Dave Roberson’s Testimony: My Personal Journey to Revelation Knowledge

This is an excerpt from the book: The Walk of the Spirit—The Walk of Power by Dave Roberson. Published by permission…

I didn’t tap into God’s plan for my own life until I was an adult. There was no one in my life as a child who could teach me how to do it.

The Beginnings

My mother was what I call a “periodic alcoholic.” She died in her early fifties with cirrhosis of the liver.

My dad was a preacher’s kid, but I didn’t find that out until long after I had answered the call to the ministry as an adult. He was a preacher’s kid who went wild, spending most of his life in and out of jail. He came and went when I was little. When I was old enough to understand, Mom told me that she finally ran him off when I was almost two years old because he would beat me so badly.

I can remember hiding a toy airplane under my bed. Mom had saved her grocery pennies to buy it for me. When my dad came around, I had to hide it; I knew that much. He was always threatening me, saying things like, “I’m going to shoot you with a shotgun full of salt!” I can’t remember much about the beatings. As I grew up, I had many other temporary fathers who came and went. I didn’t know much about them either.

Sometimes the neighbors would come over to get me, my brother, and my two sisters. They would scrub our faces, load us in the car, and take us to church. It was obvious that we were neglected.

Our grandpa finally took us in. He made a workhorse out of me through my high school years — and when I say work, I mean work! By the time I entered the United States Navy, I was in top shape. I had never worked out or done one sit-up or push-up in my life, yet I won the arm wrestling championship on my ship! I was also asked to box for the Navy. All my physical strength and training came from Grandpa working me like an animal through my teenage years.

Grandpa was from the old “hard track” school of thought in raising children. I never knew very much about the love of God nor had anything to call my own. Nearly every chance Grandpa had, he told me, “You will never amount to anything, never! You are going to grow up to be no good just like your old man Roberson.”

When I was sixteen years old, a friend of mine (who was also a preacher’s kid) convinced me to go to a Pentecostal church with him every weekend for the sole reason of meeting girls. After church, we would go out drinking.

Well, the pastor’s preaching didn’t bother my friend at all, but it started to get to me. One night I became so convicted that I went over to the pastor’s house after the service had ended.

I knocked on the pastor’s door. When he answered it, I told him, “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“That’s conviction,” the pastor replied. “What you need to do is accept Jesus Christ as your personal Savior.” So he told me to get down on my knees next to a chair, and then he led me in the sinner’s prayer.

I left the pastor’s house feeling light and happy, and the next time I was out with my friends, I refused to drink with them. However, no one from the church “went after me” to get me filled with the Holy Spirit or to help me grow in my spiritual walk. So my good intentions only lasted about two weeks, and then I returned to my partying lifestyle.

I quit high school and left home when I was seventeen, never to come back. That’s when I joined the Navy. Soon after I finished my term with the Navy, I came back to God at an ultra Holiness church. It was there that I met my future wife, Rosalie.

These Holiness people told me that my Heavenly Father was doing the same thing my natural father did to me — punishing me for making mistakes. They were teaching me legalism, but I didn’t understand that. I thought to myself, Well, I guess I lost one father like that and picked up another one!

The Sawmill Preacher

The first year after I got saved, I had trouble staying in church. But soon after marrying Rosalie, I was baptized in the Holy Ghost, and I never went back to my godless life again. I never wanted to go back.

A few years later, we moved to a little town in Oregon called LaPine, where the only church was a little Holiness church that was even more strict than the one we had left. There were no other churches or Christian meetings. I got a job in a sawmill and started preaching on the job!

Everyone around me at the sawmill was living in sin, but God strengthened me to stand in the faith. Hell threw everything it could at me to cause me to turn away from God. But because of the Lord’s upholding hand, I stood.

Once in a while a preacher would hold a revival in our area. When that happened, all seven men who pulled the chain with me at the sawmill would come with me to the revival because I had worked on them so hard, trying to persuade them to attend.

The Vision That Propelled Me Into Ministry

At thirty years of age, I still lived with the image that was built on the inside of me while growing up. I would never amount to anything. I deserved nothing but punishment.

I was born again, and I had such a strong hunger and thirst for God. I knew in my heart I was called to preach the Gospel. But I couldn’t see how He could or would ever use me. I was a Holiness boy, lost in legalism.

But I loved God with all my heart, and He had mercy on my soul. He gave me a vision that launched me into the full-time ministry. It wasn’t something I experienced because I ate too late at night; it was real.

I never will forget it. We had moved a couple of times and were living in a little town called Oakridge, where I had continued to work in the local sawmill. Early one morning I woke up in the Presence of God. I opened my eyes, expecting to see my familiar bedroom. Instead, I saw a big auditorium. There were several wheelchair cases on the platform. I was three rows back on the left.

An associate pastor was conducting the worship service. Something was electrifying about the meeting, and somehow I knew it was my meeting.

The associate pastor returned to the pulpit after the praise and worship ended and said, “Now our evangelist…” As he spoke, he looked right at me to respond. I had my Bible open — in fact, I had it open to Jude 20 and 21, the passage that would later launch our ministry!

But ye, beloved, building up yourselves on your most holy faith, praying in the Holy Ghost,

Keep yourselves in the love of God, looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life.

—Jude 20, 21

But as I started to stand up, the associate pastor turned and pointed to the stage curtain. A blond-haired woman came out onto the platform. It was obvious that she was full of God’s love, and the anointing — the power of the Holy Spirit — flowed out of her like honey. It was so thick and sweet, you could almost cut it! I sank back into my chair in utter disbelief. I knew it was supposed to be my meeting.

The woman took the microphone and ministered the grace of God beautifully. Then God’s power fell, and all the people got up out of their wheelchairs. The altar filled with people confessing Jesus as Savior. The whole service was full of power and anointing.

When it was all over, the rest of the crowd disappeared; it was just me and this woman in the auditorium. Then she looked directly at me and said, “I don’t know why God has given me this kind of ministry; one of you men must have failed.”

I came out of the vision shaking. I woke Rosalie and told her everything I had witnessed in the vision. I decided that I couldn’t live the way I had been living anymore — torn between my call to preach and my deep feelings of unworthiness. I was being beaten from the inside out.

I told my wife, “I have to answer the call to the ministry — sink, swim, or drown. If we eat beans, sleep under a tree, or dress the kids in gunny sacks, will you still go with me?”

Rosalie said yes. So together that morning, she and I decided that no matter what it took, we would press in to God. Two weeks later, I resigned my job to go full time into the ministry.

The Prayer Closet

Having quit my job at the lumber mill, I didn’t know what to do with my time. Then I thought of the little church Rosalie and I had started just a few months before. (Although I had started the church, I asked a minister from another town to come every week to preach. At that time, I still didn’t have the courage to preach myself.)

In the old bowling alley where we were holding services, I had recently partitioned off an eight-by-eight area that had once been a concession stand, making it into a tiny nursery. I decided that I would use that little area as my “prayer closet.” I figured somehow that if I prayed the same amount of hours that I normally worked, God would “pay” me by providing for our needs.

I had no idea how hard it would be to carry out my decision to pray eight hours a day. That first morning I went into the closet, closed the door, got down on my knees, and started to pray in English. “Oh, God, now I’m full time in the ministry. Oh, God, keep our cupboards full. Don’t let our children starve. Use me, God, please use me!” (I spent a lot of time begging God. I was just a Holiness boy who had learned almost nothing about faith yet.)

I prayed for everything I could think of. I prayed for all the missionaries around the world that I knew about. I even spent some time cursing the cockroaches in that closet, commanding them to die in Jesus’ Name! But despite my efforts, I ran out of things to pray about in just fifteen minutes.

So just to survive the long hours that stretched in front of me for which I had committed to pray, I switched to praying in tongues. I didn’t start praying in tongues because I knew it was a good thing to do. The truth is, I didn’t even know if it was scripturally legal! Some Holiness people had told me that I couldn’t pray in tongues anytime I wanted to. Then I had heard from others that it was okay to use tongues as a prayer language.

I wasn’t sure which belief was right. All I knew was that I had to stay in that closet because I had resigned my job. So I began to pray in tongues that first day in the closet just to kill the hours.

Finally, the ten o’clock mill whistle blew. It was coffee break time! I hurried down to the coffee shop, ate a few doughnuts, and ran back to my prayer closet. In my mind, I had to be in position for prayer again in fifteen minutes — the same time the mill workers started their work again.

I kept on praying in tongues. I prayed for what seemed to be several hours, but it wasn’t even noon yet!

Then the scream of the mill whistle brought me back to the reality of my friends’ daily schedule and the radical choice I had made for myself. It was lunch break for the workers at the mill, and the darkness of the closet seemed to close in on me.

My former fellow workers had spent the last four hours in the sunlight, cutting and shaping wood that would be shipped all over the world. At the sound of the whistle, everyone would take their lunch boxes out and sit on benches, ready to eat, relax, and tell jokes. I knew what the men were doing, but I wasn’t with them. Did I really believe God? Would this really work? I had to believe it would.

Memories of the Search for Answers

My mind drifted back to that late evening service at the Pentecostal church where I first listened with a mixture of apprehension and excitement to the revelation of the baptism in the Holy Spirit and the gift of tongues that accompanied the experience. Rosalie and I discussed what we had heard all the way home as our three young sons slept huddled together in the back seat of our Volkswagen bug.

Rosalie had received the baptism of the Holy Spirit in her late teens. I began to wonder if this experience could be my answer to a life of frustration and repeated repentance for sins I couldn’t seem to shake.

It seemed that for so many Christians, transformation occurred immediately after they were born again. Was this true, and if so, why did it seem so difficult for me to change? Could a prayer language prayed through me by the Holy Spirit be the answer I needed to cross over that invisible line and truly become an overcomer?

Soon afterward, I came home to Rosalie and the boys after a dismal evening of struggle that had resulted in spiritual and personal failure. The look of disappointment on Rosalie’s face was enough to drive out the lingering influence of the few drinks I had shared with the guys. A strong sense of conviction rose up on the inside of me. I was on the brink of settling into self- pity and despair.

Rosalie tucked the children into bed as I sat in the kitchen, my head hung in shame and remorse. Then she walked over to me and silently took my hands in hers, as if to say she was with me in this struggle.

From that night on, Rosalie and I began to pray together more often, and my desire to know more about the baptism in the Holy Spirit continued to grow. We talked often about this gift. I was so hungry to really know God, so hungry for the answers to my many questions.

By then I knew about Hebrews 11:6:

But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.

Could this praying in the Spirit be a part of diligently seeking God?

Now as I knelt in that closet praying in tongues, the answer to that question seemed all the more important. I returned from my world of memories, thinking, What am I doing in this little closet, when by all standards I should be putting in my eight hours at the local lumber mill? Was I crazy, or had I begun a true adventure into the deep waters of God?

‘Putting In My Time’ With God

The answers to these questions were still in the future as I began this first day in the prayer closet — putting my time in with God. My mind swirled with questions, doubts, and anxiety as I prayed in the Spirit. Could a man really “go deeper into God” on purpose — just because he wanted to?

Let me tell you, those hours in that closet were long! I would pray in tongues for what seemed like an hour and then look at my watch. “Oh, no, it’s only been five minutes!” So I’d start praying again.

The next few months found me reporting to my closet just as before I would have reported to the lumberyard. When the mill whistle signaled the start of each work day, I was always in position on my knees, ready to pray.

Every day the hours just dragged by, but I stayed with it. I memorized every discoloration on the carpet and the wall. I got to know that prayer closet so well that even today, I could still take a pencil and paper and draw it in minute detail. I felt like I was in prison.

From my closet, I could smell burning wood as the saws split the tall trees. I could picture my friends dipping into lunch pails full to the brim and sipping steaming cups of coffee.

One day I was having a particularly difficult time of it. Why had I quit my job to do this?

What did this supposedly supernatural language accomplish anyway?

My spirit man rose up and spoke the Word to my wavering emotions: “God is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him” (Heb. 11:6). Then through my mind flashed a continuous series of pictures of my seemingly endless failures. I found myself choking on the emotions that those memories brought up. “Oh God,” I cried, “let that word be true!” Gradually peace began to calm my troubled mind.

God had not told me to quit my job and pray in the Spirit for eight hours every day. It was a decision I had made from a place of desperation. I wanted more of God but wasn’t sure how to find it.

From reading the Word, I had learned that my prayer language was given for my edifica- tion and that I could pray out mysteries, but I didn’t have a grasp of what those truths really meant. Still, I was determined that if it was possible for me to edify myself by praying in tongues until my mind was able to receive divine mysteries, that was what I was going to do.

A Welcome Break

So I kept on praying, hour after slow hour, day after long day. About two months dragged by. Then a woman whom I had met at a Charismatic Bible study heard about what I was doing. She came over to the church one day and knocked on my closet door.

“Brother Roberson,” she called, “I hear you’ve been praying all these hours and days.” “Yes, Ma’am.”

“I want to know,” she said, “can you tell any difference?”

“Do you mean a difference in my walk with God or what?” I asked. “No, I just want to know, can you tell any difference?”

“As a matter of fact, I can,” I answered. “Would you mind sharing it?”

“Not at all,” I said. “My tongue is tired, my throat is dry, and my chin is weary.”

She nervously replied, “Excuse me, I have to go.” And that was the end of that conversation!

Another month dragged by. I had been locked up in that closet praying for three months.

Then the same woman came back and knocked on the closet door. “Brother Roberson,” she said, “you know the church I go to.” “Yes, Ma’am, I do,” I replied.

“You know they don’t believe in speaking in tongues.” “Yes, I know that.”

“Well, my church is holding a laywitness meeting this weekend where laypeople from several states gather together to tell the good things God has done for them. Would you like to come?”

I thought, You better believe I’d like to come! I would use any excuse to get out of this closet! I told the woman, “I’ll meet you there!”

So I ran home, changed my clothes, and hurried to the house where the people were holding a morning Bible study. I arrived late for the meeting, so I didn’t know that the elderly woman who was sitting next to me had walked in using a crutch, which someone had then put in a nearby corner. I had no idea the woman was lame in her leg.

I sat there, waiting for the speaker to begin his message. I was so excited. I had been locked up in a prayer closet for three months. Now I was not only with other people, but I was going to hear a real live message taught by a real live person! I could hardly wait.

Finally the man stood up to speak, holding a huge stack of notes. (If his notes had been a scroll, it could have been rolled out to the back of the house!) He hadn’t spoken very long before he had put a new meaning on not being filled with the Holy Ghost!

With elaborate language and a stiff, monotone voice, the man lectured about “Jesus, the great Celestial Go-Between,” “the troubled waters of mankind,” and “the Omnipotent G-a-w- d.” I sat there in my chair, thinking, What did I get myself into? This is terrible! I’d rather be back in my prayer closet!

God Shows Up Unexpectedly

My mind floated in and out of the meeting. I didn’t know what to do with myself. For excitement, I started to shake my coffee cup so I could watch the coffee rings ripple to the edge of the cup.

Out of sheer boredom, I looked over at this elderly lady next to me. I had no idea anything was going to happen. I felt no anointing. I felt nothing! But when I looked at this woman, suddenly I saw suspended between me and her what looked like an X-ray of someone’s hip socket. The socket had a dark substance all around the ball joint, extending three to four inches down the leg.

I almost dropped my cup in astonishment! I blinked, but the X-ray picture remained before my eyes. I looked around to see if anyone else could see what I was seeing. Apparently, no one could.

As I sat there looking at this X-ray, I started praying, Oh, God, oh, God — what is this? Do you want me to pray for this woman? What in the world do you want me to do? God remained absolutely silent.

(Later when I was sharing this testimony during a service, the Lord spoke to my spirit, saying, “Son, do you want to know why I didn’t speak to you that time — why I let you go on and disturb the service? Because if I wasn’t listening to that man teach, why should I make you listen?” That was a revelation in itself!)

So I leaned over to this elderly lady and said, “Ma’am, you have trouble with your hip!” She turned and studied me for a long moment.

All of a sudden the word “arthritis” just jumped out of my spirit. I blurted out, “It’s arthritis in your right hip!”

She studied me for another long moment and then said, “That’s what the doctor tells me, young man.”

I exclaimed, “Glory to God!”

“Well, I beg your pardon!” she said.

“Oh, I mean, God wants to heal you, Ma’am. May I pray for you?”

The elderly woman just kept studying me. Now, remember, this church didn’t believe in speaking with other tongues. So to the woman, my request meant that at some time in the course of my day, I would bow my head and remember her in prayer.

But that’s not what prayer meant to me. I was a bench-jumping, chair-leaping, loud-shouting Pentecostal! I believed the louder I shouted, the more power I generated!

Finally the elderly lady answered, “Yes, you may pray for me.”

As soon as she said that, I leapt out of my chair, knelt down in front of her, grabbed both of her ankles, and pulled them out toward me. (Meanwhile, that golden-tongued orator was still “orating”!) Then I looked down at her feet and thought, Oh, oh! One leg was six inches shorter than the other one!

Oh, no, this is horrible! I thought. I’ve never seen the kind of miracle this woman needs! I was too scared to watch, so I closed my eyes, shouted, “In the Name of Jesus…!” and started praying the strongest, hardest, most ultra-Holiness type of prayer I could think of.

Witnesses to the scene told me later that at the very first mention of that mighty Name, the woman’s shorter leg cracked and popped; then it suddenly grew out until it was even with the other leg!

The woman had been instantly, totally healed — but I didn’t know that! I still had my eyes closed, and I was still praying my strongest prayer. And in my zeal, I almost wrestled that lady off her chair and onto the floor before the others could get me to let go of her ankles!

But God didn’t need my help. He popped that leg out without me even realizing it! When I finally opened my eyes and saw the miracle, I was as shocked as everyone else!

About the time I started to pray for the woman, the man who was speaking grabbed his associate and whispered to him, “Go get that guy and break it up!” (I really don’t blame him; I was destroying his service with my loud praying!)

The associate started toward all the commotion and, according to those who witnessed the scene, reached us just in time to see the miracle. He was just about to grab me when he saw the woman’s short leg suddenly grow out six inches.

So instead of breaking up the disturbance, this man was struck dumb with amazement. He had never seen a miracle before. He didn’t even speak in tongues! When it came to the supernatural, this man didn’t believe in hardly anything. So when he saw the miracle, he was speechless. Talk about God’s timing!

Then the golden-tongued orator ended his message with the question, “What is the most outstanding sequence of events that could possibly be attributed to the God-factor in your life?” While everyone else was wondering what that meant, the associate answered the man’s question by pointing to the healed elderly woman and sputtering, “Over here!” The healing of this elderly woman was certainly the most outstanding sequence of events he had ever seen!

After the service, the speaker came over to the little elderly lady and tried to tell her, “Ma’am, God doesn’t perform miracles in this day and age.”

But the elderly woman replied, “You want to bet, Sonny? You want to bet?” Then she grabbed her crutch and started walking around the room. She swung that crutch back and forth, using it to hold people off while she showed them how well her healed hip was working.

After the house meeting, the congregation all attended a special banquet at the church. For some reason, they didn’t invite me. (I wonder why!) But God didn’t need me to be invited for His purposes to be fulfilled — the elderly lady went!

Before the people in charge could do anything, that little lady jumped up and gave her testimony at the banquet. After she finished, she shouted, “And what God did for me, He’ll do for you!” The place went crazy with excitement.

Later, a woman attending the banquet sought out the elderly lady. This woman had been in a car accident and was now unable to bend over. “Do you think God would heal me?” she asked.

The elderly lady replied, “I think He would. Let’s call that man who prayed for me.”

By that time, I had gone home, changed clothes, and was busy working in the yard. The phone rang; it was the elderly lady who had just received a miracle. She explained the other woman’s condition and asked if they could come over so I could pray for the woman.

I was about to say, “You can bring her and anyone else you can get your hands on!” (I was still lost in the Holy Ghost.) But then the Holy Spirit spoke to my spirit very loudly: “Go to the main auditorium of the church.” So I told the woman, “I’ll meet you and your friend at the church.”

It became very quiet on the other end of the line. After a while, I heard the two women whispering to each other. Then the elderly lady said to me, “Okay, we’ll meet you out in front of the church.”

When I arrived at the church, the two women met me and tried to take me to a room in the church basement, away from everyone else. But I kept saying what the Holy Ghost was saying to my spirit: “The main auditorium. We have to go to the main auditorium.” Finally, the ladies gave up and took me to the main auditorium, where people were still standing around in little circles, fellowshiping together.

I stood there, looking at the people. I didn’t know what to do. I was only there because I was obeying the Holy Ghost. Then the associate who had witnessed the miracle said, “Uh, I think this man wants to say something.”

I thought, I do? I had never preached before, and I was afraid. Everyone courteously looked at me. Timidly, I began to give the elderly woman’s testimony. Suddenly the Holy Ghost fell on me, and I was caught up in the awesome, powerful Presence of God. The gift of faith came on me (although at the time, I didn’t understand that), and I heard myself saying things that were so good, I knew it couldn’t be me preaching; I wasn’t that smart. I wanted to step out of my body and take notes!

Then while the gift of faith was still in operation, I looked over at one young man. As I walked over to him, suddenly his shoulder section became transparent like an X-ray, and in the Spirit I saw the shoulder joint and the problem with it. The young man could only lift his arm a little ways.

I said to the young man, “Your shoulder is going to be healed!” The closer I got to him, the more horrified he looked. His eyes got big, and he leaned as far away from me as he could. But it didn’t do him any good — I ran over to him and grabbed him by the wrist. Then I said, “In the Name of Jesus!” and jerked his arm straight up in the air.

The young man screamed as his arm went up — then he looked at me in amazement and said, “Why, it didn’t hurt!”

“You bet it didn’t hurt!” I replied. You see, the gift of faith was on me. I had the mind of God. I was acting with the faith of God, who had totally dislodged that frozen shoulder.

Later that night when the gift of faith wasn’t in operation anymore, I lay in bed, thinking, Roberson, you’re so stupid! What if you had broken that man’s arm? I didn’t know then that when the gift of faith is in operation, a person thinks like God thinks, and he may do things that just don’t make sense in the natural.

Then the woman who couldn’t bend her back ran over to me. That same supernatural faith was still on me. I put my hand on the back of her neck and bent her down until she touched her toes. She was instantly healed by the power of God.

The miracles continued. Finally, the elders came from every quarter of the church and said, “We’re breaking this up! This man is turning this into a holy-rolling, swinging-from-the-chandelier meeting. We’re not going to have this!”

But before they could do much of anything, I yelled out, “Does anybody want what I’ve got?” Immediately all the youth came running over to me, and I began to pray for them. They

started getting filled with the Holy Ghost, speaking in tongues and falling down under the power of God. The adults didn’t know what was going on! They went around taking the young people’s pulses, asking them, “Are you okay?” (Most of those young people are still serving God today; some have graduated from Bible school.)

People were speaking in tongues all over the auditorium, and the elders were in a frenzy. While they tried to get the situation back under control, I slipped out a side door. I was so lost in the Spirit, I hardly knew where I was. I could hardly walk. I staggered down the sidewalk a little ways until I found an iron post that supported the church. I leaned against the post and cried like a baby.

God had just used me! Because of my background, my mind could not fathom the fact that the God of the universe — the One whom all the ultra-Holiness people had told me dealt out so much punishment — would occupy the same room with me and perform a miracle through me. I can’t explain what that felt like. You see, I knew my shortcomings; I knew the real me. To think that God was working with me and through me to establish His Kingdom here on earth was almost more than I could fathom.

Why would He use one such as me? All of my born-again, Holy Ghost-filled years, I had known that I had God’s call on my life. And I had always been so hungry to know Him after His power. But no one could tell me how to walk into the power of God on purpose — no one! They could only give me vague generalities that didn’t satisfy that deep hunger.

Uncovering a Spiritual Law — By Accident!

Then, as I leaned against that post, all of a sudden prophecy began to flow, and I received the revelation knowledge my heart had been seeking all along. I didn’t know enough to speak out loud what I heard in my spirit.

The Holy Spirit said to me, “Son, this anointing didn’t suddenly come upon you because it was predestined for this meeting from the foundations of the world. It didn’t come on you in respect to your evangelistic call. I wish all My evangelists walked in My power.

“This anointing didn’t come on you because of your calling, your creed, your color, or your nation. It came upon you because you have uncovered a spiritual law: praying in other tongues for your personal edification. That law carries with it an ironclad guarantee to build you up on your most holy faith in your spirit — that part of you from which faith comes.

“You have found something you can do on purpose to edify yourself — as much as you want to, as long as you want to, whenever you want to. Through praying in the Holy Ghost, you can build yourself up above a walk where your physical senses hold you in checkmate and convince you that God’s Word isn’t so, to a walk that is vibrant, Spirit-charged, and free in the Holy Ghost.”

After being so hungry for God’s power for so long, I had accidentally uncovered one of the most important keys to growing in devil-stomping, mountain-moving faith — praying in tongues for personal edification. And do you think that after finding such a major key to unlock divine mysteries, anyone could keep me out of my prayer closet? Not a chance! I had a divine plan for my life to discover!