Preparing the Bride of Christ For His Return By Janet Van Hierdan
A Tale of Two Brides is now available on Amazon.com:
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Another
Coffee Break:
Point of No Return
February 27, 2015
'Mornin'
Folks! Had a good week so far? Great!
I'm continuing on reprising a few stories that go back ten years or more
when I first began publishing these
Coffee Breaks. I'm going to return to a
rather casual, kinda-round-the-table, relaxed way of writing (conversational
style, OK?) for this -- and next week's -- Coffee Break. This week's Coffee Break deals with a few
hair raising adventures.
You all know what a point of no
return is, don’t you? Where you’ve
committed yourself to some course of action or direction, and suddenly
something happens – maybe some event that means life or death – and you have no
choice but to proceed forward on your committed course?
Boy, do I have some stories and some
crazy experiences on that subject! Let’s
see where this discussion takes us today.
Got your coffee poured, yet?
Hurry up!
Traveling to Kotzebue,
Alaska one day from Fairbanks (this was a bunch of years ago) in
one of those Fairchild F-27’s – you “old folks” remember them, the upper-wing
planes with a pair of turboprop engines – we lost an engine. In case you don’t know the geography,
Kotzebue is roughly 450 miles west-northwest of Fairbanks
out on one of the western tips of Alaska in
the Bering Sea. Funny thing, though. We were 235 – 240 miles into our flight. That’s just over halfway.
Take a look at a map, will you. Except for some native communities, fishing
villages and the like, there’s a whole lot of nothing in that stretch! Nothing, meaning no landing strips or
airports big enough to accommodate an F-27 – especially one flown by Wien
Alaska Airlines. You had to have lived
there and flown Wien to appreciate that comment. When Noel Wien started his airline back at
the end of the biplane era, he flew freight and used whatever space he had left
for passengers.
Things never changed for as many
years as that airline existed in Alaska. Even when the first 737’s came out, Wien
would put a cargo buffer about midway through the aircraft. It was movable, and – depending on the amount
of cargo or freight being carried – the plane would carry anywhere from 20 – 60
passengers. The freight often matched
the entire load capacity, and passengers made our weight exceed the aircraft’s
rating. I think the only plane in Wien’s
history that never had a problem with the freight – passenger thing was the
DC-3 – the WWII Gooney Bird. That plane
just never seemed to have a weight problem.
‘Course it flew like a Mack Truck, too!
Took forever to get it moving, but once it was, look out!
Anyway, I digress. We’d just passed the flight’s point of no
return on the way to Kotzebue when we lost an engine. This F-27 flight wasn’t any different from
any other Wien flight: it was way overloaded.
So what do you think happens when
you are flying an overloaded plane and you lose one of your two engines? Hmmmm…….
Anybody? Yup. You got it!
The plane starts to come down.
You lose altitude.
And we started dropping. Normally configured, the F-27 probably held
45 – 50 passengers. With the freight and
cargo taking up most of the cabin, we had perhaps a dozen folks on that flight.
I looked out the window and saw the
engine sputtering, blowing smoke and all that, and finally the prop
stopped. The pilot came over the
intercom to advise us that we had lost an engine (Duhhhh. I wonder if anybody noticed!) and that there
were no other airports in range. We were
committed to Kotzebue.
This was one of those times when
you’d better be prayed up! The pilot was
fighting to keep the plane aloft long enough for us to reach Kotzebue, knowing
that it was really going to be close. I
saw some folks that day who probably hadn’t talked to the Lord in years – if
ever! They were going through their
gyrations and gymnastics, making the sign of the cross, lips moving, faces
etched with the fear of death – you know the program!
I sat back in my seat not meaning to
laugh or chuckle at what I was seeing, but having perfect peace in my whole
being. “Lord, from what you’ve told me
throughout the years, I know my time hasn’t come, so if you have to send a
couple of angels to hold up the wings and keep us aloft until we reach
Kotzebue, then do it – in Jesus’ name.”
It was almost eerie. But it was a peaceful experience knowing that
my life – our lives – were totally in the Lord’s care, and that there wasn’t
one blessed thing anyone of us could do about the situation.
You see, I had passed the point of
no return many years before. I’d
committed myself to obeying and following the Lord Jesus Christ , no matter
what He asked – regardless of the consequences.
There was no turning back. That’s
the greatest point of no return any person can pass in their life. Once you’ve passed that point, you’re
committed. Whatever comes – whether for
life or death – there is no changing things!
You can’t alter the circumstances.
And it doesn't matter! You simply
follow the Lord wherever He leads.
Watching us drop closer and closer
to the ground, I knew my fellow-passengers were near panic. I just smiled at them and said, “It’s
OK. The Lord has it all under
control. We’ll make it to Kotzebue just
fine!” I don’t know how much difference
those words made to anyone, but they seemed to take some assurance in my
confidence.
50 miles out from Kotzebue, we were
less than 500 feet above the ground.
Good thing the terrain was so flat!
The pilot radioed ahead, of course, and the airport folks had Kotzebue’s
one ambulance and one fire truck waiting for our arrival. We lined up for the runway with maybe 250 –
300 feet of altitude. The pilot landed
the plane smooth as silk on that one engine.
No bumping. No skidding. No sideways jerking. ‘Course, there wasn’t a bad pilot in that
entire airline. Those Wien Alaska
Airline pilots were the best anywhere in the world. We came in as though everything was
fine. It was, too. The Lord sent His angels to carry the plane
to its destination.
Then there was that experience when
I was traveling to Jackson Hole, Wyoming from our office in Salt Lake City. It was the winter of 1969, as I recall. I was the President of Intermountain
Electronics Corporation. The company VP,
Bill, was riding with me in our GMC van.
We‘d were headed to Jackson to sign a contract to maintain some
electronic equipment for a school.
In those days, U.S. Highway 89 was
no freeway. Still isn’t, for the most
part! The road had about six to eight
inches of fresh snow, and there was one set of tracks where a number of
vehicles had been. It had warmed up just
enough to form a crust, making it all but impossible to get out of the rut in
an emergency.
You could see a couple of places
where trucks had pulled off to allow other vehicles to pass, but they were few
and far between. Mostly, it was just one
set of tracks – ruts – right down the center of the highway.
We were somewhere halfway between
Logan and Garden City, Utah (according to my recollection) when we saw a
bridge. The bridge was elevated over the
creek, of course, and the road inclined upward to the bridge. It blocked our view so that you couldn’t see
anything coming down the road. We hadn’t
seen any traffic for quite awhile, and consequently were feeling OK about
driving 45 – 50 miles per hour, the ruts notwithstanding.
The van was handling just fine – no
rocking from side to side, none of the kinds of problems you would encounter if
the ruts were really narrow. There was
just one problem. It was starting to
warm up, and there was a glaze on the pavement.
You might call it black ice except for the fact that you really couldn’t
see the pavement.
As we start up the rise to the
bridge, we can suddenly see another car coming at us, maybe 500 feet away. No problem if you’re not doing 50 and not in
ruts. Hitting the brakes and trying to
get out of the ruts was a joke! We just
kept right on going as though the van was programmed to drive in a straight
line.
Know what? We’d passed the point of no return. Our speed, coupled with the ruts and the
slight glaze on the roadway meant we were committed to at least a quarter-mile
or better in front of us before we could stop.
The guy coming at us was doing
exactly what we were doing. He hadn’t
seen any traffic, probably since he left Garden City, and he was cruising along
like he had good sense. He was way past his
point of no return.
Got the picture? Two vehicles pointed directly at each other,
both going somewhere close to 50 miles per hour, 500 feet or so apart, and the
stopping zone about 250 feet the other side of the approaching car. Man, have you ever passed the point of no
return!
Even with instantaneous reflexes,
there’s no time to do anything. The
wheel doesn’t respond when you try to get out of the rut. Hitting the brakes is almost like hitting the
accelerator.
As we approached each other, I could
see the terror in the eyes of the fellow who was driving the oncoming car. It all happened so fast there was hardly time
to blink. My business partner, Bill, the
company VP, was a Mormon who wasn’t used to miracles, and sure wasn’t used to
shouting, “Jesus!” in an emergency. (No
offense meant to any of you readers who are Mormons. That was just where Bill was.)
I did what I’d been trained to do by
my mother in an emergency. We’d had
plenty of practice living in the arctic, and I’d had plenty of practice in
traveling with my mother and my brother as we raised money to build
churches. We had experienced some very
close calls on the highways and even had an event in which the front end of the
car Mom was driving came apart, and resulted in the car flipping over some
three times or more.
“JESUS!!”
The word exploded from my lips. It wasn’t a curse word. It was one of those split-second prayers when
you don’t have time for, “Dear Heavenly Father, I'm coming to you in my hour of
need. I’m in trouble and I need your
help and intervention right now! Get us
out of this mess in Jesus’ Name, Amen.”
By the time you pray all those words, it’s all over with. You better KNOW the Lord in those
circumstances. Formal prayers don't cut
it! Come to think of it, formal prayers
have no business in the life of believers who have a genuine, intimate
relationship with Jesus Christ.
Like I said, we’d long passed the
point of no return. So had I in my
relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ.
I was almost standing on the
brakes. “JESUS!”
The
van came to a stop. So did the
approaching car. Except for one
thing. We were 250 – 300 feet apart –
THE OTHER SIDE OF EACH OTHER!
It
happened in an instant. We literally
passed through each other like something out of a Sci-Fi movie. This was no science fiction! Just like Jesus passed through walls and
doors by dematerializing and then rematerializing, we passed through each other. In actual fact, we had shifted
dimensions. We had transitioned instantly
into a parallel dimension provided by Holy Spirit.
You
see, this sort of thing was very natural for Jesus! He was naturally supernatural. Know what?
If we are in Christ, and He is in us, so are we. We should come to expect this kind of thing
as natural! Supernaturally natural!
Bill
looked at me. He was white as a
sheet. “What just happened?” he
asked. I was so stunned myself at what
had just transpired that I only had a one word answer, “Jesus.” Guess I shouldn't have been so surprised, but
I have to admit; it was the first time in my life I'd experienced this kind of
thing. It turned out not to be the last
time, either! Guess that experience will
have to wait for another time.
We
got out of the van and looked back. The
driver of the other car was standing outside his car looking at us and
scratching his head and wiping his brow.
I'll never forget the look of horror on his face as we meshed into and
through his car. It was one of those
split second things you see that leaves an indelible impression. Standing outside his car in the snow, he
didn’t really know what had just happened, and he was wondering if he was still
alive or if this was some kind of strange dream.
It
wasn’t. It was real. OK -- for Bill and for the other driver, it
was surreal! (smile) We got back in the van and headed down the
road. It gave me a fabulous chance to
talk to Bill about the Lord Jesus Christ in a way he’d never heard. He was listening, too!
We’d
passed the point of no return in a life and death situation and returned to
talk about it. Kinda like the Apollo 13
astronauts. Remember them?
Apollo
13….well, I don’t have time to go there today, but most of you know that story
anyway. The astronauts had a major
disaster with their spacecraft – after they were committed to a trip to the
moon at several times the velocity of a speeding bullet. The accident happened when they were past the
point of no return. And they made it
back, miraculously, by the grace of God.
And
that’s another story. Maybe we’ll get to
talk about that another time. I’ve got
some more of those point-of-no-return stories that happened in Utah, but they’ll wait,
too.
Anyway,
have a spectacular day! Ohh…..and if you
haven’t passed the point of no return with Jesus, better take care of it –
NOW!! Don’t let any daisies grow under
your feet. It just might be too late!
I remind those of you
in need of healing of our Healing Prayer Call on Mondays at 7:00 PM
Eastern. Once again, the number to call
for prayer is (805) 399-1000. Then enter
the access code: 124763#.
Also want to let you
know that our Sunday worship gatherings are available by conference call –
usually at about 10:45AM Pacific. That
conference number is (559) 726-1300, and the access code is 308640#.
Blessings on you!
Regner
Regner A. Capener
CAPENER MINISTRIES
CAPENER MINISTRIES
RIVER WORSHIP CENTER
Sunnyside, Washington 98944
Sunnyside, Washington 98944
Email Contact: Admin@RiverWorshipCenter.org
Our book, A
Tale of Two Brides, published by Destiny Image, is available on
Amazon.com as an E-book: http://www.amazon.com/Tale-Two-Brides-Relationship-ebook/dp/B00BSV6HZC/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1363139096&sr=8-8&keywords=A+Tale+of+Two+Brides#_
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Saturday, February 21, 2015
Another
Coffee Break:
Della Denise, Part 2
February 20, 2015
Last
week I began a reprise of a story that I shared some ten years ago not long
after these Coffee Breaks first began being published. We left off with a cliffhanger, and I'll pick
up the rest of that story in a minute.
When
I began this story last week, I noted how Della was born into an Okie family
transplanted to Washington State. Her
family had lived in Granite, Oklahoma for a couple of generations after leaving
Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia. Her
ancestors were named among the original Mayflower settlers and were among the
signers of the Mayflower Compact.
What
I didn't mention either was the rather illustrious political history of her
forebears, or the fact that John C. Calhoun -- Vice-President of the United
States under Andrew Jackson -- was in her family lineage, along with U.S.
Senator David Rice Atchison (for whom Atchison, KS was named) who was President
Pro Tempore of the Senate and served as President of the United States for one
day in between the Polk and Taylor Administrations.
As the
story goes, James Polk's term of office expired on Saturday, March 3,
1849. Zachary Taylor was due to be sworn
in on Sunday, the 4th, but refused to take the oath of office on Sunday because
of his religious convictions. David Rice
Atchison was next in line as President Pro Tempore of the Senate and served as
President of the U.S. for that one day until Taylor could be sworn in. There were other political notables in
Della's family history, but these two were worth noting. Those strong leadership genes in her
forebears are clearly evident today.
Now,
let me finish where I left off last week after noting that some three and a
half years after we were married, the four children from Della's first marriage
were abducted from our front yard in Anchorage and spirited out of the
state. It didn't take any great
spiritual wisdom to figure out that it was the children's biological father who
had kidnapped them, but it took weeks to actually be able to confirm it. It was perhaps three months before we found
out where the children were being hidden, but each time we located them, they
were moved to another location, and this process continued for several months
in an effort to keep them hidden.
Because
custody issues were muddied in the divorce, I went to a prominent attorney
friend. He told me to expect the process
of recovery to take as much as two-to-three years and not less than $30,000 in
up-front legal fees. That was out of the
question. Della flew to Washington state
where the children were being hidden while I busied myself in Alaska law books
and statutes. Once the children's
location was verified and we had witnesses to the abuse they were suffering, Della went to court to argue for a
permanent custody status. The judge
hearing the case happened to be the presiding judge of the Yakima Superior
Court and he recommended to Della that she not move the case back to Alaska and
give him the opportunity to hear the entire case.
With
knees shaking as she stood before the judge, Della nevertheless was anointed by
Holy Spirit and laid out the case clearly and succinctly. The judge was visibly affected by her
statement and rose to his feet behind the bench. He pointed his finger at her ex-husband and
demanded an answer. He stammered and
stuttered and tried to avoid the question.
His attorney stepped in and tried to quiet things but the judge ordered
him to provide immediate access to the children and granted immediate custody
of Shelley, the oldest daughter, after hearing that he had no idea where she
was.
I'll
shorten this part of a very long story by saying that I flew to Washington and
buried myself in Washington family law.
I provided the legal arguments from Washington and Federal law, and
depositions for a fistful of witnesses whom Della had been able to locate. When the case went to court, the judge had a
three-inch thick file of arguments and depositions to go along with Della's
arguments, and six months from the time we began the process, we had full
custody. The legal battle, along with
Holy Spirit's anointing over Della and the ways in which we saw the
intervention of the Lord, produced a boldness in Della and a confidence in God
that has never departed.
Let me backtrack a bit in my narrative. Some three months after Della and I had been married, I suffered a massive heart attack in the shower and dropped dead. The only answer I could come up with was that the same stresses that led to the departure of my first wife and subsequent divorce also contributed to my death.
Della and I had just moved into a new home in North Pole, Alaska. We hadn’t even had the chance to get a telephone turned on, and our nearest neighbors were almost a half-mile from us. There was no chance to call for a doctor or an ambulance. Della simply reacted with instant anger at being robbed of the love of her life and new husband. She dragged my body out of the shower, out of the bathroom, and into our bedroom where she heaved and shoved my body onto the bed.
You’ll appreciate the miracle of that feat when you realize that I stood 6’2” and weighed (at the time) around 250 pounds compared to Della’s diminutive 5’ and 104-pound frame.
She proceeded to begin commanding life back into my body and yelling to God that she wasn’t going to put up with losing me. Between shouting at Satan and commanding death to depart and ordering me to come back to life, “in the Name of Jesus,” an incredible sense of faith sprang up in her being in what God had done in putting us together, and a certain knowledge that my life here was far from over.
It was no instant event, however. After about fifteen minutes, I suddenly came to with Della straddling my body, her arms upraised, and shouting, “In the Name of Jesus, you will come back!” Her eyes were closed, and it was a bit of a shock for her when I reached up and grabbed a fist that seemed certain to come down on my chest.
We look back now and laugh at that day, but it was serious business at the time. Della demanded that I get a physical checkup. I had seen a family doctor about a year prior after receiving healing from tuberculosis, so I went to see that same doctor for a complete physical.
The doctor was extremely thorough with his tests once Della told him what had happened. He walked out of his lab with two sets of X-rays in hand, shaking his head. “This is miraculous,” he said. “Here are the X-rays I took a year ago showing the scar tissue left over on your lungs from the tuberculosis; and here are the new X-rays I just took. There is no trace of scar tissue!”
His tests showed that my blood pressure was normal, an EKG was perfect, blood work came out with perfect balance. "Regner, your health is that of someone 20 years your junior. Congratulations, my friend. You are in wonderful shape!”
For the most part, it’s been that way ever since. Folks have commented throughout the years on the fact that I seem to have boundless energy and act like someone who’s a lot younger. I am! <smile> The Lord raised me from the dead and restored my health so that my “youth was renewed as the eagle’s.” In the past year and a half, another doctor has nearly repeated verbatim what that doctor said. I'm approaching my 73rd birthday and keep a schedule most 40-year-olds would struggle with.
This event repeated perhaps ten years later with a friend of ours, Marcia Treend, when we were in Atlin, British Columbia visiting and sharing with some folks. Through the years Della had become a tower of strength to many folks. One of our minister friends in Spokane, Washington – Dale Peterson – would get really tickled at Della when she would light up and begin to wax eloquent on some spiritual issue.
Dale would grab a chair or make like he was getting a box and say to Della, “Preach it, Sister Della! Here’s your soapbox. Let’s go put this in the park and you can preach to folks.” Everyone would bust out laughing.
Della has always felt that she was not qualified to be a preacher because she didn’t have the educational background of her peers, but we have encouraged her many times that the anointing of the Holy Spirit takes over for the lack of education. And so He does! Whenever the Holy Spirit anoints Della to speak on some spiritual issue, she is as eloquent and forceful – perhaps more so – than any degreed preacher you’ve ever heard.
In any case, we were in Atlin helping some friends, Kitty and Rene Loyd, fix up a building on skids into a pretty rough guest house. Rene, Earle Treend (Marcia’s husband) and I were laying linoleum while Della, Kitty and Marcia were sharing together at the Loyds’ log home.
Outside the log house was a sidewalk of sorts, constructed on timbers and logs with 2 X 4’s, 2 X 8’s, and 2 X 10’s for planks. The sidewalk had been constructed to provide a walkway across an area where the spring melt caused a lot of water to flow, creating really muddy conditions.
The ladies decided to walk down to the building where we were working and check on our labors. As they were walking, Marcia stepped on a 2 X 10 plank that had come loose. The combination of where she walked and the weight of her body leveraged the plank, and it flew up, striking her on her temple.
It was a pretty good blow, and it stunned her. She lost her balance, of course, and began to fall. The weight of her falling body hit it just right, and again it flew up, striking her in virtually the same place. This time, she dropped like a rock. Della was there to catch her and cushion her fall.
As Della cradled Marcia in her arms, her eyes rolled back in her head and she expired. The color drained from her face. Della heard the same death rattle from her throat she had heard from me when I collapsed nearly ten years earlier. Kitty was in shock at seeing her friend killed like that, but Della had presence of mind to say to her, “Kitty, go get some pillows so we can lay her head down.”
Kitty turned to leave and headed for the house. In that moment, Della saw the Spirit of Death visibly coming for Marcia. When I say, visibly, that's exactly what I mean. She saw the Spirit of Death as a dark entity approaching as though it were a person.
Let me backtrack a bit in my narrative. Some three months after Della and I had been married, I suffered a massive heart attack in the shower and dropped dead. The only answer I could come up with was that the same stresses that led to the departure of my first wife and subsequent divorce also contributed to my death.
Della and I had just moved into a new home in North Pole, Alaska. We hadn’t even had the chance to get a telephone turned on, and our nearest neighbors were almost a half-mile from us. There was no chance to call for a doctor or an ambulance. Della simply reacted with instant anger at being robbed of the love of her life and new husband. She dragged my body out of the shower, out of the bathroom, and into our bedroom where she heaved and shoved my body onto the bed.
You’ll appreciate the miracle of that feat when you realize that I stood 6’2” and weighed (at the time) around 250 pounds compared to Della’s diminutive 5’ and 104-pound frame.
She proceeded to begin commanding life back into my body and yelling to God that she wasn’t going to put up with losing me. Between shouting at Satan and commanding death to depart and ordering me to come back to life, “in the Name of Jesus,” an incredible sense of faith sprang up in her being in what God had done in putting us together, and a certain knowledge that my life here was far from over.
It was no instant event, however. After about fifteen minutes, I suddenly came to with Della straddling my body, her arms upraised, and shouting, “In the Name of Jesus, you will come back!” Her eyes were closed, and it was a bit of a shock for her when I reached up and grabbed a fist that seemed certain to come down on my chest.
We look back now and laugh at that day, but it was serious business at the time. Della demanded that I get a physical checkup. I had seen a family doctor about a year prior after receiving healing from tuberculosis, so I went to see that same doctor for a complete physical.
The doctor was extremely thorough with his tests once Della told him what had happened. He walked out of his lab with two sets of X-rays in hand, shaking his head. “This is miraculous,” he said. “Here are the X-rays I took a year ago showing the scar tissue left over on your lungs from the tuberculosis; and here are the new X-rays I just took. There is no trace of scar tissue!”
His tests showed that my blood pressure was normal, an EKG was perfect, blood work came out with perfect balance. "Regner, your health is that of someone 20 years your junior. Congratulations, my friend. You are in wonderful shape!”
For the most part, it’s been that way ever since. Folks have commented throughout the years on the fact that I seem to have boundless energy and act like someone who’s a lot younger. I am! <smile> The Lord raised me from the dead and restored my health so that my “youth was renewed as the eagle’s.” In the past year and a half, another doctor has nearly repeated verbatim what that doctor said. I'm approaching my 73rd birthday and keep a schedule most 40-year-olds would struggle with.
This event repeated perhaps ten years later with a friend of ours, Marcia Treend, when we were in Atlin, British Columbia visiting and sharing with some folks. Through the years Della had become a tower of strength to many folks. One of our minister friends in Spokane, Washington – Dale Peterson – would get really tickled at Della when she would light up and begin to wax eloquent on some spiritual issue.
Dale would grab a chair or make like he was getting a box and say to Della, “Preach it, Sister Della! Here’s your soapbox. Let’s go put this in the park and you can preach to folks.” Everyone would bust out laughing.
Della has always felt that she was not qualified to be a preacher because she didn’t have the educational background of her peers, but we have encouraged her many times that the anointing of the Holy Spirit takes over for the lack of education. And so He does! Whenever the Holy Spirit anoints Della to speak on some spiritual issue, she is as eloquent and forceful – perhaps more so – than any degreed preacher you’ve ever heard.
In any case, we were in Atlin helping some friends, Kitty and Rene Loyd, fix up a building on skids into a pretty rough guest house. Rene, Earle Treend (Marcia’s husband) and I were laying linoleum while Della, Kitty and Marcia were sharing together at the Loyds’ log home.
Outside the log house was a sidewalk of sorts, constructed on timbers and logs with 2 X 4’s, 2 X 8’s, and 2 X 10’s for planks. The sidewalk had been constructed to provide a walkway across an area where the spring melt caused a lot of water to flow, creating really muddy conditions.
The ladies decided to walk down to the building where we were working and check on our labors. As they were walking, Marcia stepped on a 2 X 10 plank that had come loose. The combination of where she walked and the weight of her body leveraged the plank, and it flew up, striking her on her temple.
It was a pretty good blow, and it stunned her. She lost her balance, of course, and began to fall. The weight of her falling body hit it just right, and again it flew up, striking her in virtually the same place. This time, she dropped like a rock. Della was there to catch her and cushion her fall.
As Della cradled Marcia in her arms, her eyes rolled back in her head and she expired. The color drained from her face. Della heard the same death rattle from her throat she had heard from me when I collapsed nearly ten years earlier. Kitty was in shock at seeing her friend killed like that, but Della had presence of mind to say to her, “Kitty, go get some pillows so we can lay her head down.”
Kitty turned to leave and headed for the house. In that moment, Della saw the Spirit of Death visibly coming for Marcia. When I say, visibly, that's exactly what I mean. She saw the Spirit of Death as a dark entity approaching as though it were a person.
In
that moment she felt the Spirit of the Lord literally merge into her
being. Instantly, she shouted, “No, you
will not!” The Spirit of Death continued
to approach. An anger and vehemence rose
up in Della. She felt as though the Holy
Spirit had poured Himself into her being.
Again, she pointed at the Spirit of Death and shouted, “I said, NO! YOU
WILL NOT!”
Then she looked down at Marcia and simply spoke her name – loudly, of course, “MARCIA !!”
Marcia’s eyes opened, color flooded her face and she looked up at Della. “What happened? Where am I? Please don’t leave me.”
The sound of Della's voice speaking so loudly brought us out of the building where we had been working. We were perhaps a hundred and fifty feet away, and when we saw the sight of Della helping Marcia to her feet and Kitty waving her arms, we ran to help. Marcia was escorted back into the house where she laid down on the sofa.
I grabbed my guitar (I rarely travel without it) and began to worship the Lord. The rest joined with me, and we worshiped for perhaps 45 minutes. Marcia got to her feet, shook herself and said, “Wow! I feel great!” Later that same afternoon, we all went hiking up into the mountains. Except for some bruising on her face and the side of her head that disappeared within a couple of days, you would never have known that anything untoward had happened.
I wish I could take the time to tell you of Della’s songwriting, her scripture songs, her singing, her playing the keyboards, her preaching, her authority in God, her strong stance with all of our children -- including my four from my first marriage who are as much Della's as mine -- and how they’ve come to admire and depend on her. It would fill many books.
Then she looked down at Marcia and simply spoke her name – loudly, of course, “MARCIA !!”
Marcia’s eyes opened, color flooded her face and she looked up at Della. “What happened? Where am I? Please don’t leave me.”
The sound of Della's voice speaking so loudly brought us out of the building where we had been working. We were perhaps a hundred and fifty feet away, and when we saw the sight of Della helping Marcia to her feet and Kitty waving her arms, we ran to help. Marcia was escorted back into the house where she laid down on the sofa.
I grabbed my guitar (I rarely travel without it) and began to worship the Lord. The rest joined with me, and we worshiped for perhaps 45 minutes. Marcia got to her feet, shook herself and said, “Wow! I feel great!” Later that same afternoon, we all went hiking up into the mountains. Except for some bruising on her face and the side of her head that disappeared within a couple of days, you would never have known that anything untoward had happened.
I wish I could take the time to tell you of Della’s songwriting, her scripture songs, her singing, her playing the keyboards, her preaching, her authority in God, her strong stance with all of our children -- including my four from my first marriage who are as much Della's as mine -- and how they’ve come to admire and depend on her. It would fill many books.
Della
was careful with the four children from my first marriage (including two who
were adopted), all of whom were a bit older than her four, not to try and come
between them and their mother, and to ensure that they honored her. In fact, in now failing health, they have
been diligent about caring for her and seeing to her needs.
Oops! I almost forgot one thing: the bottle. Psalm 56:8 says, "Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?"
There has long been a tradition at Jewish weddings in which they take a glass after they have drunk together and smashed the glass. It comes from an ancient tradition of smashing a bottle at a wedding. The bottle represented the tears of the bride in the years before her wedding -- tears shed from suffering, tears shed from awaiting the coming of her Beloved.
When she and I were married, the Lord spoke to Della and reminded her of the bottle. He said to her, "I have thrown away all your tears. They are gone forever." For a wedding gift, Della made me a diamond and gold nugget tie tac. It is shaped as a tear, and it is a constant reminder of the promise of the Lord. I made an identical pendant for Della to wear on a necklace.
Oops! I almost forgot one thing: the bottle. Psalm 56:8 says, "Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?"
There has long been a tradition at Jewish weddings in which they take a glass after they have drunk together and smashed the glass. It comes from an ancient tradition of smashing a bottle at a wedding. The bottle represented the tears of the bride in the years before her wedding -- tears shed from suffering, tears shed from awaiting the coming of her Beloved.
When she and I were married, the Lord spoke to Della and reminded her of the bottle. He said to her, "I have thrown away all your tears. They are gone forever." For a wedding gift, Della made me a diamond and gold nugget tie tac. It is shaped as a tear, and it is a constant reminder of the promise of the Lord. I made an identical pendant for Della to wear on a necklace.
In
the Song of Solomon, Chapter 1, Verse 5, there is a unique Hebrew metaphor that
most people miss entirely, and I've yet to find it shared in any
translation. The verse begins, "I
am black..."
That statement has nothing whatever to do with the color of the Shulamite's skin. It is rooted in the understanding that God has created a counterpart -- an "other self" so to speak -- for each person, one who fulfils and completes them in the same way that Eve fulfilled and completed Adam. The statement, "I am black," comes from the weariness from the search for that one who will complete -- and the statement applies to both men and women. We see Jeremiah using the same statement on God's behalf as He speaks of the search for His people. (See Jeremiah 8:21)
That statement has nothing whatever to do with the color of the Shulamite's skin. It is rooted in the understanding that God has created a counterpart -- an "other self" so to speak -- for each person, one who fulfils and completes them in the same way that Eve fulfilled and completed Adam. The statement, "I am black," comes from the weariness from the search for that one who will complete -- and the statement applies to both men and women. We see Jeremiah using the same statement on God's behalf as He speaks of the search for His people. (See Jeremiah 8:21)
For
coming up on 32 years, Della Denise Capener has been my wife. She is my counterpart, my other self. I tell her constantly that she is the best
gift the Lord has ever given me. She
completes me. She makes me a whole
person. And she is the Gift of God to
more folks than I can count. There isn’t
a day that passes that I don’t thank the Lord for her.
I remind those of you
in need of healing of our Healing Prayer Call on Mondays at 7:00 PM
Eastern. Once again, the number to call
for prayer is (805) 399-1000. Then enter
the access code: 124763#. Also want to
let you know that our Sunday worship gatherings are available by conference
call – usually at about 10:45AM Pacific.
That conference number is (559) 726-1300, and the access code is
308640#.
Blessings on you!
Regner
Regner A. Capener
CAPENER MINISTRIES
CAPENER MINISTRIES
RIVER WORSHIP CENTER
Sunnyside, Washington 98944
Sunnyside, Washington 98944
Email Contact: Admin@RiverWorshipCenter.org
Our book, A
Tale of Two Brides, published by Destiny Image, is available on
Amazon.com as an E-book: http://www.amazon.com/Tale-Two-Brides-Relationship-ebook/dp/B00BSV6HZC/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1363139096&sr=8-8&keywords=A+Tale+of+Two+Brides#_
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copying or re-use, in whole or in part, is granted –provided proper attribution
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Monday, February 16, 2015
Another
Coffee Break:
Della Denise, Part 1
February 13, 2015
During
the next couple of weeks, while I'm preparing the next series of Coffee Breaks
on the character and nature of the Lord Jesus Christ being worked in us, I'd
like to reprise a couple of stories that I shared some ten years ago when first
beginning these Coffee Breaks.
Many
years ago, Readers' Digest used to do a series of pieces titled, "My Most
Unforgettable Person." This week's
(and next week's) article is about the most remarkable, and the most
astonishing woman I've ever known -- my wife, Della. I know she gets a bit self-conscious when I
start talking about her, and she is very self-deprecating, but if ever there
was a gift from the Lord for me, it is this counterpart -- my other self --
Della Denise Capener.
Born
sixty years ago as Della Denise Melson on January 1, 1955, she was born into an
Okie family transplanted to Washington State.
I’m not using the word in a negative sense. Her family had lived in
Granite, Oklahoma for a couple of generations after leaving Tennessee, Kentucky
and Virginia.
At the age of four, Della began to have experiences of seeing angels. That same year, she had a unique experience one night when the Lord Jesus Christ visited her. What made this particular night so different was that the Lord also appeared to her mother that night and said to her, “I’m coming to take Della for myself.”
At the age of four, Della began to have experiences of seeing angels. That same year, she had a unique experience one night when the Lord Jesus Christ visited her. What made this particular night so different was that the Lord also appeared to her mother that night and said to her, “I’m coming to take Della for myself.”
Her
mother was almost panic-stricken because she interpreted what the Lord was
saying to her to mean that Della was going to die that night. It took some struggling in her spirit before
she released her daughter and said, “OK,” to the Lord.
As the Lord awakened Della, He told her to follow Him. She jumped out of bed and followed Him outside the house where, to her utter astonishment, she saw a ship. Now you have to understand just how strange this sight was. There are no huge rivers or lakes in the Yakima Valley in Washington such that one would expect to see a ship. She couldn't quite figure out what she was seeing, and why this ship was there, but she followed the call of the Lord up the large fishing net hung over the side. Just before reaching the deck, the Lord turned to her and said, "Don't forget your bottle." She remembered a glass bottle on the mantle of the fireplace that was her special bottle.
Again, the command didn't make sense, but she wasn't questioning it. She climbed back down the gangplank and back into the house to get the bottle. When she got back outside with the bottle, she realized the ship was getting ready to leave and shouted, "Lord, don't leave without me!" She ran for all she was worth and leaped up on the hanging fish net as it was being pulled back on the ship. Out of breath, she handed the bottle to the Lord. He thereupon took the bottle and threw it as hard as he could so that it vanished in the darkness. Then Jesus turned to her, took her by the hand, and said, "Come and enter in! Now everything will be all right."
In the years that followed, the experience was so real that Della was never sure whether it actually happened or whether she had a dream. More than 20 years elapsed before she understood what had happened. Important foundations were laid in her life that she would need in the coming years. In the years to come, the Lord would remind her of the bottle -- and its significance.
As the Lord awakened Della, He told her to follow Him. She jumped out of bed and followed Him outside the house where, to her utter astonishment, she saw a ship. Now you have to understand just how strange this sight was. There are no huge rivers or lakes in the Yakima Valley in Washington such that one would expect to see a ship. She couldn't quite figure out what she was seeing, and why this ship was there, but she followed the call of the Lord up the large fishing net hung over the side. Just before reaching the deck, the Lord turned to her and said, "Don't forget your bottle." She remembered a glass bottle on the mantle of the fireplace that was her special bottle.
Again, the command didn't make sense, but she wasn't questioning it. She climbed back down the gangplank and back into the house to get the bottle. When she got back outside with the bottle, she realized the ship was getting ready to leave and shouted, "Lord, don't leave without me!" She ran for all she was worth and leaped up on the hanging fish net as it was being pulled back on the ship. Out of breath, she handed the bottle to the Lord. He thereupon took the bottle and threw it as hard as he could so that it vanished in the darkness. Then Jesus turned to her, took her by the hand, and said, "Come and enter in! Now everything will be all right."
In the years that followed, the experience was so real that Della was never sure whether it actually happened or whether she had a dream. More than 20 years elapsed before she understood what had happened. Important foundations were laid in her life that she would need in the coming years. In the years to come, the Lord would remind her of the bottle -- and its significance.
Della
has no specific recollection of when it began, but she remembers being on the
swing in the back yard during her very young years, singing in the spirit and
speaking in tongues as though it was the most normal thing to do. At age eight, in the midst of a revival at
the church where the family attended, there was a controversy that erupted over
speaking in tongues. When some of the
adults heard then-eight-year-old Della speaking in tongues, it changed things
radically and an outpouring of Holy Spirit loosed that congregation from its
religious bondage.
Until she was twelve years of age, she had several more experiences with the Lord in which He made clear to her the fact that He would never leave her nor forsake her. Good thing, too, because she was about to go through a living nightmare that would last for some 14 years.
Until she was twelve years of age, she had several more experiences with the Lord in which He made clear to her the fact that He would never leave her nor forsake her. Good thing, too, because she was about to go through a living nightmare that would last for some 14 years.
In
her early teens, Della Denise began to experience the rebellion that so many
young people go through. At age
fourteen, under the influence of drugs, she concluded that she really didn’t
belong to her parents and decided to strike out on her own. A young man who she decided she was in love
with had left for Missouri, so she decided to hitchhike to see him.
Bad decision.
She was picked up by a 25-year-old man (whom I will refer to simply as Daniel). He figured things out pretty quickly and took advantage of her youth, innocence, and rebellion. Using the argument that, "I can't live without you," and making her feel sorry for him, he compelled her to go with him and agree to marry him. We won’t try to figure out how he pulled that one off without being seized by the Law and thrown in prison, but under threats of physical harm she stayed quiet and eventually settled into some semblance of married life. “Daniel” was never prosecuted for his crimes.
It isn’t necessary to go into the horrors of the next fourteen years, the abuses she suffered, the constant betrayal by “Daniel’s” affairs with other women or his illicit drug distribution and hiding from the Law. What is important is that, at age eighteen, her youthful experiences with the Lord began to take effect. She had left Washington to move to Alaska where her father was working with his construction business. In Fairbanks for a few short months, her father suddenly dropped dead one day of a heart attack. He was 47 years old. The loss was traumatic.
Now the mother of a young baby girl, she began to attend a church in hopes of reconnecting with that same Jesus she had known as a child. It was late in 1973 or early in 1974. Baby Shelley was very ill. She couldn’t walk. Her legs were crooked. She had an extreme case of colic. She came down with a fever that just got worse and worse.
Della’s family doctor had told her that the baby needed to be hospitalized, but they had no insurance and feared the financial impact of the doctor and hospital bills. Shelley’s temperature continued to rise. On a Sunday morning, Della took the baby’s temperature, and it was 106. She got dressed, got Shelley dressed, and took her to the church where she had begun to attend. It seemed like she had to go through an army of folks who tried to slow her down, but eventually she stood in front of the pastor with the baby in her arms. Shelley was unconscious, lying limp and motionless. “Pastor, my baby is dying. I need for you to pray for her.”
The pastor gently took Shelley into his arms and began to rebuke the fever. He spoke healing as he prayed. As he held the baby, Shelley’s legs straightened in front of their eyes. The fever dropped instantly. She opened her eyes and looked around, alert for the first time in so long Della couldn’t remember. It was a major turning point for Della.
Bad decision.
She was picked up by a 25-year-old man (whom I will refer to simply as Daniel). He figured things out pretty quickly and took advantage of her youth, innocence, and rebellion. Using the argument that, "I can't live without you," and making her feel sorry for him, he compelled her to go with him and agree to marry him. We won’t try to figure out how he pulled that one off without being seized by the Law and thrown in prison, but under threats of physical harm she stayed quiet and eventually settled into some semblance of married life. “Daniel” was never prosecuted for his crimes.
It isn’t necessary to go into the horrors of the next fourteen years, the abuses she suffered, the constant betrayal by “Daniel’s” affairs with other women or his illicit drug distribution and hiding from the Law. What is important is that, at age eighteen, her youthful experiences with the Lord began to take effect. She had left Washington to move to Alaska where her father was working with his construction business. In Fairbanks for a few short months, her father suddenly dropped dead one day of a heart attack. He was 47 years old. The loss was traumatic.
Now the mother of a young baby girl, she began to attend a church in hopes of reconnecting with that same Jesus she had known as a child. It was late in 1973 or early in 1974. Baby Shelley was very ill. She couldn’t walk. Her legs were crooked. She had an extreme case of colic. She came down with a fever that just got worse and worse.
Della’s family doctor had told her that the baby needed to be hospitalized, but they had no insurance and feared the financial impact of the doctor and hospital bills. Shelley’s temperature continued to rise. On a Sunday morning, Della took the baby’s temperature, and it was 106. She got dressed, got Shelley dressed, and took her to the church where she had begun to attend. It seemed like she had to go through an army of folks who tried to slow her down, but eventually she stood in front of the pastor with the baby in her arms. Shelley was unconscious, lying limp and motionless. “Pastor, my baby is dying. I need for you to pray for her.”
The pastor gently took Shelley into his arms and began to rebuke the fever. He spoke healing as he prayed. As he held the baby, Shelley’s legs straightened in front of their eyes. The fever dropped instantly. She opened her eyes and looked around, alert for the first time in so long Della couldn’t remember. It was a major turning point for Della.
Two
years later, a similar event would occur with daughter number two. Danielle was born stone deaf. She couldn't hear or respond to the loudest
noises around her. Within days, Della
realized that something was wrong. At
Danielle's first post-natal checkup at one week old, Della took her to the
regional audiologist for testing.
The reports showed no responses whatever to sounds at 120 db in her ears. For those who don’t understand the significance of 120 db, 108 db is classified as “concert level” for music. 116 db is the noise of a steam locomotive. Each 3 db represents a doubling in sound pressure level. Thus, 120 db was well over twice the noise level of a steam locomotive. The audiologist told Della that Danielle was stone deaf, and that she’d better start learning sign language immediately because that was how she was going to have to communicate with her daughter.
The promises of God made in her youth rang in Della’s entire being. She absolutely refused to accept the diagnosis and demanded additional tests. The doctor shook his head sympathetically saying, “It won’t make any difference. However, you bring her back each month, and we’ll conduct more tests.” The testing went on for seven continuous months.
An appointed (by the Lord) day came at the seventh month, and Della brought friends along because she was sure the Lord was going to heal Danielle. They sat down together in the testing room and the doctor placed Danielle in his lap. There had been absolutely no indication of any change in Danielle. Della whispered to the doctor, "OK, Keith! Let's do the tests in a room where there is no sound whatever." Suddenly, Danielle turned and looked at her. The audiologist shook his head. "Can't be. This was an involuntary reaction -- perhaps to air movement on her face when you spoke." Della began to laugh. She knew what had happened.
This time, the doctor whispered very quietly in Danielle’s opposite ear. She turned to see where the sound was coming from. Now the doctor was frustrated. This just couldn’t be! All of his previous tests had been run using standardized testing techniques. They had proved conclusively that Danielle was deaf. Again, he whispered in the other ear, and again, Danielle responded. Della’s friends were standing on the other side of the glass watching things unfold, along with a couple of nurses.
Tears began to run down their faces as they realized that the Lord had healed Danielle right while she sat in the doctor’s lap. All of the tests were re-run again. This time, the results showed that her hearing was better than perfect. She could hear sounds so faint the overwhelming majority of folks never hear.
Despite the birth of two more children during the next four years, Della’s “marriage” continued to deteriorate. The abuse towards Della had never gotten really physical until he made two attempts on her life. It had reached monumental proportions emotionally and mentally. Unfortunately, the abuse had also gotten physical with the children. She realized that if he succeeded in killing her there would be no one to care for the children. Because of the breakdown of the marriage, her children had become the focal point of her life. The children were her life! A day finally came when “Daniel” agreed with Della that they needed to get a divorce and go their separate ways.
It was late in 1982. I was President of the Christian Broadcasting Network of Alaska, as well as overseeing the development of Operation Blessing for the state and pastoring a new fellowship in Fairbanks called The House of Praise. The CBN operations had begun to be moved from Barrow to Fairbanks two years earlier. Separation and divorce was in the making from my first wife who had recently left for the third time in our married years. The duress from the persecution and constant threats on our lives in Barrow had far exceeded her breaking point, and she wanted no more of the ministry.
The reports showed no responses whatever to sounds at 120 db in her ears. For those who don’t understand the significance of 120 db, 108 db is classified as “concert level” for music. 116 db is the noise of a steam locomotive. Each 3 db represents a doubling in sound pressure level. Thus, 120 db was well over twice the noise level of a steam locomotive. The audiologist told Della that Danielle was stone deaf, and that she’d better start learning sign language immediately because that was how she was going to have to communicate with her daughter.
The promises of God made in her youth rang in Della’s entire being. She absolutely refused to accept the diagnosis and demanded additional tests. The doctor shook his head sympathetically saying, “It won’t make any difference. However, you bring her back each month, and we’ll conduct more tests.” The testing went on for seven continuous months.
An appointed (by the Lord) day came at the seventh month, and Della brought friends along because she was sure the Lord was going to heal Danielle. They sat down together in the testing room and the doctor placed Danielle in his lap. There had been absolutely no indication of any change in Danielle. Della whispered to the doctor, "OK, Keith! Let's do the tests in a room where there is no sound whatever." Suddenly, Danielle turned and looked at her. The audiologist shook his head. "Can't be. This was an involuntary reaction -- perhaps to air movement on her face when you spoke." Della began to laugh. She knew what had happened.
This time, the doctor whispered very quietly in Danielle’s opposite ear. She turned to see where the sound was coming from. Now the doctor was frustrated. This just couldn’t be! All of his previous tests had been run using standardized testing techniques. They had proved conclusively that Danielle was deaf. Again, he whispered in the other ear, and again, Danielle responded. Della’s friends were standing on the other side of the glass watching things unfold, along with a couple of nurses.
Tears began to run down their faces as they realized that the Lord had healed Danielle right while she sat in the doctor’s lap. All of the tests were re-run again. This time, the results showed that her hearing was better than perfect. She could hear sounds so faint the overwhelming majority of folks never hear.
Despite the birth of two more children during the next four years, Della’s “marriage” continued to deteriorate. The abuse towards Della had never gotten really physical until he made two attempts on her life. It had reached monumental proportions emotionally and mentally. Unfortunately, the abuse had also gotten physical with the children. She realized that if he succeeded in killing her there would be no one to care for the children. Because of the breakdown of the marriage, her children had become the focal point of her life. The children were her life! A day finally came when “Daniel” agreed with Della that they needed to get a divorce and go their separate ways.
It was late in 1982. I was President of the Christian Broadcasting Network of Alaska, as well as overseeing the development of Operation Blessing for the state and pastoring a new fellowship in Fairbanks called The House of Praise. The CBN operations had begun to be moved from Barrow to Fairbanks two years earlier. Separation and divorce was in the making from my first wife who had recently left for the third time in our married years. The duress from the persecution and constant threats on our lives in Barrow had far exceeded her breaking point, and she wanted no more of the ministry.
Have
to say that because of the way God has led me throughout the years, I seem to
have always been on the edge of (or over the edge!) of controversy. Being active in the ministry of deliverance
during the 70's, 80's and 90's made me a focal point of religious controversy
and contention because of a religious doctrine within some denominations or
groups suggesting that Christians can't be afflicted by evil spirits.
That
said, I’m not throwing rocks at my first wife.
She had endured things (including assassination attempts on my life as
well as multiple assaults, seizure and beating of our children by
"strangers" who sought to drive me from the area) that would have
taken lesser women to the Looney bin.
And, to be perfectly honest, she'd never been called to the
ministry. Her marriage to me placed her
in situations she'd never been equipped by the Lord to deal with.
Della had joined the CBN operation in late 1981 and become the administrator for a social services program we called Operation Blessing – Alaska. It was an outgrowth of the program Pat Robertson had begun in Virginia Beach, Virginia with the national CBN ministry. Over the span of a couple years, Della had become my closest confidant and the best friend I’d ever had in my life. I remember sitting in an Aglow prayer meeting and watching her responses to the concerns of women, and seeing the depth of spiritual wisdom God had built in her. I trusted that -- and do to this day!
One day, she brought her four children to me and asked me to pray over them. While I was praying for them, the Lord spoke to me and said, "I'm going to give these children to you, and I want you to be a father to them." That was different! I began to argue with the Lord. "But, Lord, they already have a father!"
Della had joined the CBN operation in late 1981 and become the administrator for a social services program we called Operation Blessing – Alaska. It was an outgrowth of the program Pat Robertson had begun in Virginia Beach, Virginia with the national CBN ministry. Over the span of a couple years, Della had become my closest confidant and the best friend I’d ever had in my life. I remember sitting in an Aglow prayer meeting and watching her responses to the concerns of women, and seeing the depth of spiritual wisdom God had built in her. I trusted that -- and do to this day!
One day, she brought her four children to me and asked me to pray over them. While I was praying for them, the Lord spoke to me and said, "I'm going to give these children to you, and I want you to be a father to them." That was different! I began to argue with the Lord. "But, Lord, they already have a father!"
He
answered me as clearly as I've ever heard him.
"No, "Daniel" doesn't have the ability to be a
father. I want you to be their
father." I wasn't quite sure how to
take that, or even how in the world the Lord would effect it practically.
It was only a matter of six or seven months before Della and I found ourselves exchanging marriage vows with each other. It isn’t necessary to get into the developments that led to our marriage. We both experienced some back-to-back-to-back events that clearly demonstrated to both of us that the Lord was putting us together. Complete strangers who had no idea of what they were saying delivered confirming words from the Lord to both of us. Because of the controversy that would erupt over the proximity of our divorces and prospective remarriage to each other, the Lord had spoken to Della one day and said, "I'm going to confirm this union to you so many times and in so many ways that you'll be sick of the confirmations."
It was only a matter of six or seven months before Della and I found ourselves exchanging marriage vows with each other. It isn’t necessary to get into the developments that led to our marriage. We both experienced some back-to-back-to-back events that clearly demonstrated to both of us that the Lord was putting us together. Complete strangers who had no idea of what they were saying delivered confirming words from the Lord to both of us. Because of the controversy that would erupt over the proximity of our divorces and prospective remarriage to each other, the Lord had spoken to Della one day and said, "I'm going to confirm this union to you so many times and in so many ways that you'll be sick of the confirmations."
He
did! And it was a good thing, too!
For
those people who know Della today, and those who knew her 30 years ago, there
isn't anyone who will argue that she has undergone a transition in her
personality that's nothing less than dramatic.
There were many things that would contribute to that change, and being
thrust into the jewelry business was certainly one of them, but we often laugh
about the fact that one of my fellow-broadcasters back in the mid-to-late
1980's referred to Della as "Mouse Knuckles."
He,
of course, only saw her on the surface, and not from a spiritual perspective,
but Della was quite retiring and quiet when we first got married. Being in sales certainly helped to draw her
out, but the spiritual challenges that unfolded in the early years of our
marriage, and the overcoming of those challenges coupled with seeing God's
miraculous intervention time after time after time developed a holy boldness
that has only increased with the years.
Some
three and a half years after we had been married, Della's children (they were
definitely MY children as well -- the Lord had seen to that!) were kidnapped
out of our front yard by their biological father and spirited out of the state
within hours. No event I can think of is
more emotionally wrenching to any parent, and Della was no exception.
Sorry
to leave you with a cliffhanger, but this is where I'll leave it for
today. We'll finish this narrative next
week.
I remind those of you
in need of healing of our Healing Prayer Call on Mondays at 7:00 PM
Eastern. Once again, the number to call
for prayer is (805) 399-1000. Then enter
the access code: 124763#. Also want to let
you know that our Sunday worship gatherings are available by conference call –
usually at about 10:45AM Pacific. That
conference number is (559) 726-1300, and the access code is 308640#.
Blessings on you!
Regner
Regner A. Capener
CAPENER MINISTRIES
CAPENER MINISTRIES
RIVER WORSHIP CENTER
Sunnyside, Washington 98944
Sunnyside, Washington 98944
Email Contact: Admin@RiverWorshipCenter.org
Our book, A
Tale of Two Brides, published by Destiny Image, is available on
Amazon.com as an E-book: http://www.amazon.com/Tale-Two-Brides-Relationship-ebook/dp/B00BSV6HZC/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1363139096&sr=8-8&keywords=A+Tale+of+Two+Brides#_
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and this notice are included intact. Older Coffee Break archives are available
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CAPENER MINISTRIES is a tax-exempt church ministry.
Should you desire to participate and covenant with us as partners in this
ministry, please contact us at either of the above email or physical addresses,
or visit: http://www.RiverWorshipCenter.org.
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