Our church secretary, Gay MacLean, heard me tell our minister about one
of my recent spiritual search-and-rescue operations. Later she said, "I
think our house is haunted. Do you do houses, or just people?"
I asked her why she thought her house was haunted. The symptoms she described were typical, so I said, yes, if she and her husband wanted me to, I would come and see what I could do.
When I went to their house, I chatted with them for a little while, explaining that what I really do is pray. I have no power. The Lord's angels do the work, not me. All I do is like a radio operator.
Gay's husband got a telephone call and had to go back to his office. I stood in the living room and prayed silently, asking Jesus to send a team of his angels to home in on me, search the area, and do whatever needed to be done. I dimly perceived several spirits being encapsulated in bubbles of light, cleansed of dark influences, and helped to rise.
One was a pilot in a World War II flight suit who needed to apologize to someone for something. An angel led him away in search of the one he needed to find. He was very eager to do that.
There were several American Indian burials in the immediate vicinity, and even under the house. I asked Jesus to send someone specially qualified to help them. All this was done silently.
After awhile, I took a break and asked for a cup of coffee.
When she brought the coffee, Gay said, "You know, that was strange. While you were standing there, I thought I saw an Indian chief or medicine man in full regalia standing next to you. He seemed very happy, and I felt he knew you or had worked with you before."
I said, "I didn't see him, because I was tuned to the Lord, but I think I know who he might be. A couple of years ago, I was instrumental in the rescue of a whole tribe of Indians, and their shaman was someone I really respected. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he works for Jesus now, in the rescue of other Indian souls."
While we were talking, Gay's eyes suddenly got wide: "Oh! Someone just took hold of my arm."
I said, "Okay. Just be calm ... and relay aloud whatever pops into your mind."
Shortly, through Gay, I was in conversation with a lady who was not at all sure she had died. In fact, she really didn't think she was dead. I convinced her of that by asking her to see if she could walk through a wall. She could, and she was very surprised that she could.
Next, I asked her, "Do you know about heaven?"
"Then why haven't you gone to heaven?"
I can't go. I have to stay here. I have to stay here and wait for my husband.
I didn't know what to do, but a thought popped into my mind and I relayed it: "Ma'am, what year is it for you?"
"Oh, well ... you see, ma'am ... it's actually 1992."
My goodness! How could that have happened?
"You've lost track of time. That happens a lot, to people who've died. But I think it'll be alright. Just stay here with us, and I'll see if I can get some help for you."
I silently prayed to Jesus, asking him to send from the Light some of those who love this woman. And of course, guess who came? Her husband, escorted by a small squadron of angels.
Gay was still connected to the woman, so she experienced the reunion--felt the joy and relief and release that woman felt--with tears streaming down her face. Then she felt or saw or perceived the man and woman rise up together into the Light, with angels all around them.
After a bit, she sighed deeply, dried her eyes, turned to me and said, "I was wondering why you do this ... but now I know."