Good Morning, Holy Spirit

(Elliott) #1

40 GOOD MORNING, HOLY SPIRIT


Toronto, I was not caught up in the study of Scripture. Oh, I
still attended church. But what was about to happen to me
came out of left field. It was totally unexpected, and I was
stunned by the experience.
Let me tell you exactly what happened in my bedroom
that chilly night in February 1972.
As the dream unfolded, I found myself descending a
long, dark stairway. It was so steep I thought I would fall.
And it was leading me into a deep, endless chasm.
I was bound by a chain to a prisoner in front of me and
a prisoner behind me. I was dressed in the clothing of a
convict. There were chains on my feet and around my
wrists. As far as I could see ahead of me and behind me
there was a never-ending line of captives.
Then, in the eerie haze of that dimly lit shaft, I saw
dozens of small people moving around. They were like
imps with strange-shaped ears. I couldn't see their faces,
and their forms were barely visible. But we were obviously
being pulled down the stairway by them, like a herd of
cattle to a slaughterhouse—or even worse.
Suddenly, appearing out of nowhere, was the angel of
the Lord. Oh, it was a wondrous thing to behold. The
heavenly being hovered just ahead of me, just a few steps
away.
Never in my life had I seen such a sight—not even in a
dream. A bright and beautiful angel in the midst of that
dark, black hole.
As I looked again, the angel motioned with his hand for
me to come to him. Then he looked into my eyes and called
me out. My eyes were riveted to his, and I began to walk
toward him. Instantly those bonds fell off my hands and
feet. I was no longer tied to my fellow prisoners.

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