Hey, sister Brat, that's greatly wonderful.  Praise the Lord.

earlier, April Stahl, wrote:
>As usual, Brother Phil, I truly enjoyed this 
>e-mail.  There is definitely a lesson 
>there.  Guess what!  I am officially cancer 
>free!  Praise God!  I have to go every six weeks 
>to flush the I.V. port, and I have to have 
>check-upss every three months, but God still has 
>work here for me to do. Praise God from whom all blessings flow
>!
>
>
>----- Original Message ----- From: "Phil Scovell" <[log in to unmask]>
>To: <[log in to unmask]>
>Sent: Thursday, January 21, 2010 12:51 AM
>Subject: You Can Do Better
>
>
>>I'm pretty certain I posted this awhile back 
>>but I hadn't finished the article.  So, if you 
>>read this following testimony, and think you 
>>have read it before, you likely have.  However, 
>>I have added a lot to it so I thought some might like reading it again.
>>
>>Phil.
>>
>>
>>You Can Do Better Than That
>>
>>
>>By Phil Scovell
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>I was just 20 years of age.  My wife and I had 
>>only lived in Denver for a couple of
>>months.  That year was an extra harsh Colorado 
>>winter for the Denver area. At that time,
>>in 1972, the snowfall in Denver was 61 inches 
>>for the seasonal average. That first winter
>>we lived here, the weather service recorded 
>>over 100 inches of snowfall and a dozen
>>major storms of 12 inches or more.  A couple of 
>>blizzards were over 20 inches.  Over the
>>years, fortunately, this type of weather has 
>>dropped off to the point that the annual
>>Denver snowfall total is down to about 30 
>>inches.  The high country, as we call it here, in
>>the higher elevations of the Rocky Mountains, 
>>still continues averaging 10 to 30 percent
>>above normal seasonal snowfall nearly every year.
>>
>>I remember these wintry details for many reasons but largely because I found
>>myself out in this cold freezing, snowy, icy 
>>weather during November trying to learn my
>>way downtown using my white cane.  At that 
>>time, we lived in west Denver and where I
>>ended up working was about a 45 minute bus ride 
>>with an exchange of buses in between
>>and that alone, the exchange, I mean, lasted 
>>several minutes just by itself. I had already
>>trained considerably with the use of the white 
>>cane for mobility but Denver was much
>>larger, with more traffic, and streets that 
>>were less than the average squares created by
>>corridors north and south, east and west, which 
>>provided for more convenient right and
>>left turns.  I was more accustomed to traveling 
>>this way from living previously in Omaha,
>>Nebraska.
>>
>>I also quickly learned that places of 
>>intersections in the Denver downtown area, at
>>that time, had four-way stops.  That is, all 
>>four lights turned read at one time and people
>>could cross diagonally to any corner they wished.  This made crossing such an
>>intersection, especially since I learned the 
>>hard way the first time, quite difficult.  As a
>>white cane traveler, you listen to the people 
>>in front of you, or around you, and judge
>>direction by where they are going.  Logically, 
>>when the light turns, you cross just like
>>everyone else around you.  Not so fast, Quick 
>>Draw!  I stepped out, the first time I
>>learned otherwise, following a man in front of 
>>me when he suddenly swerve and makes a
>>hard left angle turn.  I thought, "Where in the 
>>Sam Hill is that guy going," and fortunately
>>I continued straight across the wide street.  A 
>>tip about this type of crossing is to listen for
>>the waiting traffic to the side.  Cars are 
>>pulled up, engines idling, waiting for the lights to
>>change.  This is, by the way, what kept me from 
>>following the man who curved away
>>from a straight walk through the painted white 
>>lines of the crosswalk. Later that day, I
>>mentioned this event to a blind friend and he 
>>explained to me what was happening and
>>indicated streets where this was permitted.
>>
>>Since I had a considerable bus ride, bus 
>>transfer, and several blocks to walk to
>>work even after leaving the bus, a mobility 
>>instructor was appointed to come to my house
>>during evening hours to teach me where to find 
>>the bus stops, going and coming from,
>>work, and to learn the route in-between.  This 
>>was extra training just to get to work and it
>>lasted two weeks.
>>
>>During this particular November, it was 
>>bitterly cold, snowy, and the streets,
>>parking lots, and sidewalks all had a great 
>>deal of ice and snow incrustation.  After being
>>outdoors for two and three hours, we both, my 
>>mobility instructor, and myself, were
>>getting more than a little cold.  Such focus 
>>mobility in bad weather, for a blind person,
>>creates, to say the least, extra stress.  You 
>>are listening at all times to your surroundings
>>such as barking dogs, are they coming this way, 
>>cars backing out of residential
>>driveways, not seeing you, and nearly running 
>>you down, sidewalks at intersections with
>>cut down curbs level which assist in helping 
>>you suddenly find yourself in the middle of
>>the traffic without realizing it until several 
>>car horns begin honking louder than a flock of
>>geese flying south for the winter, and you 
>>scurry back to where you judge the sidewalk is
>>and pray you don't get run down before you fine 
>>the damn street corner. Of course, no
>>respectable Born Again Christian, spiritual man 
>>of God such as I, would never think, let
>>alone say, such a thing, but it is the way of 
>>things traveling blind and hoping your white
>>cane isn't mistaken for a broom handle or mop 
>>handle before a driver squashes you, or
>>knocks you into next week, which has, by the 
>>way, happened to a couple of friends of
>>mine; one died and the other survived.  So we 
>>ain't talking about a warm Sunday
>>afternoon stroll in the park type of relaxation 
>>sort of thing, when White cane traveling is
>>via busy metropolitan streets, if you get my 
>>meaning.  Additionally, in such cold weather,
>>wearing earmuffs, a stocking hat pulled down 
>>over your ears, or even just a common old
>>hat can change the acoustical characteristics 
>>of the sounds around you and coming to
>>your frozen ears.  If you think feeling around 
>>with a white stick with your eyes shut is
>>dangerous, just let your hearing freeze up and 
>>find out now you can't even ear where you
>>are going.
>>
>>Another unique experience for a blind person is 
>>crossing a street with a situation
>>of a parking lot, or in my case, a gas station 
>>on the opposite corner. Since there are few,
>>if any at all, reference points in which to 
>>allow you safe passage traversing such a place,
>>it is common, if you aren't staying focused, 
>>especially to the traffic noise on one side of
>>you, to veer off a straight line into the 
>>parking lot or gas station.  In such cases of drift,
>>you end up walking into a parked car gassing 
>>up, or you'll be introduced, somewhat
>>embarrassingly, to a gas pump with which you 
>>have collided, , or perhaps you'll miss
>>everything and walk right into the front of the 
>>gas station building; breaking out a large
>>display window with your head.  Then there is 
>>the likelihood of being run down by a car
>>pulling into, or out of, the gas station just 
>>as you are crossing the entrance or exit
>>driveways.  This was one of those cases.  Due 
>>to the extreme cold, frustration of learning
>>a difficult mobility route, I drifted off to my 
>>left.  I was tired and cold and sick of trying
>>to remember all the left and right turns to 
>>reach the appointed destination. In fact, I
>>occasionally, to this very day, still have 
>>nightmares that harkens back to those days of
>>watching your step, sort of speak, or be killed 
>>on the way to work.  The mobility
>>instructor, who was following at a considerable 
>>distance, began yelling, no, screaming at
>>me, "Think, Phil!  Think!"  There was something 
>>to the tone of his voice that angered me.
>>In my ears, his words sounded more like, "You 
>>idiot.  Can't you do better than that?"
>>
>>Many decades later, I was seated in a friend's office as we talked about my
>>daughter being a meth addict, the stress of 
>>closing a church I was pastoring, and a dozen
>>other things that had finally gotten me 
>>down.  I was depressed, hardly sleeping, hearing
>>voices, and was suicidal.  A ministry a man was 
>>doing is quite similar to what I do as an
>>intercessor and praying with people, allowed me 
>>to make an appointment with him.  The
>>anxiety and panic attacks I was having at this 
>>point in my life were more than I could
>>handle at the time.  During our conversation 
>>and time of prayer, my friend said, "Phil,
>>you know what to do; you just aren't doing 
>>it."  It was true, of course, that I knew what to
>>do, at least, based upon what he had taught me 
>>and that I had learned from other Bible
>>teachers and preachers.  The problem occurred 
>>when I found myself doing all the things I
>>had been taught by such people but it wasn't 
>>working for me.  "How could the Bible," to
>>which I was obedient, "not be working for 
>>me?"  This was pushing the anxiety level off
>>the meter's scale.  I honestly did not know what to do.
>>
>>Recently, at a low point, these two memories 
>>collided in my thoughts.  I could not
>>identify the emotions associated with either of 
>>these two memories which had caused me
>>to instantly conduct my standard automatic 
>>(SAD), Search and Destroy mission.  I felt,
>>based upon the Lord displaying both memories at 
>>the same time, they had to have a
>>common theme, commonality, or buried lie, but 
>>how and where?  I could not see the
>>connection but I knew it was there.
>>
>>Several weeks passed and I had, of course, prayed about these two memories
>>repeatedly and seemed to make little, if any, 
>>headway in understanding the memories and
>>their relationship.  One day, as I sat at my 
>>computer, not typing but just finishing a task, I
>>felt the Holy Spirit say, "So how did you feel 
>>in both these memories?" Since I was
>>finished with that which I had been working, I 
>>stood up and walked about 6 feet to a
>>secondary room where I have a reclining 
>>rockingchair I sit in when praying with people
>>on the phone.  Sitting down, I allowed my 
>>thoughts to instantly focus on these two
>>memories and straight up, whatever first came 
>>to my mind, answered the Holy Spirit's
>>question.  I named things such as rejection, a 
>>feeling of defeatism, and other related
>>emotional feelings but somehow, none of what I 
>>felt really touched the core of the
>>woundedness these two very vivid memories 
>>brought to my mind and emotions. Then, I
>>heard it within the flow of my thoughts, "You 
>>can do better than that." It was actually a
>>more menacing and threatening thought in my 
>>mind along the lines of, "You can't do
>>anything right.  You're blind.  Blind people 
>>can't do anything right.  And you call yourself
>>a Christian."  These fiery darts of outside 
>>thoughts attempted, and accomplished,
>>penetration into my mental flow of thinking 
>>patterns, (I.E. my mind).  . Recognizing
>>what it was, demonic oppression with a truck 
>>load of lies they were dumping on me, I
>>took every thought captive, praying against it, 
>>and authoritatively cut off their ability to
>>continue trying to gain a spiritual handhold in 
>>my thoughts and mind.  The two
>>memories, although different, were 
>>linked.  Thus, the Christian and the secular crossover
>>perpetrated a dual mental attack.
>>
>>In such wounded memories, there is also the 
>>truth that is needed to bring healing
>>to the circumstances and the damaged emotions 
>>associated with the pain one feels.  I was
>>stumped as to what the truth might be and 
>>turned the memories over and over in my mind
>>trying to probe for the truth that Only the 
>>Lord can give.  It eventually dawned on me that
>>the lie the Enemy was attempting to hide was, 
>>"You can do better than that." The
>>problem was, this type of a lie contains 
>>truth.  We all can most certainly do better.  We all
>>can achieve personally.  We all can succeed in 
>>any area of life we desire. In short, there
>>is no limit to what we can do but even great 
>>achievers in life often suffer from depression
>>and overwhelming thoughts beyond their 
>>control.  So what's the truth? Usually doing
>>better means based upon someone else's 
>>standard, that is, "Do it like me, and as well as I
>>am doing it, and you will not only be ok, 
>>you'll be like me."  WRONG!  I want to be like
>>Jesus and I am, so buzz off.  This attitude, 
>>though normally unspoken, creates an endless
>>and impossible level of accomplishment because, 
>>quite simply, everyone is uniquely
>>created differently.  So, in short, in an 
>>earthly sense, there is no human standard of
>>success or failure.  In this case, Jesus 
>>answered my question concerning the truth and He
>>said, "I have already done all that needs to be 
>>done.  I accept you as you are.  You don't
>>have to become a better person to impress 
>>me.  I am already impressed with you just as
>>you are now, and this is because you are just like me.  I have made it so."
>>
>>If you try and improve upon this concept, you will discover you can never do
>>enough; you can never achieve adequately, to 
>>the point, that you are fulfilled or satisfied
>>with yourself.  You will be that little cute 
>>hamster in his wheel; running, and running, and
>>running, and spinning, and spinning, and 
>>spinning, yet without ever reaching your goal
>>and satisfaction that you have done well in the 
>>sight of the Lord.  You will, in short, spin
>>yourself into what I call, (CQG), Christian 
>>quasi genericism simply put, performance
>>based Christianity.
>>
>>Aren't you sick of living like all your 
>>Christian friends?  Haven't you, by now,
>>exhausted about everything the pastor has told 
>>you to do to become a well behaved good
>>little Christian?  Haven't you read one too 
>>many Christian books telling you how to live a
>>successful, productive, Godly Christian 
>>life?  Hasn't legalism, in all it various shapes and
>>ugly forms of phony spirituality, gotten the 
>>best of you by now?  When will you ever
>>achieve the best you can be and how will you 
>>know you have spiritually arrived?  My
>>answer is simple.  Whatever I can't do, Jesus 
>>already has done.  Why should I reinvent
>>the theological wheel, whipping up a 
>>denomination in the process, or in order to maintain
>>a good strong hold, that is, control, just have 
>>one big megachurch with thousands of
>>Sunday-go-to-meetin' folk and thousands more on 
>>television that send me money.  Boy,
>>ain't we having church now!
>>
>>Recently, a good Christian buddy of mine tried 
>>reaching me three times over the
>>weekend.  I don't know where I was but it 
>>wasn't where I could hear my office phone any
>>of those three times.  He did record each time, 
>>a voice mail message, leaving strong
>>words of encouragement and instruction.  How did he know I needed to hear his
>>encouragement?  He knows how to pray and how to 
>>hear the Holy Spirit. It's easy;
>>anybody can do it who learns how to pray.  In 
>>his direct words of challenge, it included
>>mild rebuke for trying too hard and forgetting 
>>to let the Lord do all the heavy lifting, plus
>>confirmation of his personal love and concern 
>>for me as friends and Christian brothers in
>>the Lord.  He also told me a story you also 
>>need to here, so I'm going to tell it to you.  It
>>is more than worth retelling.
>>
>>A good old boy is walking down a dusty old road 
>>in the summers heat with a 100
>>pound see bag toss over his shoulder.  During 
>>his long walk into town, an old beat up
>>pickup, with bald tires and rusting paint, 
>>slowed and stopped next to him. "Say, son," he
>>called out the open window which handle had 
>>busted off three years before, hop in the
>>back and I'll give you a ride right on in to 
>>town.  I'd let you ride up front but got my wife
>>and two young-uns already up front, if-en, that 
>>is, you don't mind ridin' yonder in back."
>>
>>"Naw, sir," the young boy replied.  "I'm much obliged and I surely thank yaw
>>kindly."
>>
>>The boy, with his heavy feed sack, climbs into 
>>the back and sits down with his
>>seed sack still hanging off his right shoulder.
>>
>>As they drove on in toward town, the driver of 
>>the pickup looks back and notices
>>the boy is still trying to hang on to that 
>>heavy feed sack tossed over his back.  Since the
>>back winda of the truck had been blowed clean 
>>out accidentally by the farmer's shotgun
>>discharging last fall when he had been hunting 
>>rabbits and squirrels, blowing the winda to
>>Kingdom Come, nobody hurt, praise be to the 
>>Lord, the farmer said, "Say, son.  I knowed
>>this here truck ain't much but she's strong and 
>>big enough to carry that feed sack you be
>>trying to carry.  Drop the load, boy, and enjoy the ride."
>>
>>Do you see it?  Even as Christians, and I don't care if you have a radio or
>>television show, have written 50 books on how 
>>to be a magnificent specimen of Jesus
>>Himself, are a millionaire and give a 20 dollar 
>>bill each week in the offering at church, or
>>even if you've been saved and healed from 
>>disease, bowlleggedness, bald headedness, an
>>athlete's foot, if you are still dragging that 
>>heavy sack around when Jesus has done
>>already done all the heavy lifting, you best be 
>>getting your head examined real soon like.
>>And if you cannot understand plain English, you 
>>ain't never gonna be free in Jesus.  If
>>you need help finding out how to get rid of 
>>that heavy old sack, you all give me a ring.
>>Yaw hear?  Better yet, get Jesus on the horn and talk it through with Him.
>>
>>It Sounds Like God To Me
>>WWW.SafePlaceFellowship.com
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>>
>
>
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John
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