Your God in the Philippines is more powerful than our god in Japan

For many years, I worked as an entertainer in Japan, where I met and married a Japanese man in 1989. In January 1991, I got sick. After a careful diagnosis, the doctor found out I had skin cancer. I was hospitalized for six months and underwent chemotherapy. Due to the side effects of the drugs, I suffered baldness

In the midst of this crisis, I listened to the healing messages of Bro. Mike on audio tapes and read Bagong Liwanag magazines sent to me by my parents from the Philippines. As I read the testimonies on the miracles of El Shaddai, God gave me hope that I would be healed. I repented of all my sins, asked for God's forgiveness and received in my heart Jesus Christ as Healer, Lord, and Savior.

Before I had my last chemotherapy, I made an overseas call to Bro. Mike in his office and asked him to pray for my healing. After that, the doctors were surprised with the result of the examination-it was negative! One of them even exclaimed to me, "Your God in the Philippines is indeed mightier than our god in Japan." Thank You, El Shaddai, for healing me!

Jesus Wept ... a story from India

One of my earliest childhood memories is of hearing sounds. Not the loving caressing sounds mother’s make to little babies, nor even the chatter of brothers and sisters at home; but rather the shouting and yelling of hordes of children. For my childhood began in a convent as my parents had abandoned me. As I grew up, I was sent to school and lived in a hostel run by the sisters. Even at that age I realized the closeness and belonging that other children had towards their parents. As per the hostel rules, parents were allowed to come over at weekend and meet their children. As he weekend would approach, I used to wait for my parents, longing to see them and give them a hug, as I saw my friends do with their parents. With tears in my eyes, I would have my gaze fixed at the front gate hoping that they would come some day. But they never did. When I asked about my parents, I was told that they would never come, as they did not want me.

I felt lonely, forsaken and angry with my parents. As time went on I subconsciously developed anger towards God for having allowed me to grow up without parental love. Hurting deep inside myself, I channeled my energy and time into my studies and became a top student. I prided myself on my intelligence and independence, with never so much as a thank you to anyone, let alone God. I went to college in Shimla and had many friends from all parts of India. I looked up to them to fill the emptiness I had within me. In order to remain updated to the worldly standard, my friends and I would not miss a single ball in cricket matches, watch the latest MTV hits, get the latest fashions etc. I knew these pleasures were temporary but I depended on them to fill the void of a lack of love in my life.

In 1999 I attended a retreat in Kerala, a life in the Spirit seminar. The last day was the Baptism of the Holy Spirit session and as I progressed I could here people shouting and crying. The Priest leading the session explained that Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament. I wondered to myself why nothing was happening to me. He quoted from Isaiah 49:15 “can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore ? Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you” I was shocked; the words seemed to be spoken specifically to me. They burned a lasting imprint into my mind and heart. Tears welled up in my eyes and as I looked towards the blessed sacrament, I saw a figure, with arms outstretched towards me. It was Jesus and He also was weeping. Believe me friends, Jesus wept. He wept with me..He wept for me...I had a deep sense of being understood by someone at last. And not just understood; here was someone who was crying along with me.

From that moment I was a changed person and my relationship with Jesus has been growing everyday. He gave me guidance and strength to walk in His ways. I spent time with Him and the desire for worldy pleasure died down. I received the grace to forgive my parents and to pray for them and love them. I feel no pain now.

On a wing and a prayer

A teacher tells how a salesman called to her school. When he produced his pen, she noticed that a Rosary beads had got caught onto the pens clip and came out as well. “you must be a Catholic” she remarked. “Not really” he said “but a lot of us owe our lives to Our Lady, and I promised her I would always keep my Rosary with me and say it everyday.

The story that unfolded ran: it was September 1940 when we joined the air force. At Halifax we were given an intensive training course because we were needed overseas. We were grouped into squadrons each of which consisted of 6 to 10 planes and each was trained to manoeuvre as a unit. About 30-50 men made up a squadron. They told us that we were going overseas and would be in action right away. We would be on nightly missions over enemy territory.

We eagerly awaited our new squadron leader. As an officer he would, we believed, go straight to the officers quarters. However, this one, Stan Fulton, in full uniform, headed for our bunk house, where he settled in with the rest of us, saying “ There’s a free bunk and I am tired ! I’ll meet each of you tomorrow”.

With that, he threw his bag on an upper bunk. Our squadron leader, an officer, sleeping here with us ! We liked him at once and our admiration grew each day. That first night he knelt on the floor and prayed his Rosary in silence. Astounded we were struck dumb. When he finished he looked at us his friendly smile and said “I hope you guys don’t find a fellow saying some prayers because where we are going we’re going to need them”.

Next day at manoeuvre practice, we found that Fulton was not just our military leader, but our friend. He was one of us. He never tried to intimidate with his rank. Next night, he repeated his prayer session. Although our group had been together for 6 months, I had never seen anyone kneel in prayer, and had no idea that any of our group was Catholic.

The third night 3 of our companions joined Fulton in praying the Rosary. The rest of us did not understand, but we kept a respectful silence. We weren’t slow however on the pick-up. Soon we were all answering the Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s. So, we ended each day in prayer.

Soon enough we were to begin a series of night raids from England over Germany. The evening before, Fulton gave each one of us a Rosary “we shall be in some tight situations, but if you agree to keep the rosary with you and to pray it, I promise you that Our Lady will bring you all back safe”.

“Sure thing” we replied, little thinking we would be in action for 4 years, often in dreadful danger. At such times, Fulton’s voice would ring through each plane “Hail Mary…” and we would devoutly respond ! We must have said hundreds of Rosaries in the skies.

Ours, was the only squadron that did not lose a plane or a single life. We said nothing, but we treasured our secret weapon and knew Our Lady had saved us all

The Wrong number..

One night, about 3am, the phone rang in the Presbytery. The PP answered it and the caller enquired “Is that the funeral home ?” ; “No, we are all alive here, only sleeping, its 3am” was the response. The caller went onto explain that he had just returned from the USA having heard that his mother had just died and was trying to find out where she was. The Priest recognised the name; he was to conduct the mother’s funeral that week.

The plot thickened; as the son told him how he had left under a cloud, the ‘blacksheep’ of the family you could say, and although he wanted to attend his mother’s funeral he was a bit concerned about how he would be received by the rest of the family. Perhaps Fr.. could smooth things over for him ? He agreed to do so.

At the funeral, when he came in all his relatives embraced him and welcomed him, somehow the death in the family became a source of unity and they all cried together and were reconciled and put past events behind them.

The son was so pleased that he heartily thanked the PP for his help and said that “if there is anything I can ever do for you, just let me know and I will” The priest thought this over for a few moments and said “actually there is one thing, I’m having a Life in the Spirit Seminar here for the next few weeks and I’d like you to attend”

His face dropped at the prospect of having to spend a half a dozen evenings in church; He had been away from the church for a very long time, born into the Catholic church but never really deciding to be one. However he was grateful and so agreed to attend, just to please him.

As the weeks went by, and he listened to the teachings and testimonies of these “born again” Catholics, he received the gift of faith, it all started to make sense to him, the love of God, the sacrifice of Jesus, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. He decided for God , was reconciled with Him and received His mercy and forgiveness.

A complete change came over him, the same zeal and dedication he had once had for sin, he now had for God and wanted to share this good news with others. Soon his family, amazed at his transformation, were attending the next Life in the Spirit seminar, as were some old friends. He was happy and at peace at last.

A couple of months later, still in his twenties, he had a heart attack and died.

Miracle Escapes from the Tsunami

Eighty percent of the town of Meulaboh in Aceh, Indonesia, was destroyed by the Tsunami waves and a similar percentage of the people died. This was one of the towns hit hardest but most of the Christian minority survived.

There were only about 400 Christians in Meulaboh. Naturally they wanted to celebrate Christmas, but they were not allowed to do so by the muslims of Meulaboh. In order to celebrate Christmas, they had to leave the town and went up into the hills inland.

Having moved away from their homes, they made it a day long celebration and stayed overnight on the hill. They were still there the next morning when the Tsunami struck killing thousands in the town below. The 400 Christians on the hill were all spared from the destruction that befell their muslim neighbours.

Had the Christians insisted on their rights to celebrate Christmas in the town they would have all died too.But because instead of being confrontational and going up into the hills to celebrate in peace, they were saved and can now testify to God’s marvellous protection. Their humility was key to them being saved.

A parish in Sri Lanka had a very similar escape. Instead of having Mass in their 3 parish churches that morning, they had an outdoor Mass at a grotto up on a hillside. But even then they should have been back down when the Tsunami struck, but that day the Priest went ‘on and on’ in his sermon. As a result only those who left before the end of Mass were caught up in the Tsunami. The 3 churches below in the town were completely destroyed.

Heaven Sent..

A woman was at work when she received a phone call that her daughter was very sick with a fever. She left her work and stopped by the pharmacy to get some medication for her daughter. When returning to her car she found that she had locked her keys in the car.

She was in a hurry to get home to her sick daughter, she didn't know what to do, so she called her home and told the baby sitter what had happened and that she did not know what to do. The baby sitter told her that her daughter was getting worse. She said, "You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door." The woman looked around and found an old rusty coat hanger that had been thrown down on the ground possibly by someone else who at some time or other had locked their keys in their car.

Then she looked at the hanger and said, "I don't know how to use this." So she bowed her head and asked God to send her some help. Within five minutes an old rusty car pulled up, with a dirty, greasy, bearded man who was wearing an old biker skull rag on his head. The woman thought, "Great God. This is what you sent to help me????" But, she was desperate, so she was also very thankful.

The man got out of his car and asked her if he could help. She said "Yes, my daughter is very sick. I stopped to get her some medication and I locked my keys in my car, I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car." He said, "SURE." He walked over to the car, and in less than one minute the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, "THANK YOU SO MUCH ... You are a very nice man."

The man replied, "Lady, I am not a nice man. I just got out of prison today. I was in prison for car theft and have only been out for about an hour. "The woman hugged the man again and with sobbing tears cried out loud ..."THANK YOU, GOD, FOR SENDING ME A PROFESSIONAL! "