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Healed by Forgiveness

I was sexually molested by a family member when I was a young girl. At age 18, I was brutally raped and lived in fear of my attacker for years.

Following this last assault, I accepted Christ as my Savior. After having had a career in modeling and acting, I entered Bible college and fell more and more in love with God and ministry.

Today, I am an ordained minister and assistant pastor. Although I went to the family member who had abused me and told him I had forgiven him, bitterness still had a grip on my heart. read more

Thankful for Dad

My father loved telling the story about the day I was born, September 7, 1955. He named me Florence Rose, after his mother, who died when he was a boy.

During my childhood my parents did not get along well for a very long time. Years later I asked my dad why he had stayed around, and he said, "Because no one was gonna get my kids."

Back in the 1960s fathers had few rights, but our dad took care of my siblings and me when our mother moved out. Although she returned after several months, our dad was always there for us. read more

A Living Witness

Health issues have plagued me all my life. Tests administered years ago showed that I was allergic to almost everything.

I've spent many days in and out of hospitals. In 1993, I was hospitalized for more than a month. A portion of that stay was spent in the cardiac care unit (CCU).

I was unable to breathe, so a tube was put in my throat that prevented me from talking. But I asked my husband to bring my Bible and anointing oil to me. When I couldn't talk, these were witnessing tools for God. read more

God Still Heals

I was taken to a hospital, where I spent two weeks in a coma with a multiple skull fracture and a fractured jaw. I spent six weeks in the intensive care unit and another six weeks in rehabilitation, undergoing occupational, physical and speech therapy.

Finally, I was discharged and started putting the past behind me. I know the prayers of my parents, my friends, my teachers and my church helped me to recover. read more

Thankful Survivors

In 1944, I was in my early teens and spending the summer with my sister, Sissy, and her husband, Ted. Sissy, her four children and I were about to leave for a trip in her old station wagon, when Ted surprised her with a brand-new car he'd just bought for her.

This was in the days before seat belts, so I had the privilege of holding the new baby, Linda, on the road. It was Saturday, and there were lots of construction signs but no workers. For miles, the signs warned us of the deep ditch next to the shoulder of the extremely narrow road.

My sister was fumbling with the radio and ran off the highway. She pulled hard on the steering wheel but there was no controlling it. She screamed, "Hold on!" read more

God's Transforming Power

After her divorce, our daughter and her two children moved in with my husband and me. She did not get along with my husband, and there was constant strife in our home. A while later, he told her to leave.

My daughter was angry and left, taking the kids with her. I cried out to God, asking Him to protect my grandchildren and place them where they should be.

Soon the children were back in our home, and my daughter moved in with friends. The children were 6 and 7 years old and very active. At first I was overwhelmed, and I wasn't sure how I was going to hold down a job, lead a women's Bible study and take care of them. read more

God Meant it for Good

In the 1800s, my great-grandmother, who was white, became very ill. Her doctor prescribed morphine for her pain and, unfortunately, she became addicted to it. She eventually became involved with and conceived a child by a black man who was able to get the drug for her.

Their child, my grandmother, was born in 1900. Because her skin was brown, my grandmother was not allowed to attend the local public school. Neither were her daughter (my mother) nor I.

My mother and I have white skin; nevertheless, we were denied the privilege of going to school because of our racial heritage. We were rejected, laughed at, talked about, ridiculed and put down. read more

Take God at His Word

One day I was working at my desk when one of my co-workers mentioned that Charles and Frances Hunter, the "Happy Hunters," were holding their last healing crusade. She had read in Charisma about Frances Hunter's bout with breast cancer.

Hearing about this, I felt as if someone had just flattened me. I thought, Frances Hunter, this wonderful instrument of God, how could this be? I have known the Hunters and been ministered to by them since 1988, when they came to my church and taught on healing.

Within minutes, I was crying, and my friend was praying for me. My co-worker asked me if the cancer I'd battled a few years before had returned. I confessed that I did not know because there were so many sensations and feelings that I was dealing with in my body and mind. read more

Turning Pain into Power

I remember vividly the day my entire world changed. It was January 24, 1997, the day my husband, James R. "Jamie" Peebles Jr., died in a car accident.

We were going to my mother-in-law's house, and Jamie was driving. Suddenly, he laid his head on my shoulder and said, "Pam, I don't feel well."

With the car still in motion, I threw the gearshift into park, jumped from the car and began screaming for help. The next sounds I heard were tires squealing and cars crashing against one another. read more

God Bailed Me Out

I walked out of the Forsyth County jail on February 17, 1994. The judge released me and told me I was free to go. It seemed he did it against his better judgment because he spoke rather harshly to me as he signed my release orders.

"Young lady, you've done a fine job of wasting and ruining your life. Go ahead and finish the job."

I was jubilant to be free but afraid that maybe the judge was right--that I would die in the streets. I had been a prostitute for more than 13 years, and I was afraid I was doomed to the same destruction as the other women I'd known. Yet I continued working the streets. read more

From Dope to Hope

God has been good to me throughout my life, even though there were years when the enemy had me convinced that I was a worthless nobody. I've been a drug addict, a drug dealer and a "gang banger."

For 34 years, I was addicted to all kinds of drugs, including cocaine, but God delivered me. He also delivered me from cigarettes and sexual sin.

Nine-and-one-half years of my life were spent in and out of prison. But more than four years ago I was paroled, and I've never looked back. read more

God's Supernatural Love

I was organizing my things before departing on the final day of a writers conference when a thought came to me, Go home now!

Where did that come from? I wondered. I paused for a moment, then decided I was imagining things, so I got back to work. But the strange feeling I had persisted.

After arguing with myself, I finally prayed, "God, are you trying to tell me something?" read more

All Things are Possible

My mother was unable to care for me when I was born. As a result, I became a ward of the court and was placed in the foster care system in Washington, D.C., where I remained until I was 20.

I grew up in an emotionally and physically abusive home. At 13, with only the clothes on my back, I ran away. I spent my first night as a runaway in the cold, sleeping under a car and later, under a house.

Before running away, I had been living in Aiken, South Carolina, but the court relocated me to Washington, D.C. There I was moved around from a foster home to a group home and then to another group home. read more

Endless Mercy

In October of 1999, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Following a lumpectomy, I learned that I needed a mastectomy because the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes.

The next seven months were filled with chemotherapy, radiation and testing. My mom, who is also my personal prayer warrior, prayed continually for me.

My family and church blessed me in so many ways. I knew people were praying for me all the time. read more

Soul Food

It was Saturday morning, and I really wanted one of those flaky biscuit sandwiches from a local fast-food restaurant. Nobody makes 'em better than this place!

My husband and I had a busy day planned. We'd just swing by the restaurant, pick up our order, which we'd called in, and get on with the numerous tasks at hand.

We weren't expecting to be delayed by a hit-and-run accident. A car had entered an intersection on a red light. An oncoming vehicle swerved to avoid a crash and was forced up onto the median where it leveled a street sign. read more

Nothing is Impossible

On July 28, 1997, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. The disease had already gone into my bone marrow.

As a believer, I knew that God could heal today just as He had healed people in Bible times. So along with my church family, I began seeking Him for healing. Many people were praying for me. read more

Prayers of a Righteous Mother

When our kids were young, "pillow talk" was always special. This was a time to sit in intimate half-light at bedtime and ask how things were--really were--if signs of reticence or sadness were detected that day.

We would gather any untied threads of the day, talk about them and pray these things into the Father's hands. Confessions, hopes, ideas and fears were expressed then as at no other time.

Trust was built into our relationship that stood us in good stead in later years. One kind of pillow talk we engaged in allowed me to relate to our teen daughter when the distance between us seemed great. read more

He Made Me Whole

Fifteen years prior to the wonderful day when I was born again, my husband, Al, and I were in an automobile accident that resulted in a serious injury to my back. I spent those years with searing pain as my constant companion.

Though both Al and I are Jewish, it never occurred to us that God was alive and willing to be my healer. Unbeknownst to us, my husband's secretary, Joan, and her church family were praying for my healing.

One day Joan approached Al and invited us to her church for a healing service. He was not comfortable with the idea. He thought of her as a "religious fanatic"--but all I heard was the word "healing," and I was all for that. read more

God Still Heals

One morning my 9-year-old daughter, Sara, suddenly began having a violent seizure. At the time, we were on vacation and driving on a road in the middle of nowhere.

We rushed to the nearest emergency room, and within an hour, the doctors confirmed that Sara had experienced a grand mal seizure. We were shocked because she had never had one before.

During the next eight months Sara had five more seizures. Fear and frustration gripped me. All I could do was hold her as tears streamed down my face. read more

Rescued from the Occult

Growing up in the Roman Catholic Church, I attended parochial schools and sometimes went to Mass six days a week. But I lost faith in the church when, later in life, I found myself divorced with two small children and excluded from communion and the other sacraments.

My twin sister urged me to attend her church and gave me a copy of The Book. At age 31, for the first time in my life, I began reading the Bible.

At the same time, a close friend persuaded me to see a psychic, and I soon became hooked. I was enchanted with the New Age movement because it made me feel as if I had special powers and was in control of my destiny. At church, I felt like an outsider--a divorced single mom in the midst of all those happy families. read more

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