OMI
JER1730
CHRISTIAN TELEVISION
FOR THOSE WHO MOURN GENERAL ARTICLES THE MACON PROJECT VIDEO

SUPERNATURAL SIGNS AND EXPERIENCES

Click Below

THE STIGMATA CAUGHT AWAY
PHOTOGRAPH
HANDS OF FIRE
PHOTOGRAPH
THE PROPHETIC PILLAR OF FIRE
PHOTOGRAPH
TWENTY YEAR CYCLE
AUDIBLE VOICE TRANSLATED LION'S DEN
MY STORY
MILKY HAZE BUSTED  TRAIN TRESTLE
MARK CHIRONNA
PROPHECY - VIDEO
GERRY'S TESTIMONY MY CREDENTIALS

TO SEE
THE PILLAR OF FIRE PHOTO
CLICK IMAGE BELOW
PILLAR
To read about
THE TENT MINISTRY

Click Here

"HANDS OF FIRE"

CLICK IMAGE FOR
THE HANDS OF FIRE STORY
AND PHOTOGRAPH


HANDS OF FIRE PHOTO






"Busted"

As many  know who are familiar with my testimony, I was saved at the age of four at an old fashion tent meeting. It was one of the last tent meetings renowned Pentecostal evangelist Jack Coe would hold before his death a few months later. Sadly, I turned away from church in my very early teens. But God never turned away from me. Oh the stories I could tell of my encounters with Him during my rebellion. As it is written, where ever I ran, when I arrived He was already there.

One incident comes to mind that occured at an old cottage where I once lived. It needed service contractor work, so my landlord hired someone to do the job. Three men came out, and one of them was a short slight bald-headed man. He looked like Brother William Branham (BroBran). This man scared me. His face glowed; not just a healthy glow, I mean his face shined! In fact, there was a glow that radiated from his entire body. The hippies and eastern religious guys would've called it an aura. Like Moses, this man's face shone, yet he gave no clue that he was aware it. He had such a countenance of peace and kindness. If someone made a movie of William Branham; this guy could play BroBran; without having to spend a dime on make up or wardrobe. In fact, he looked so much like BroBran he could have used BroBran's photo ID to sign and cash his checks in his own hometown.

For years, much like Jonah, I had been running from the presence of the Lord; and for several weeks I had been under heavy Holy Spirit convicition. So I didn't know whether this man might be an angel of the Lord, or what. But he generally scared me. I can still see it though it was nearly fifty years ago.

Growing up in the Pentecostal church, more than once I had seen the ambulance back up the those old double doors in front of the church. I watched as attendants strapped some hypocrite to a gurney and hauled them away to the hospital. The Ananias and Sapphira experience was not theory to us, or based on some ancient story of days gone by, like some fairy tale. So I steered clear of this transfigured man. I was afraid to come near him or touch him! I am very serious here. 

Since before I was old enough to drive, I had experienced playing in some very rough honky-tonks. By age eighteen, I'd had loaded guns pulled on me by jealous men; at least three times. But this man scared me way worse than any of those bar-room experiences. 

So I believe I made up an excuse to run an errand, or something. I left them there to do what they needed to do and said, "lock up when you leave!" Later that day, I kept riding past the house to see if they were gone yet. I wanted to be sure they were gone before I'd dare go back there. Anyone who knew me back then, knows how out of character that was for me to leave ANYONE alone at my house. But that day, I was gettin' the heck out of Dodge until this glowing man was gone. I was on the run from God and knew it; truthfully I was running like a scared rabbit.

More and more it seemed, everywhere I turned God was calling me back. Every book I'd read seemed to have scripture references and illustrations about God. Every song I'd hear on the radio, somehow I could interpret some inner cry for God's help and mercy, pouring from the soul of the singer. At least that's what I read and heard from all of it.

I found out later that my mother had been calling various ministries for prayer, and setting herself in agreement with them for my deliverance and restoration. Parents, don't forget that! You may want to do the same, to pray any wayward children back home.

The Drug Party

Then one Saturday night a drug dealer I knew was having a party at his home. He lived in the edge of the Everglades. He had a smorgasbord of drugs and alchohol for his guests. All night long everyone was talking a mile a minute, wired and stoned to the max. But God had been reeling me back in for a while, so I'd been under Holy Spirit conviction for several weeks. It seemed like all I could think or talk about was Jesus. That was all that occupied my mind. As the Psalmist wrote, where ever I ran, "HE" was there. 

I suppose to counter my excessive "Jesus talk", satan had everyone else there tell of their beliefs, Hindu, Self Realization Fellowship, I Ching, and even one old boy there allegedly worshiped the devil.

But as they spoke of philosophy, theory, and various world religious systems, I spoke of Jesus Christ, His power and authority, and the supernatural experiences I had witnessed as a boy. Sitting there stoned and wired, talking 90 miles a minute, I must have shared every one of my childhood experiences. I don't remember for sure, but I must have told them of the young man I personally knew from a Pentecoastal church who had been stricken with polio from his youth; we'll call him Carlton (not his real name).

One Friday night, I was riding around doing some under-age drinking with some school buddies. We happened upon an old fashion Pentecostal tent meeting. Something inside made me insist we stop and go inside. Finally, reluctantly they agreed. When we went in the power of God ws moving. These guys look on with eyes the size of silver dollars. Their only experience was with civilized church services. They had never seen anything like this. But I was used to it, I realized I missed it, it felt like home to me. I saw faces I knew from childhood. I saw Carlton arise from the crowd. He was still afflicted with the polio symptoms, but still standing in faith for his healing! 

Suddenly, as Carlton stood to his feet he began to forcefully take off his leg braces. I watched him begin to hobble from his seat, stepping out in faith. Then the power of God struck him, he took off trying his best to run until at last he was running through the tent. With the look he had on his face, he might as well have been an Olympic sprinter crossing the finish line, going for the gold; he did all of that in front of a couple of thousand witnesses. I heard one of the guys I was with mumble something like, "I'm gettin' the hell out of here!" So we left, forthwith.

I feel reasonable sure I must have told my fellow partiers of what I witnessed with Calrton.

Those space cadets at the party must have thought I was either lying, wearing a foil helmet, or just stoned slap crazy out of my mind; with all the sthings I was saying. Because I remember them gazing at me with their vacant stares; like I was from Mars. At last, it was 4AM, Sunday morning, and the party had wound down, and it ended. The host gave each attendee a parting gift of buds and dust. So I climbed into my old truck and headed home. 

As I drove down the winding dirt road, I thought of the myriad of conversations I had listened to. I thought of all the stuff that had gushed out of me. I wondered, where did all that come from? In my hippie affected jargon I thought to myself, "Woooow maaan! I probably talked more about Jesus at that party than most preachers will tell in their churches this morning". Then, as that silly thought sunk in; a seriousness overwhlemed me. I wondered, how I could have gone so far away from God's will? That was why I didn't like being alone. When alone, the guy in the mirror always asked me hard to answer questions like, "what about the Lord Jesus?" 

Today as I reflect on those times, I see that like Jonah, I really was running from the presence of the Lord. Now, I can see how I had gotten ensnared so often without even knowing it. I was always on high alert being very careful not to ever commit a Judas offense, or blasphemy of the Holy Spirit, or an Ananias and Sapphira kind of offense. But being too self-assured, I let my guard down for so many other transgressions against God. My diligence in one area, became my weakness in another, until at last I got ensnared. That same demon spirit that caught hold of Simon Peter; the one that made him deny our Lord Jesus Christ, ensnared me. Certainly, I never denied my Lord Jesus Christ affirmatively by word, as Peter did. That's not what I mean here.

Like Peter, I had witnessed the Christ, had tasted of the miraculous, and had been partaker of the supernatural world to come. But in moments of extreme weakness (usually being drunk or stoned), the enemy would bring me to a place where he would remind me of those old fiery Pentecostal sermons; and I'd start believing I had drifted too far from God to ever come back home. He would tell me that God's grace had now escaped me. 

Like Peter, fearing I had lost my Lord, I was consumed with a crippling fear. I feared rejection by the only ones I felt I had left (so-called friends). So I was trying to be accepted by this new crowd. In those moments of dispair, I believed this new crowd was the only one I was worthy to hang out with anymore. Surely, no church would ever accept me. In my mind, I was unworthy to set foot in a church. I perceived these as "my new peers". So like Peter, I was on a quest to prove to them that I was "one of them". 

A perusal look at all four gospel accounts of Peter's denial, shows that it came in three successive stages. Each stage increased in intensity, and each descended to a deeper level of darkness. The repetitious practice of any sin produces predictable results. Each time one commits a sinful act, the next time it gets a little easier, until at last is becomes effortless. The maxim is true, practice makes perfect; and sin is no exception. In fact, if a perpetual sinful practice is not arrested, it will progressively evolve into a habit that comes as natural and involuntary as breathing. This is part of satan's strategy; capitalize on human nature.

In my case, I got into some wild and bizarre behavior. Like Peter, I tried to "blend in" by looking like them, dressing like them. As with Peter, if that didn't work, I tried "talking like them", the jargon, the dirty jokes, even "cursing like them". If that didn't work, I'd get competitive and be tougher than them, live more dangerously than them, do more outrageous acts than them, and out do them in every way; including partying, drugs, and sex. I confess these things with tremendous shame and humiliation.

This wasn't just because of my foolish unbridled youth, it was something beyond that. It derived from a hopelessness driving me to get so stoned out of my mind, trying to escape the reality I so hated. But the demon driving me wanted me to be shackled to its jet-powered treadmill; and ultimately, to lure me into a lifestyle that would passively deny Christ. He knew he couldn't get me to deny Christ with my words, so he took aim at my weakness (rejection), just like he did with Peter. 

Peter's denial wasn't done with words alone. His words only confirmed what his acts were already screaming to the world around him. Peter's words of denial were not spoken from a heart that no longer loved Jesus Christ. His words were spoken out of his overwhelming hopelessness, and his crippling fear of man. How many times as a young boy had I judged Simon Peter for his denial. "How could he have done that", I'd say. Then those same demons outsmarted me. Now unknowingly, by my actions I was doing the same thing I had judged Simon Peter for doing with his words, i.e., denying Jesus Christ. My conduct was driven by the same ingredient as Peter's words, an overwhelming fear of man's rejection. Jesus' directive is true, "Judge not, lest you be judged!"

A man running from the presence of the Lord will do almost anything to escape facing the guy in the mirror. I surely did. During the entire time, I had no idea the spirit behind it all was primarily there to make me deny Jesus Christ as Lord! Ironically, I should have known because that is the antithesis of "...any spirit that confessess that Jesus is come in the flesh...."

So I did stupid daring dangerous things that I wish to God I'd never done; things so stupid I could have been killed. But even my most sinful acts were no match for the Blood of Jesus Christ! He forgave my sins and cleansed me of all unrighteousness. While I say these things to my utter shame; I proclaim my weaknesses and failures to the glory of my Lord Jesus Christ, who delivered me and saved me from ALL my foolish sins!

"...Therefore, I will glory with great rejoicing in my countless weaknessess, that His Shekinah Glory may tabernacle in me...for when I am weak (in me) I am strong (in Him)...."  II Corinthians 12:9 (my expanded translation).

But I digress....

Anyway, by the time this party was thrown, I had gone to a place so far from God, a place I never dreamed I would go; doing things I never thought I'd do; especially partying with such a high echelon in the drug world. How on earth did I get to this place? What had happened to me? Then I thought of how many times I had promised God if He wouldn't give up on me, I would find my way back home someday, and serve Him for the rest of my life. Why was I doing these things? Why couldn't I stop? I liked standing up and proclaiming Jesus Christ to those lost heathens! It felt good! It felt like home again; except that I felt dirty, actually I felt filthy. Because I knew I was filthy!

No Place to Turn

As I meandered down the dirt road, I finally reached a paved road that ran parallel with a deep canal. Typical of canals in the Glades, there was a steep bank about 45-degrees and about twenty to thirty feet high. So I had to drive carefully as there were no guard rails back in those days. 

It was narrow, dark, and extremely dangerous. As I drove along, suddenly I looked in my rear view mirror and there were police cars everywhere, with light bars lit up and flashing. My mind began racing. I couldn't believe I was being busted. Where could they have come from? How could so many of them sneak up on me like that, on a lonely one lane dirt road in the Glades? They couldn't have followed me from the party, I would have seen that. They couldn't have just driven out of the marshy swamp. Where did they all come from? What was I going to do? 

I had sat in court rooms, and watched drug cases proceed. Back then, when a prosecutor stood in court waving charging papers for even simple possession in a "White Powder Case"; to a Florida judge, that was like waving a red cape in front of an angry bull. 

Why didn't I listen all those times the Lord called me to come back home? Now I had no place to run. Deep canal filled with gators on one side, snake filled swamp on the other. With all the lights on me, if I threw my stash in the canal, they'd see it and retrieve it. That would only add to my charges. The only option left for me was to cry out to the Lord for mercy and help. So I did!

When I cried out the name "Jesus", the cops instantly vanished. My mirror went dark again. There was simultaneous relief, confusion, and awe over what had just happened? Though there was a certain calm, my heart was racing, and I was shaking. Did I hallucinate? Was it a vision? I slowed down, almost to a stop. Instantly, I was no longer wired and stoned, but cold sober; yet I couldn't stop trembling.

Then it seemed as if the spirit of the Lord came upon me and overshadowed me. In my youth, I had experienced His presence so many times before. As I sobbed uncontrollably, I reiterated that promise I had made since I was a young boy; "...Lord, please don't give up on me...I promise, someday I'll come home and serve You for the rest of my life...."; the same promise I had broken countless times. But this time was different! This time I cried out honestly to the Lord. This time there was no pretense about who I was, or what I was doing. I had in some way reached the end of myself. I knew I was filthy. I had nothing to bargain with, nothing left to offer for my guilt and shame but the blood of Jesus Christ!

I Couldn't Let Go

I still couldn't bring myself to dump the little drug stash. But for the next two weeks, I could hardly function, and I barely ate. I was 5'9" and wasted down to 125 pounds, or less. With thick flaming red hair to my waist, a beard four inches from my navel, I was a sight. No matter what I tried to do, I couldn't shake that experience. I reasoned it could not have been a hallucination since they are demonic. The devil is not going to send me something to scare, drive, or draw me back to the Lord Jesus Christ. Clearly, it was drawing me back; seemingly at the speed of light! 

NOTE: Today, reflecting back all those years ago, it seemed more like the visions men like Brother William Branham described. I have no doubt whatsoever that Brother Branham was the foremost authority in my lifetime on biblical visions; in fact more than anyone since the Ante Nicene era.

The devil had pulled out all of the stops; doing his best to tempt me. A couple of knuckle-heads I knew claimed they were planning a drug smuggling run; to Columbia of all places. These two clowns were always dreaming up schemes to make a quick easy fortune. But they couldn't plan breakfast, much less an operation like a major smuggling run to Columbia. As I think of it now nearly fifty years later, I chuckle when I picture what such a smuggling run might have looked like, had those two been able to carry it out. If I merely imagined it in black and white, it would look like a Laurel and Hardy movie. 

But what I did was equally absurd! I actually tried to bargain with God with this idea. If He would let me do just one run with those guys, I would have money to give to several ministries. Can you imagine that? Like God needed drug money to support His servants. But that's how far I had drifted. That's how darkened my soul had become, and how stupid my reasoning had become. Aside from the absurdity of considering doing anything as stupid as drug smuggling to begin with, then worse the idiocy of doing it with those two knuckle-heads; then the audacity of presenting it to our Holy God like some bargaining chip. My trying to get Him to cut me a deal is more than I can fathom today. I cannot believe I was ever that "non compos mentis". I am grateful He didn't allow any such deal; otherwise I might have been stuck in some Columbian prison to this day. Mark Twain was right asking, "Why must youth be wasted on the young?"

So thankfully there would be no bargains, no concessions, and no deals on the table. The terms of my surrender would simply be all or nothing.

THEN:  ...at 3 o'clock, on a Wednesday, 

in the south room of that two room cottage....

Anyone familiar with the testimony of Kenneth E. Hagin, knows what I meant by the above section title. It connotes an event so burned into one's memory, they can never forget it, even down to the minute detail; the arrangement of the furniture, everything! I especially remember WHERE I KNELT AND SURRENDERED! 

That Wednesday began early in the morning with my arguing with the Lord; and it ended with all the arguments bowing in defeat. The devil had just one last card to play. He said, "...how are you going to tell all your friends...they'll ditch you!...." That was a lifelong weakness with me; and that day it seemed like a mountain standing before me. Everyone needs friends. Many of these guys, I had known since elementary school. 

Finally, around three o'clock my very last words were, "Lord, if this doesn't work, I'm gonna go right back"; and then I let go of the reigns; suddenly, I collapsed to my knees. Then like an over-flowing dam that had breached its banks until at last it burst; everything gushed out of me. Massive wholesale catharsis ensued. Several years ago, my wife aptly named this process "Spiritual Detoxification". Then, it was as if the whole world was lifted off my shoulders; and finally, I was free! I hadn't been so free and clean since the Old Days among the Pentecostals, and my brethren in the Branham following. In fact, I don't know if I'd ever been that free in my life!

HOT DOG I GOT IT!

That day I learned experientially what Jack Coe meant by something he would say in those tent meetings, back when I was only four years old. Jack was a large man with a booming voice. When he "got happy" his voice thundered as he spoke of back when he received the Holy Spirit baptism, he'd get happy. The Spirit would come upon him, and he'd stomp all over the platform joyously recalling his experience. He loved to tell how one day while on his knees, travailing for the Holy Spirit baptism; the power of God hit him, and he lept to his feet, and began running and yelling...and the only words he could get out in English were, 'hot dog I got it! hot dog I got it! hot dog I got it!'"

Unless you've ever experienced one of those "got happy" Holy Ghost moments, what I'm describing is probably like Greek to you. 

When Jack would launch into that experience, the power would seem to fall upon the entire tent, and he'd call for anyone needing a healing or miracle. Then he'd say something like, "...if you have faith 'run' down here, 'quickly', and receive your healing...." As God's presence continued to intensify he'd say, "...even if you don't have any faith, come on down here anyway...I've got enough faith for all of us...come, quickly, run down here, now!...." Oh, how I miss those days! But I digress.

Something very similar hit me while on my knees that Wednesday afternoon; like a flash of lightning. I'm not cognizant of ever getting up from my knees. But when I came to myself, I was running through the house yelling and shouting praises, reminiscent of when Jack Coe would yell, "hot dog I got it! hot dog I got it!" Considering how I had been living, and some of the crowd I hung out with back then, it's a wonder that the neighbors didn't call the cops, thinking that all that yelling was someone beating me. 

When the Spirit lifted and I regained my composure, the first thing I did was run and grab the little stash. I took it to the toilet and flushed it where it had belonged all along! And so it was! 

Now, I have a song about that day entitled, I'm Back! The hook in the last line of the chorus is directed at satan himself, I got some bad news for you Jack, I'm Back!” 

The prodigal son had finally returned home; and though he was naked, filthy, tattered, and broken; when his Heavenly Father saw him coming, He ran to greet him while he yet a great distance away. HALLELUJAH!

Now I was really back, man was I ever back. In an instant I went from asking God "how am I going to tell my friends" to "which one of 'em can I tell first!" And tell them I did! I wore them out! I heard rumors that some of them were placing bets on me, even giving odds on how long I'd last. The Gerry they knew, following a religion? No way! Well, yes way! Not a religion, but an intimate relationship with my Lord Jesus Christ, confirmed with signs, wonders, and miracles. He proved to me He truly is Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever! AMEN!

BECAUSE HOT DOG I GOT IT!

Countless times, old friends in a pool room on Biscayne Boulevard had seen me witness Jesus Christ to hookers standing next to the street sign out front. So it became a sort of running joke, "...Gerry would witness to that street sign, if he can get it to listen to him...." Everywhere I'd go; restaurants, grocery stores, gun stores, tackle shops, pool halls, “Hooker Alley” on Biscayne Boulevard, where ever; the Lord would always open up an opportunity for me to witness, and then I would. It was glorious!

Whether you want to believe what I saw that night was a vision or a hallucination, matters not one iota to me. I believe it was a vision. What matters to me is, I came home to Jesus, and the experience I have shared here was instrumental in that process. 

AMEN!



Why I did not Share the Supernatural Signs, Photos, and Experiences

Thirty-two years ago


Sometimes people ask me, “why didn't you share these photos, and tell the people about these supernatural signs and experiences when you first came here?The obvious inference is that it would have enhanced my ministry here. That is probably correct. Had I exploited the sacred gifts, experiences, and signs God has given me, I probably could have avoided those 32-years of poverty, shame, and humiliation. But at what cost?

He did not give them to me to be merchandised. I should not be forced to choose between exploiting holy gifts, and poverty. No one should have to defile sacred things to get the church to do the right thing! What's the difference in that and prostitution?

God did not tell me I was allowed to make these things public, until recently. For me, it is better to be in obedience and endure the abject poverty, than to deliberately go out of His will in order to prosper. I can honestly say, there were times I thought of giving up; but never once was I tempted to exploit the signs, experiences, and photographs. Perhaps the following two part explanation will help.


First of all, the signs were for me, not for them. The “Burning Bush” was for Moses, not for Israel. Moses' “Hand” becoming leprous then being healed, Moses' “Rod” becoming a snake and again becoming a rod, and pouring water on the ground and it turning into "Blood", each were initially for Moses, not for Israel. Moses revealed these things to Israel much later, during the "Wilderness Experience". But they were initially given to Moses to help him believe enough to accept his commission from God; and to withstand when satan would test his faith to the extreme. Until recently, I was not given permission to share these experiences publicly.


Secondly, before I came here, the Lord gave me instructions on how I would know who has His Holy Spirit in them. He had placed His Spirit in me and confirmed that with supernatural signs. He did that for me, to confirm these things to me and in me. It was not for them, at that time.

He assured me that if they have His Holy Spirit in them, that Spirit will recognize who I am by the Spirit He placed in me. His Spirit will not repel His Spirit.

Those who know how the spirit operates understand what I'm saying here. This was demonstrated in Brother Branham's ministry, every time he ministered in the Spirit.

The Lord showed me if they repel me, never accept me, reject me, shun me, never allow me to get close, push me away, or any of those kinds of conduct, then His Holy Spirit is not in them; regardless of what they may claim, feel, or do.

That's another spirit in them that hates the Spirit He placed in me.

So that is how I'll know who they are, by how they respond to me; not by how they respond to seeing Him manifest supernatural signs through me. There's always a multitude ready to follow after the fishes and loaves. As throughout scripture, the signs were to be shown to the elect, in the wilderness.


Now I can just hear some critic arise, citing for example Paul's bitter dissension with Barnabas over Mark. I would say to Mr. or Mrs. Critic, remember in your current role that's all you are, is a critic. Contrary to what you may believe, the Holy Spirit did not prompt you with your criticism. He knows the truth. He's the One who revealed this to me. He's the One who confirmed it countless times with signs. Had “...the Spirit of Truth come....” to prompt you, that would have been to “...guide you into all truth....” My recommendation is to first get deliverance from all evils spirits, then seek the infilling of the Holy Spirit, and then ask “...the Comforter....”, and “...He will teach you all things....”


A few months after we moved here, the Lord gave me Ezekiel 33:30-33 as a pattern of what was to come. All these years later, He has vindicated me unquestionably as His servant, and as one of His prophets, just as promised. Over these three-plus decades, those verses He gave me in Ezekiel have unfolded like a blossom opens in spring. And just as that passage states, they “heard my words”, but would not do them; they made a “show of love”, but chased after covetousness; and I was to them as a “...song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument....” And just as He promised me, “...when this cometh to pass, (lo it will come,) then shall they know that a prophet hath been among them....” As they always have, those things I have prophesied over this place, and these people, will come to pass. Woe unto them who have not repented in that day!


The purpose for sharing these supernatural signs and experiences is not to boast, but to testify of Him! These signs and experiences are not to celebritize me, but to magnify Him! He gave them, and continues to give them, to vindicate me as His servant. Further, it is to show yet another reason why I am willing to repeatedly follow Him into the lion's den; and why I've been willing to endure the decades of extreme adversity, abject poverty, insults, humiliation, and public shame. I love Him!

Sixty years ago, He revealed Himself to me by His power and marked me as "His Property" with "His Stigmata". Forty years ago, He revealed Himself to me by snatching me away ("Caught Away") and engulfing me into His glorious Shekinah Presence, and similar to the Mount of Transfiguration account. Twenty years ago, He gave me a conditional promise of my full ministry and confirmed it by the "Hands of Fire" sign, which remains to this day. He has made me know experientially that ALL power and authority is in Him; and that nothing and no one can stand in His presence; no demon, no principality, no angel, no disease, no military force, nor satan, and not even death can stand against Him! Everyone and everything is subject to Him! He’s been with me, even in me all my life! He has always delivered me! I am His property! He defends me extravagantly! Woe unto me if I preach not the gospel....


Maranatha!



_________



- GERRY PHILLIPS - 1955-2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED