Category Archives: Healing

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 6)

I had rented a beautiful little cabin in the mountains and really enjoyed the solitude it afforded. One night I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and turned on the television. I flipped through the channels until I found a Christian program. It was The 700 Club. Pat Robertson was talking about abortion. The topic made me a little uneasy, but I didn’t change the station.

That night The 700 Club aired a video called The Silent Scream. This pro-life documentary was narrated by Dr. Bernard Nathanson, a former abortionist, and included live film footage of a suction abortion. For the first time I saw pictures of exactly what I had done. I was horrified, but I could not tear my eyes away from the screen.

“We are now looking at a sector scan of a real-time ultrasound imaging of a twelve-week, unborn child,” Dr. Nathanson said in his professorial voice.2Then he pointed out the child’s head and hand, the ribs and the spine. Twelve weeks. I had been a good sixteen weeks for one of my abortions, I remembered.

“The heart is beating at the rate of approximately 140 beats a minute. And we can see the child moving rather serenely in the uterus.”3The black-and-white images were grainy, but there was no mistaking the perfectly shaped fetus. I began to feel sick to my stomach. Ultrasound was not available when I had my abortions. If I had seen pictures like this . . .

“You will note as the suction tip, which is now over here, moves towards the child, the child will rear away from it and undergo much more violent and much more agitated movements . . . The child has now moved back to the profile view and the suction tip is flashing across the screen. The child’s mouth is now open . . . but this suction tip which you can see moving violently back and forth on the bottom of the screen is the lethal instrument which will ultimately tear apart and destroy the child.”

When I saw that baby, with its mouth open in a silent scream, pushing against the walls of its mother’s womb, my world completely shattered. I fell out of my chair and onto the hardwood floor, crying hysterically. The full fury of my sin, which I had stuffed so deep inside of me, erupted in such searing pain that I didn’t know if I could live through it—wasn’t sure I wanted to live through it. I lay on the floor and sobbed until I heaved.

And that’s when I heard the voice.

“Mommy, everything’s okay. We love you.”

That’s all. Just a few words uttered in a little boy’s voice. A voice so sweet and pure that it melted my heart.

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 5)

When I could bear my thoughts no longer, I felt the comforting presence of the Holy Spirit wrap around me like a soft cashmere shawl. I watched the waves racing each other to the shore, and suddenly I saw before me an ocean of women— millions of women, stretching all the way to the horizon— and I was speaking to them about abortion. The “still, small voice” of God’s Spirit spoke to my mind in that moment: One day I will place you on a platform where you will speak to these women.

“But I murdered my children,” I whispered. “I gave them up for a man who ruined my life.” I choked back a wail.

Tell the women that. I will give you the platform.

I stared at the ocean. The multitudes of women were gone. I could no longer see their faces.

“Mommy, we love you.” The lilting voice drifted over the waves. My heart skipped a beat.

“We’re with Jesus. And you’ll be with us one day, Mommy. But now you must go and do what the Master says.”

I knew that voice was telling me that I had to fulfill my calling— whatever it was that God had put me on this earth to do. I also knew that the child’s voice was not a figment of my imagination, even though I had listened to a little girl’s voice saying something similar on the radio just moments before. This was a little boy’s voice . . . and it was not the first time I had heard it.

That voice was familiar because I had heard it about a year earlier, before I had ever walked the aisle at church and committed my life to Christ. It was during that “beginning of the end” time when I was living in Flagstaff, not long after I had that final “interlude” with my ex-husband, Jesse.

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 4)

Sunglasses could not hide the tears streaming down my face, and I was glad the beach was not crowded that day. I walked toward the water, oblivious to the warm ocean breeze or the strident call of the seagulls. My shoulders slumped under the weight of the reality that now settled on me. Dear God, what have I done? My feet were leaden, my legs would no longer hold me. I sank to my knees in the hot sand, completely devastated. I murdered my children! Continue reading →

A Little Boy’s Voice (Pt. 3)

Babies? I had steeled myself not to think of them that way. Planned Parenthood had said they were blobs of tissue. I knew better, of course—at least on some level. But that’s the only way I could live with myself, to think of them as “problem pregnancies,” the flotsam and jetsam of an untimely conception, not as babies.

Heaven? Until that moment, I had vaguely thought of them as formless blobs out there in the universe somewhere. Were they really babies, really in heaven, as Melissa had just said? Continue reading →

Bearing One Another’s Burdens

It’s a sad truth that there are many, many women sitting in our pews today that have been through the trauma of abortion and still carry the emotional and spiritual scars around with them.  It has troubled me that the reason they don’t talk about it and receive ministry for it, is that: No. 1 they are ashamed, and No. 2 they are afraid they will be judged by other church people.

This shouldn’t be, but it is.

When I told my story about my past abortions for the first time at Phoenix First Assembly of God, I was afraid too.  I thought that perhaps others would judge me and not want anything to do with me because of my past.  But, I couldn’t have been more wrong.  I didn’t find judgment that day when I gave my testimony, I found forgiveness and acceptance.

On a show recently, Jim said that we ought to bear one another’s burdens.  This comes from Galations 6:2  “Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”  NLT

Nowhere have I heard this scripture explained better than in the commentary by Barnes:

“The law of Christ would not allow us to reproach the offender, or to taunt him, or to rejoice in his fall. We should help him to take up his load of infirmities, and sustain him by our counsels, our exhortations, and our prayers. Christians, conscious of their infirmities, have a right to the sympathy and the prayers of their brethren. They should not be cast off to a cold and heartless world; a world rejoicing over their fall, and ready to brand them as hypocrites. They should be pressed to the warm bosom of brotherly kindness; and prayer should be made to ascend without ceasing around an erring and a fallen brother. Is this the case in regard to all who bear the Christian name?”

If you need ministry because of past abortions, it’s time to get your healing.  You then, can help others who need healing and restoration.

Church, it’s time to rally around those who have been wounded and scarred by abortion.  It’s time to recognize that this is a widespread problem and those inside the Church are just as likely to have had an abortion as those outside.

It’s time to fulfill the law of Christ by helping our sisters (and brothers) bear this huge burden.

When Lori’s House is finished, we will minister to post-abortive women (and men).  Please keep us in your prayers.

Love,

Lori

A Message for Those Who Were Hurt in the Church

I grew up in church.  I went to services several times a week, always attended special campmeetings and revivals, and went to all the Summer youth camps.  I could have been the poster child for Sunday School. 

I don’t remember exactly when it started, but I can recall beginning to really take notice of how people in the church behaved.  I’m talking about people of all ages, some young, some old.  And I have to tell you that what I saw was not pretty.  In fact, some of it was downright revolting.  I became disillusioned with all the hypocrisy I saw.  And the worst part about it was that I felt judged by some of these people!  It really hurt to feel judged by people I couldn’t respect.

Well, as a lot of teenagers do, I used that knowledge as an excuse to rebel.  I rebelled against all types of authority; my parents, school, and especially the church.  I wanted nothing to do with ‘those people’.  I thought “if this is the way the church acts, then I don’t want to be a part of it.”  I lived off that philosophy and it served me well in my rebellious life.  I used it for an excuse to turn away from God too.  Now I could do whatever I chose and didn’t have to consider the way I was raised… so I thought. 

Years and years went by with my life going from bad to worse.  Most of you know my story –  many years of drugs, physical abuse, abortion, and infidelity brought me to a place of emptiness like I’ve never known. 

From time to time during the rebellious years, I had heard the Lord’s voice saying “Lori, I’m here, I love you, Come home!”  It was true that if you train up a child in the way they should go, when they are older they will not depart from it!

So, it was on Easter Sunday, 1989 that I decided it was time to go home. But, going back to Jesus, for me, meant going back to church, and I have to tell you that I was scared to death to go back to church.  I remembered those people from long ago that I considered hypocrites and I was terrified that I would be rejected. 

But, guess what?  Not even one person said one negative thing to me about my past.  They embraced me and received me with open arms!  I had nothing but love showered on me from my church, and I was back where I belonged!

Today, I feel like there are so many out there that are afraid to come back to Jesus because of negative experiences with people in the church.  They want Jesus, but don’t trust ‘church people’.  Don’t be afraid.  Jesus wants you to come home today.  People may let you down from time to time, but Jesus never will.  Don’t let what people may do or not do keep you from God!  Give him you heart and come home.  Forgive those who hurt you and come home!

Say this prayer with me today:

Lord, I know you are standing at the door knocking.  I am going to open that door to my heart today so that you can come in.  I’m sorry that I walked away and that I’ve been gone so long, but I miss you Jesus, I really do.  I’m sorry for not living according to your Word.  Please forgive me. I love you, Lord, and I want you in my heart.  Clean me up, Lord.  Help me to get anything out of me that is not like You.  Show me how to love again – the way You loved me and never left me.  I want to come home to you today.

Aging and Your Health

Jim and I have found an awful lot of humor lately in the natural aging process.  I guess it’s better that way – it sure beats crying!  But seriously, since we are both baby boomers, we are coming into a harsh reality of the facts of life regarding our age.  Jim and I focus a lot on health issues on our show because we know that taking care of your health is the most important thing you can do and I’ll tell you why.

Your quality of life diminishes when you are not healthy, and your spiritual life suffers as well.  When you don’t have your health, it’s hard to pray, it’s hard to read your Bible, and it’s hard to focus on anything spiritual at all!  When you are sick, all your strength goes to the misery of your illness.

You not only feel better when you take care of yourself, you look better too, which makes the aging process a lot more tolerable!

Jim is seeing his Father when he looks in the mirror lately and I have to say that I am seeing a lot more of my Mother, who is still very beautiful in her maturity.  As we age, we can make the most of our physical bodies and there is much we can do with diet and exercise to affect their well-being.

You know, it’s really very true that when you are old, you can’t just rely on charm and good looks anymore!  You better have something inside!

We have learned so much from the health experts that we have on the show and we want you to know how, in many cases, you can heal yourself by eating right and exercising!

This coming week, February 9, 10, 11, we are having three very knowledgeable health experts on the show.  If you can join us for live streaming, we would love to have you!  We’ll show you how to take care of yourself and make healthy choices so that you can age gracefully and make the most of your life!

Becoming a Hope Craftswoman (Pt. 2)

About eighty women attended the meeting that Friday afternoon.  It was a treat to have my “girls” there—not only Kelli, Morgan, and Nicks, but Nina Atuatasi, my Samoan “daughter,” who showed up just before the meeting.  Nina, a gifted musician, had arrived in the Los Angeles area a few hours earlier and surprised me by driving over for the meeting.  Before I preached, she sang two songs and ushered in the presence of the Holy Spirit.

“I don’t trust people who haven’t been through something,” I told the ladies.  “And I have a feeling that most of you have been through adversity.  You’ve known some deep pain and heartache.”  Many women responded vocally.  As I began recounting my personal story, I also preached about making choices—how bad choices get us into trouble, but “God choices” get us out.

In the back of my mind, I could hear my father—who sounded just like Archie Bunker on the old All in the Family TV show—saying, “You’re a bad picker, Little Girl.”  Dad was so right about that.  My teenage years were full of bad choices, with disastrous and far –reaching consequences.

I told the women at the Dream Center how Jesse and I had decided we would get married in the summer, after I graduated.  My last year in high school, I was in the DECA (Distributive Education Clubs of America) program, so I only went to class for half a day, and then I went to my job.  One afternoon in late April, Jesse picked me up after work, and he had an engagement ring for me. Standing there in from t of Diamond’s department store, he put a diamond on my finger.

My mother was devastated when I told her I was going to marry Jesse.  “Lori, please wait,” she begged me. “You’re too young.”

“I’m older than you were,” I snapped.

“That’s true—and it’s why I know firsthand how hard it is.”

She looked pained.  Mom had been just sixteen when Dad , who was eighteen, pressured her to get married.

“Besides, you can’t stop me.  I’ll be eighteen at the end of August, and then I won’t need your permission.”  I was stubborn and determined.  “So either you sign the papers for me to get married, or we’ll go to another state and elope.”

Mom kept trying to talk sense into me, but I wouldn’t listen.  She knew that Jesse hated his mother, and that was a huge warning sign for her.  “He doesn’t have a good family relationship,” she said, “and he won’t be good to you.” I turned a deaf ear to every reason why the marriage wouldn’t work.

(to be continued)

Becoming a Hope Craftswoman – Part 1
Becoming a Hope Craftswoman – Part 3

Becoming a Hope Craftswoman (Pt. 1)

I opened my Bible to 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, which I had often prayed over in my ministry: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

“Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “please help me to show my wounds today, so that you may use them as a source of healing.”

It is never pleasant to relive the past when I share my testimony.  But I do it because God uses it to comfort others.  A hurting woman knows I understand her pain and suffering when she hears that I have been down the same road.  And when she receives healing from God, she will extend that same comfort to yet others so that the circle of wounded healers widens.

I’ll never forget the first time I shared a short testimony before a group of women at Phoenix First in the fall of 1990.  I had panicked at the thought of standing before the pastors’ wives and the matriarchs of the church and telling them even the briefest highlights of my sordid past.  I had been a Christian for only about eighteen months, and I still carried a dump truck size load of shame about my past sins, even though I knew God had forgiven me and completely changed my life—in fact, he had called me into full-time ministry.

They’re going to shun me, I thought.  They’ll talk about me, and I’ll never be able to hold my head high.  I’ll have to leave the church.  They think I’m the perfect little Christian, but when they find out. . .

On and on the accusing voice assaulted my mind.  My stomach was so tied in knots; I didn’t think I could go through with it.  I nearly backed out at the last minute, but I managed to battle my fear and honor my commitment to give a five-minute testimony.

I was petrified as I stepped behind the pulpit—the spot usually occupied by Tommy Barnett, one of the most respected pastors in America.  What an incredible honor.  Some one thousand women were in the audience, about six or seven hundred from the inner city and three or four hundred ladies from Phoenix First.  The lights were dimmed, so I couldn’t see their faces.  But I definitely heard them respond when I took the microphone and said, “From the time I was seventeen to the time I was twenty-one, I had five abortions.”  The loud gasps throughout the audience paralyzed me for a moment, but I finished my story and then sat down to listen to the other testimonies.  Well, now they know, I thought.  I wondered if anybody would even speak to me, or if they would just avoid me.

One of the first people I saw afterward was Marja Barnett, my pastor’s wife.  Phoenix Fist Assembly is a huge church, and as I recall, she had never spoken to me before, except perhaps to say hello.  This beautiful, gracious woman came over to me, kissed me on the cheek, and then clasped my hands.  “Oh, Lori, you poor thing,” she said in her lilting Swedish accent. “I never know you have such a horrible life—I can’t believe what you go through.  I’m so happy you are in our church.  I love you so much!”

I don’t remember exactly what she said after that.  All I know is that Marja’s love and acceptance flowed over my soul that day like a healing balm.  Now, eight years later, she had invited me to the Dream Center, and my heart’s desire was to extend the same encouragement to those who needed it.

(to be continued)

Becoming a Hope Craftswoman – Part 2
Becoming a Hope Craftswoman – Part 3