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What I Have Seen, I Have Learned to Take Hold Of
This book did not begin as an idea. It began as a series of nights and mornings, kitchens and church aisles, sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs — small, ordinary moments in which heaven kept interrupting earth. Over the years, the Lord has been teaching me something I could not have learned from a sermon alone: that what He shows a person in the spirit is not decoration. It is not merely encouragement, and it is not simply symbolic. It is substance. It is provision already prepared, already stored, already flowing — and it is waiting for someone to reach out in faith, agree with what they have seen, and pull it down into the earth.
Scripture tells us to pray that His will would be done on earth as it is already being done in heaven. I used to read that as a request. Now I read it as an instruction. Heaven is not lacking. Heaven's storehouses are full — of grain, of oil, of bread, of gold, of everything the earth calls scarce. The question was never whether God had enough. The question was whether I would learn to see what was already there, and whether I would have the courage to walk toward it, take hold of it, and carry it into my every day, natural life.
Every chapter in this book is a true account — a dream, a vision, or an ordinary moment where God's provision became undeniable. Some are dramatic. Some are as small as two farm-fresh eggs. I have laid them out roughly in the order I lived them, and after each one I have tried to draw out what God was teaching me, because I believe these are not just my stories. I believe they are patterns — the same patterns He used with Joseph in Egypt, with the widow of Zarephath, and with a crowd of five thousand on a hillside — and I believe He is inviting you into the same kind of seeing, and the same kind of faith.
“What is shown to us in the spirit is not a picture to admire. It is a deed already signed in heaven, waiting for a hand on earth to receive it.”
My prayer is that as you read, you would not just be moved by what God has done for me, but that your own eyes would begin to open — that you would start to notice the dreams you've dismissed, the impressions you've explained away, the strange details in a vision that turned out to be exact. God is still speaking. He is still storing up. And He is still looking for people willing to walk into the warehouse.
What I Have Seen, I Have Learned to Take Hold Of
This book did not begin as an idea. It began as a series of nights and mornings, kitchens and church aisles, sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs — small, ordinary moments in which heaven kept interrupting earth. Over the years, the Lord has been teaching me something I could not have learned from a sermon alone: that what He shows a person in the spirit is not decoration. It is not merely encouragement, and it is not simply symbolic. It is substance. It is provision already prepared, already stored, already flowing — and it is waiting for someone to reach out in faith, agree with what they have seen, and pull it down into the earth.
Scripture tells us to pray that His will would be done on earth as it is already being done in heaven. I used to read that as a request. Now I read it as an instruction. Heaven is not lacking. Heaven's storehouses are full — of grain, of oil, of bread, of gold, of everything the earth calls scarce. The question was never whether God had enough. The question was whether I would learn to see what was already there, and whether I would have the courage to walk toward it, take hold of it, and carry it into my every day, natural life.
Every chapter in this book is a true account — a dream, a vision, or an ordinary moment where God's provision became undeniable. Some are dramatic. Some are as small as two farm-fresh eggs. I have laid them out roughly in the order I lived them, and after each one I have tried to draw out what God was teaching me, because I believe these are not just my stories. I believe they are patterns — the same patterns He used with Joseph in Egypt, with the widow of Zarephath, and with a crowd of five thousand on a hillside — and I believe He is inviting you into the same kind of seeing, and the same kind of faith.
“What is shown to us in the spirit is not a picture to admire. It is a deed already signed in heaven, waiting for a hand on earth to receive it.”
My prayer is that as you read, you would not just be moved by what God has done for me, but that your own eyes would begin to open — that you would start to notice the dreams you've dismissed, the impressions you've explained away, the strange details in a vision that turned out to be exact. God is still speaking. He is still storing up. And He is still looking for people willing to walk into the warehouse.