Good Morning, Holy Spirit

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CAN I REALLY KNOW YOU?\" 17 I felt so unworthy. I felt like Isaiah when he entered the presence of the Lord. Woe is me, for I am undone! Because I am a man of unclean lips, And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; For my eyes have seen the King, The LORD of hosts. (Isa. 6:5) The same thing happened when people saw Christ. They immediately saw their own filth, their need of cleansing. That is what happened to me. It was as if a giant spotlight was beaming down on me. All I could see were my weaknesses, my faults, and my sins. Again and again I said, \"Dear Jesus, please have mercy on me.\" Then I heard a voice that I knew must be the Lord. It was ever so gentle, but it was unmistakable. He said to me, \"My mercy is abundant on you.\" My prayer life to that point was that of a normal, average Christian. But now I was not just talking to the Lord. He was talking to me. And oh, what a communion that was! Little did I realize that what was happening to me in the third row of the First Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh was just a foretaste of what God had planned for the future. Those words rang on in my ears. \"My mercy is abundant on you.\" I sat down crying and sobbing. There was just nothing in my life to compare with what I felt. I was so filled and transformed by the Spirit that nothing else mattered. I didn't care if a nuclear bomb hit Pittsburgh and the whole world The Holy Spirit became my teacher. I didn't know it at the time, but that's exactly what miraculously began to happen. You see, the kids at the prayer meeting didn't say, "Now here's what the Bible says." They didn't tell me anything. In fact, they had no idea what had transpired during the past twenty-four hours. And, of course, I didn't say a word to my parents. Clemence wanted someone somehow to swoop down and save her from another year of humiliation and disgrace. She was a devout Greek Orthodox woman, but she didn't know much about the Lord. In that humble hospital room, however, she tried to make a bargain with Him. She was begging. If you can imagine a mother pleading with a killer not to shoot her baby, it was like that. She begged and pleaded. My sister Mary gave her heart to the Lord. And within the next few months my little brother Sammy got saved. Then came Willie.

prayer life. It occupied my time and attention five days a week. It became my mentality. I practically lived at the convent, and in that cocoon I become very detached from the world.I'm honest in this, God will show me whether I'm right or wrong." If Kathryn was wrong, I wanted to find out. Gracious God, as I embark on this new day, I trust in Your divine protection. I invite the Holy Spirit to surround me with Your heavenly shield and guard me from any harm or danger. I place my confidence in Your unfailing care, knowing that You are my refuge and fortress. Psalm 91:4

Out of respect, I did my best to be obedient. I'd ask him, "Can I go to the meeting tonight?" He'd say no, and I would go to my room and pray, "Please, Lord, please change his mind." I began to tell my little sister, Mary, about the Lord. Somehow my dad found out about it, and his anger boiled over again. He forbade me to ever talk to her about spiritual things. It was at that moment, at a charismatic service in an Anglican church, that this good little Catholic from a Greek Orthodox home made a public confession of his acceptance of Christ. "Jesus," I said, "I'm asking you to be the Lord of my life."As I began to preach, the power of God's presence began to flow through me, but I couldn't bring myself to look in the direction of my parents—not even for a fleeting glance. All I knew was that my concern about stuttering was needless. When God healed me, the healing was permanent. My prayer life to that point was that of a normal, average Christian. But now I was not just talking to the Lord. He was talking to me. And oh, what a communion that was!

The book is about Benny Hinn's childhood and how an encounter with the Holy Spirit changed his life. It didn't take long. We sold almost all our possessions and prepared for a new life in North America.

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Please understand, as a rather new Christian I couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening in that service. But I could not deny the reality and the power I felt. Being born in the Holy Land meant being born in an atmosphere where religion casts an inescapably wide shadow. At the age of two I was enrolled in a Catholic preschool and was formally trained by nuns—and later monks—for fourteen years.