 years.
> 
> 	Oddly enough, I have many good memories of those last three weeks my dad was in the hospital.  School was the same and I   played with friends and studied as any other student.  The heaviness of my father’s impending death, on the other hand, intensified within  our  family during the remaining days of his life.  My two older sisters were in college, one in Saint Louis in nursing school and the other in Omaha, Nebraska at a Bible college I later would attend myself one day.  I began to notice the worry on my mom’s face and her conversations with close family friends began to change to that of negativity and fear.  I still played, worked on my model cars, roamed in the apple orchard behind our house, climbed trees, and rhode my bicycle.
> 
> 	I remember my little sister and I playing in the front yard one evening as my mom talked with a man my father had led to Christ.  Bob and dad car pooled, along with two other men, and they were all Christians.  Their 45 minute drive to work ever day was filled with talks about the Bible, fishing, flying in Bob’s airplane, the Bible, cars, home repairs, church, the Bible, and, well, you get the picture; the Bible, for these Christian men, was the focus of their lives.  Bob told us the last day  they had all ridden together, they talked about Heaven all the way to work.
> 
> 	As Ruth and I chased each other around the front yard, jumping atop a tree stomp on the side of the yard and leaping high into the air, only to land and circle the yard to do it again, I heard my mom say, “Willie just isn’t going to make it, Bob.”
> 
> 	Bob said, “Yes, he will make it, Noreen.  Don’t talk like that.  Willie is going to make it.”
> 
> 	As I ran by the talking adults, I tossed my feelings into their conversation and said, “Yes, he is going to live.”  What else was there to say?  I could not comprehend death and living without my dad but days later, I would find out the hard way.
> 
> 	Standing on the top floor of the church we attended with a couple of my friends from church, we stared at all the parked cars.  Hundreds of vehicles lined up in rows on the huge gravel parking lot.  I remember thinking how many friends my dad must have had with that many people coming to the funeral.  Later, when I saw how the thousand seat auditorium was filled, it reaffirmed just how many friends knew and loved my dad.  relatives came and sat in the family rows of seats, some I hadn't seen for a long time, but many, I personally knew, my dad had  led to Christ over the years.
> 
> 	Although many parts of those days were sharp and very specific, others were vague and diaphanous.  For example, 	I well remember receiving a great deal of free spiritual encouragement and advice that, at the time, I had no idea how to handle so I just let it bounce off.  Years later, I found out how easily such good intentioned advice, and  encouragement, could be so harmful to a grown man.
> 
> 	Most of such information was, in all fairness, well intentioned.  In short, I knew they were Christians just trying to  console  a grieving little boy’s heart.  Yet, some of what was said, hurt more than helped.  For example, “Well, Philip.  Your dad is in a better place,” she sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her embroidered hanky.”
> 
> 	My thought?  “Well, if he is in a better place, that’s where I want to be.  I want to be with my dad.”
>  Can any one spell suicide here?   The Enemy is patient and never in a hurry so years  into the future, he would pile on demonically based lies  from these spoken words of comfort.
> 	
> “Son, your dad is in Heaven now and some day we will all be together again.”
> 
> 	My thought?  “Why can’t we all be together right now?”
> 
> 	The one I remember the most was the man that said, “Phil.  Your dad is in Heaven now and since you are the only boy in the family, you are the man of the family now, and you will have to be the head of  the home.”
> 
> 	My thought?  "I am just a little boy.  I don’t know how to be a man or how to take my dad’s place as the head of our home."  This painful thought lasted over 50 years until the Lord recently healed me from the pain that free Christian advice caused.   Consider the lies the Enemy could build upon using this statement for the bases  of an overwhelming, and impossible, word of so-called encouragement.  I was far too young to process the immensity of the suffocating darkness  which suddenly surrounded me.
> 
> I began explaining this inner healing experience by  stating   it happened again and then I explained where the woundedness occurred.  Now I'll explain what happened again.
> 
> 	As I was reading the teaching of healing prayer on my website, something pricked the skin of my right forearm.  It felt like someone just touched me with a pin as if to get my immediate attention.  Then it happened again; I was healed.  My thoughts flashed and the pain I had felt for more than 50 years linked to another thought.  I said, “That’s it,” and I stopped reading to think about what had just happened.
> 
> 	I know this sounds silly, and when I used to say it, or think it in my mind, I knew it was silly, too, but the thought was, “I am afraid God is going to ask me to do something I cannot do.”  I had no idea what this might be but underneath that statement was undiscovered fear.  Whenever it came to mind, and it did so hundreds of times over the years, I just considered it dumb and silly and shoved it out of my mind.  Here’s a little tip.  If something  keeps surfacing in your thoughts, something needs healing or revelatory insight and the Holy Spirit is trying to tell you something very important.  Even if unpainful, the repetitiveness of a memory event is often an indication of something the Holy Spirit wants you to know.
> 
> 	It was that single second of time that a healing took place by connecting two things.  First, the idea planted in my thinking,, and reenforced by a lying spirit over many years, that I now, at age 11, was the head of my home and compounded by the thought of being a man.  Both concepts at that age  were impossible to comprehend.  Nevertheless, the thought was implanted.  Secondly, the idea that God was going to ask me to do something I could not do was a morphed lie, that is, similar to the first but changed just enough to keep the original lie  hidden by the Enemy without my understanding or  recognition.  As I said, the prick on my right forearm, instantly connected  the two unholy concepts, and the immediate acknowledgement I spoke, “That’s it,” bloomed into simultaneous healing of truth.  The prick on my arm was  to get my attention that the Holy Spirit was going to reveal truth and healing to me so I would witness the synergy of the spiritual event about to happen.  The revelation of the truth confirmed the healing itself.
> 
> 	About this time, someone is saying, “Hum.  Sounds interesting but what’s the big deal.  It doesn’t sound too serious to me.  Besides, I don’t have any problems like that in my thoughts or emotions; I’m fine just the way I am..  A determination of our awareness and closeness to God is to consider the question: Wen was the last time you received an  answer to a prayer?
> 
> Taking a seat in  the large auditorium, I heard the pastor announce he was starting a series on prayer.  My interest popped up.  That was something I surely needed to know a whole lot more about.  The pastor began by admitting that he frankly could not put his finger on the last time he experienced an answer to one of his prayers.  He admitted his guilt, he said, with some trepidation but also confirmed he was going to do whatever it took to change this unfruitful part of his life.  He went on to describe a very dramatic event in his life many years ago when God answered a prayer instantly for him and he continued to confirm he was pushing for more of that as the pastor of the church.  In short, I learned little about prayer in the  series because my pastor did not know any more than I did about how to get prayers answered.  Does it really matter?  Not unless you  care about    the blessings God wants to bestow upon you.  The Lord wants to fill you to overflowing with spiritual intimacy.  If you do not care about that, I can see why you would think the way you do about the subject.
> 
> What blocks prayers are those hidden lies  in our lives.  Remove those lies, experience revelatory healing, and answers to prayer will be apart of your every day Christian life  through the Holy Spirit.
> 
> 
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