Not everyone is allowed to see us as a child and desperately human at times. There is a part of us the world will never understand or be able to accept. At first that bothered us, but not anymore. As long as Jesus smiles when He looks in our direction, we are ten feet tall.
Were it not for the love and protection of Jesus - the Lion of the tribe of Judah, we would not have survived. But we have more than survived; we have won and will continue to win. “Christ in us, the hope of GLORY," cannot lose. Sharing our joy, victory, and values with others is the purpose of our lives. We love you and want you to know our joy.  Peter & Rebekah


(From chapter 19 - "The Stone Table at Maagan." you are invited to send for a copy of the book:

American Indians from Dulce, New Mexico, love us and often visit us. They belong to the Jicarilla-Apache tribe. Dulce is fifty miles south of where we live. In fact, one of our favorite Indian families, the Vigils, are on their way just now to bring us a load of firewood. These wonderful people seldom let us know when they are coming. They rely on the Holy Spirit to let them know when it’s time for a visit, and they are rarely wrong.
On one occasion, there was a knock on the door, and Karla and her daughter were waiting for me to open it. I reluctantly opened the door because I was very exhausted; I could hardly speak I was so totally spent. Nevertheless, I invited them to come in. After we hugged one another, they found their favorite place on the couch and waited for me to open my treasure chest of stories. I did not even have the strength to open the lid. They sat there in confused silence, wondering what might be wrong. In the past I had always entertained them with the latest miracles.
They never came for a handout, but were always ready to give a hand-up; they came to hear what God had been doing in our lives since their last visit. And I loved telling them, but this time I was running on fumes and didn’t have anything for anyone.
Finally, I told them, saying, “I have nothing to give or tell you today. I am totally spent. I am like a piece of fine china that is ready to shatter if someone just says ‘boo.’ Here is your chance to minister to me. I am very weak and needy.”
The two looked at each other. They could hardly believe what they heard. Peter had always been the strong one in the past, like an Ever-Ready battery. Slowly and with a bit of hesitation, they got up from the couch and stood in front of me. They asked Rebekah for some anointing oil and anointed my forehead. Then they began to pray, to praise, to sing in the Spirit, to dance around me, to clap their hands, etc. and etc. They had great freedom in the Spirit in our home to let their gifts minister to me and to Jesus in me.
For the longest time nothing happened. It seemed that all my spiritual veins had collapsed. The angels with their syringes could not find any place to give me an infusion of Life. (Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the LIFE.”) The two women continued to pray and praise God while I sat there like a bump on a log. My internal dialogue went something like this: “Lord, as long as they are willing to keep this up, I’ll just sit here and see what happens.” Nothing happened for the longest time, but then something did happen.
Way in the distance, I heard these words: “Peter, you don’t have to be strong all the time. Peter, you don’t have to be strong all the time. Peter, you don’t have to be strong all the time.”
I may have heard those same words ten or twenty times. Each time I heard them, a little more LIFE came into me. Finally, I said to Karla and her daughter, “You can stop praying. I am healed.”
Yes, indeed, I was healed. And for the next few months, I nestled and did not wrestle. I rationed my phone calls and let the answering machine pinch-hit for me. I wrote a minimum number of letters, and curtailed my visits with favorite friends at Wolf Tracks Bookstore & Coffee Company. I was not going to allow such complete exhaustion to happen again if I could help it. The Holy Spirit kept reminding me that exhaustion is the enemy of every good soldier. Even Jesus had to go off by Himself at times to be alone with His Father. The Holy Spirit also showed me another reason He had permitted me to experience such deep exhaustion. He said two things: “Peter, others cannot give to you or minister to you when you are strong. It is their pleasure to be asked to pour the gift of LIFE into you.”

He also reminded me of the words of the apostle Paul from the Second Book of Corinthians: “The Lord spoke and said, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (II Corinthians 12:9). WOW!

Peter – The Lord’s Scribe & Storyteller

The Warrior is a Child by Twila Paris

Lately I've been winning battles left and right,
But even warriors can get wounded in the fight.
People say that I'm amazing, strong beyond my years,
But they don't see inside of me: I'm hiding all the tears
Unafraid because his armor is the best
But even soldiers need a quiet place to rest.
People say that I'm amazing, never face retreat.
But they don't see the enemies that lay me at His feet.

They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down.
They don't know who picks me up when no one is around.
I drop my sword and cry for just awhile.
Because deep inside this armor, the warrior is a child.