Joseph woke up in a palace.
Peter led 3,000 to Christ with one sermon.
The walls of Jericho fell with a shout.
The waters of the Jordan parted while the Israelites slept.
When fire fell from heaven on Elijah's sacrifice, it didn't start as a "spark to get the fire going." It fell in a consuming fire, not demonstrating a reward for Elijah's faithfulness but demonstrating God's power.
Throughout the Bible, when God showed up, everyone knew it.
And so can you-today!
Drawing on Scripture, church history, personal experience, and contemporary examples, Donna Partow walks you through a month of daily steps toward becoming a conduit of God's power. This thirty-one-day guide is also usable as a program for small group discussions over the course of eight weeks, and includes a leaders guide, plus tools like exercises for applying truths to everyday life, and cards to copy or cut out with key verses and principles.
God's power is the same today as yesterday and forever.
And you can experience it here and now.
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July 17, 2007
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Excerpt from Becoming a Vessel of God's Power by Donna Partow
Day 1:Experiencethe Real Thing The kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. 1 Corinthians 4:20 Afreight train full of roaring lions. At a distance but closing in fast. That’s what it sounded like. Then the floor beneath me started shaking. The room began swaying from side to side. As I stood on the eighteenth floor of the Ala Moana Hotel on Oahu, my first thought was that I was imagining things. It occurred to me that I might be physically ill and about to pass out. But as my ten-year-old daughter sat up in the bed, looking equally alarmed, I realized we were in the midst of an earthquake. Six point seven on the Richter scale, I later learned–the largest to hit the Hawaiian Islands in more than fifty years. Miraculously, God enabled me to remain uncharacteristically calm. Tara and I quickly dressed and headed out into the hallway. Before we made it to the stairwell, all the lights went out and we were engulfed in darkness. Feeling our way down the stairs, we soon encountered a growing throng of frightened hotel guests. I missed a step, twisting my ankle, but we pressed onward, inching our way through the dark, finally making it down to the street below. Just when we didn’t think matters could get any worse, we stepped outside into pouring rain. I struck up a crisis-driven friendship with a doctor and her husband who agreed to let us hop in their car, and we drove away from the towering buildings. We wanted to be as far from concrete and glass as we could possibly get if any strong aftershocks hit. After about thirty minutes, I looked at my watch and announced, “I’m scheduled to speak at the hotel in five minutes!” We decided the worst was behind us, and the couple agreed to drive me back to the Ala Moana where, sure enough, many of the retreat attendees were standing outside, wondering what to do. I had previously been in several conferences that had been disrupted by fire alarms, but in every case, it turned out to be a false alarm. That was distressing enough. This was the real thing. A real-life disaster. Calling it an act of nature or an act of God, people were reminded once again that life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan. We had all been shaken with a fresh realization that there are forces at work more powerful than any human being. I think that’s a good thing. It’s so easy to deceive ourselves into thinking we’ve got the world figured out and under control. But in life, as in earthquake-prone regions, every once in a while, God lets everything that can shake, shake. Whatever is left standing is a foundation worth building on. The hotel staff set votive candles along the floor, creating a path through the lobby and up the stalled escalators, guiding the way to our second-floor conference room. Here, a continental breakfast awaited those of us attending the Salvation Army Pacific Region women’s retreat. The candles also lit the way for everyone else who was frightened, hungry, and desperate for that first cup of coffee. People began streaming in. Pandemonium doesn’t begin to describe it. Unfazed, the conference director, Major Jonette Mulch, simply smiled and said, “We’re the Salvation Army. This is what we do. We feed people.” Then she started singing. And she kept on singing. And the women sang. And they kept on singing. We sang “This Little Light of Mine” and “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” We sang “Shout to the Lord” and dozens of old praise choruses. I delivered a short message on what it means for Christians to be a light in the darkness. Ironically, that was my planned message, even though I hadn’t planned to deliver it by candlelight! A woman pulled out her ukulele, and we s