Restoration Prison Ministry, May 2025 Newsletter

May- 2025

Dear Partners,                                          

 

The ministry trip to the Northwest is happening on May 28th through June 4th. 

 

So much is happening that God has His Thumbprint on, it is worth sharing just one thing. 

The Santiam Correctional Institution in Salem, Oregon, is where I first began in 1992. 

I have shared before how this began in a broom closet in the prison which was converted into a small library.  It held 4 chairs and that was it. 

In less than a month, the tiny room had standing room only, and I had to conduct two services to accommodate all the men who were coming to hear about Jesus Christ. 

 In less than six months, the ministry was moved into a Multi-Purpose Building across from the “yard” (recreation area for the inmates).  Revival broke out there.  Over 150 men were coming each week. 

 The latest story there is this. 

That original building I spoke about, is under construction, and the small chapel that has been used during the remodel, will only hold 25 men comfortably. 

Since the big building will not be done when I arrive in a few weeks, the Chaplain is moving the chapel to one of the vacant dorm rooms where men lived before it became vacant. 

 So far, the weekly attendance has grown with more room for men to come to this dorm room, and with announcing the ministry I am bringing for the last two weeks, they expect the dorm to be packed.  It will hold around 80 men, so the Lord is allowing a remodel and partial lock-down, to have a bigger chapel for the ministry to win souls in. 

 Yes,

“All things work together for good, to those who love God, and are the called according to His purpose.”

Romans 8:28.

 It is working out for the good, just in time to bring God’s Word to the lost souls at Santiam Prison in Salem, Oregon. 

 After this, I will conduct another service across the street from Santiam, on Friday evening May 30th, and I expect a full house in this prison called Oregon State Correctional Institution. 

From there, the next day, I will travel over Mt. Hood, to Central Oregon, to another prison, and beyond. 

 Many souls will come to these meetings.

Please pray for Salvations, Healings, and Miracles to happen. 

 

I have been able to purchase several cases of Study Bibles for the Texas Prisons I minister at. 

This order has been fulfilled, but I still need the same Bibles for the Oregon prisons I will be preaching in. 

I expect the altars to be full of lost souls in need of Jesus as their Savior, and for healings of broken hearts too. 

80 Bibles would cover the need for this trip.

I believe in the support and prayers that my faithful partners always provide for the lost in these prisons. 

I need a ten-day window to order them and ship them to Oregon.

Time is ticking.  

It would be a blessing to hand them to the new Christians who receive Christ as their Savior, while attending the services in the chapels. 

 

Please pray and consider helping me with this endeavor. 

All in all, I will visit a total of 7 prisons and conduct a total of 8 chapel services in all these prisons combined. 

From there, I will preach in a church in Idaho and am believing for God to move in His Power there as well. 

I will start this preaching trip in Vancouver, Washington on the day I arrive on the 28th, Wednesday.  

Please pray there are no flight delays keeping me from being in church on time. 

So much is happening with this trip, it is hard to explain the spiritual side of it all. 

As always, we as believers in Jesus, have a target on our spiritual backs. 

This is a spiritual target that Satan would love to hit the bullseye on and keep us from doing God’s will. 

This is for all believers in Jesus, not just the ministers, like me, who dare travel to preach to societies downtrodden. 

 

I have been under attack in my health, in such a way that I need a miracle in my body prior to this trip.  I have never been beaten down in this way, prior to a travel date upcoming like this. 

 

Currently I am fighting the good fight of faith. 

 

This physical issue is under prayer by many who I have asked to pray, so I am asking you as well. 

“The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man, avails much.”

James 5:16.

 I need MUCH healing.

Jesus is our Healer. 

I understand distractions, and situations in life that try and muddy the waters in our lives.  It seems that, the more we try to do what God wants us to do, the storms get bigger. 

Usually when I fight these kinds of battles prior to a trip, the Lord moves in a very powerful way, once I get going.  I expect the same on this trip. 

I will travel over 1,500 miles by car to accomplish this sweep of Oregon, Washington and Idaho. 

 

Please keep me in prayer over this. 

 

Remember, there will come a day that we lay our “soul-winner’s” crown at the feet of Jesus. 

You, and your consistent help, adds the jewels of Heaven in your own crown. 

They shine brightly, because you decided to sacrifice a lot in your life, to see people saved. 

There is no greater healing than the healing of a person’s soul. 

John 3: 3 declares…

“Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”

 

Jesus said this, and it is my mandate from Him, to deliver the Good News that Jesus Saves.   

I appreciate all you do, and have done, for years, to help this ministry to the lost and undone.  

 

Society may have locked up men for their crimes. 

For good reason. 

They deserve the time for the crime. 

 

So did I, in 1976. 

 

In some of the minds of those who prosecuted, judged, and handed down the sentences of many, the men are a lost cause. 

 

“Throw away the key.” 

 

Well, Jesus is The Key that unlocks the door to the heart. 

 

No matter what, we have all sinned.

 

I am just grateful I was given a second chance by God, to know Him, and the fellowship of some of His sufferings. 

I understand now, and I will never take for granted, the opportunity to live outside of prison. 

 

Prison is and can be a state of mind for many who do not live in a physical prison. 

There is nothing worse than to feel like we are on “death row” in our emotions, and in our sufferings. 

 

Jesus is Our Answer, after all. 

He loves all. 

 

He needs all of us to do our best, as He gives us mercy and grace to live another day. 

 

 Thank you for your continued support and prayers.

 

To God be the Glory, for the good things He hath done! 

 Sincerely,

 Joe Wilkins 

Shame on Who?

Romans 8:1 declares,

 

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.” 

 

Let us examine this, because it would be great if all guilt, condemnation, and shame left us the moment we accepted Jesus Christ as our Savior. 

There is no quick fix to this, and it is not instant oatmeal, either. 

 

The truth to this verse,

“To those who are in Christ, who do not walk according to the flesh.” 

 

Nothing good comes from our flesh, and this is one of the big reasons many Christians can’t shed this thing called shame. 

 

Let’s look at the differences between these barriers. 

Guilt:

First the cause of the guilt. 

Suppose you and I act against our conscience and withhold information on our tax returns.  It may not catch up with us for a couple of years, but when it does, it is painful. 

When we are held accountable for our lie, it becomes public knowledge that we lied and stole from the Government.  Your guilt is now well known. 

In the light of being caught, the pain of shame enters in. 

 

There is no guilt in trying our best to win a race or compete in business.  If we lose the race or do not get the business contract we hoped for, there is no guilt. 

Yet, because the door had been opened for shame a long time ago, we start to muddle in our mind's things like,

“If I had just worked harder and prepared better for that race.” 

Or

“Had I spent more time dotting the “I’s” and crossing the “T’s,” maybe things would of happened different for me in business.” 

Back to the “shoulda- coulda- woulda” syndrome, trying to go back in the past, and fix things. 

The past is the past. 

It is hard to move on in the quicksand of shame when it hits your heart.  You can be drowning and not know it until it is too late.  It is a slow fade. 

Shame is like a disease that is terminal, but we never die from it. 

We only live with it and suffer its consequences. 

Like a ball and chain in the spirit. 

 

The problem with this “stinking thinking” is that, Biblically, we can’t turn back the clock. 

 

Now, let us look at shame for what it is exactly. 

Some shame is justified; some shame is not. 

There are some situations where shame is exactly what we should feel.  And there are some situations where we shouldn’t feel shame at all. 

 

Most would say that an outright liar ought to be ashamed. 

 People would say that the long-distance runner, who did not win the race, should not be ashamed.  They gave it their best shot. 

Disappointment is healthy, but not shame. 

The Bible makes clear that there is a shame we ought to have, and a shame we ought not to have.  I am going to call the one, “misplaced shame.” 

The other is named, “well- placed shame.” 

 

Misplaced shame is the shame you feel when there is no good reason to feel it.  Biblically, this means the thing you feel ashamed of is NOT dishonoring to God; or that it is dishonoring to God, but you did not have a hand in it. 

 

In other words, misplaced shame is shame for something that is good, something that does not dishonor God at all. 

You did not have a sinful hand in this shame.  This kind of shame is not something we should accept. 

As little children, we did not know how to avoid accepting it, when it came from our parents, perhaps. 

 

“It was not your fault, the divorce happened.” 

 

Many young children and teenagers, who are part of a broken family, tend to blame themselves for the divorce.  This is not fair to them, to carry guilt and shame for something they did not do.  Human nature can be wicked and confusing at times.   

 

“Where are the adults in the room of despair in a broken home?” 

 

Shame is defined as:

Painful, self-conscious emotion arising from the perception of having done something dishonorable, improper, or unworthy. 

 

This often leads to feelings of inadequacy and a desire to hide or withdraw from life itself. 

We have heard in and around our ears as a child,

“Shame on you.” 

Well, shame hung on the Cross for our sins, and the sins committed against us in this life. 

Jesus was not a shame-filled Savior.

He took all shame and bled out for it, along with all the other sinful deeds mankind can create. 

Accepting shame, is saying, “I am at fault, even though I did not do it.” 

 

Jesus took our shame, whether it is self-inflicted or not. 

He took it all. 

 

Feeling humiliated and embarrassed is a negative emotion rooted in shame.  It is the belief that we did something wrong, and we must be flawed.  We were blamed for it, so we must own it. 

This is a lie. 

Lies come from the evil one, and those used by the deceiver of the brethren.  Satan.  The father of all lies. 

That is all he knows how to produce. 

The old saying is, “You are what you eat.”  Okay. 

“What about you are what you hear?” 

 

My mother doted over my older brother, the first born.  She was enamored by his matching black hair she had.  She loved him, but I believe she loved him too much. 

How so?

She would say to me over and over,

“Joseph, why can't you be more like your brother?  You could make good grades in school like him, if you would apply yourself and study more.” 

 

Sticks and stones broke every bone in my emotions after this constant comparison to my brother. 

I felt like I was hit by a two by four board across my face with that statement. 

 

Have you ever seen a mule hit between his eyes with a board?

Well, try and imagine the look on the poor mule’s face. 

I had that look every day of my young life. 

Always trying to compete with a smart, good looking, older brother. 

 

What about the other part, the stones? 

I am done with the sticks.  Well, the brutal words, and the physical abuse I endured, did qualify me as a stone. 

I was whipped with the metal end of a flyswatter, drawing blood at times. 

It was not a rock. 

But like many in the Bible, I was being stoned to death with a device used to kill horse flies. 

I guess I shouldn’t have snuck by the screen door in the summer months, trying to cool off. 

Might as well have used a large, oversize bug strip with the sticky fly goo, to catch me in midflight.  I could have avoided the flyswatter, and just stayed hung out to die, not dry. 

 

Shame. 

 2 Timothy 1:8 declares,

“Do not be ashamed then of testifying to our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but take your share of suffering for the Gospel in the Power of God.”

 

What this text means is; that if you feel shame for testifying about Jesus, you have a misplaced shame. 

We ought not to feel shame for this. 

Christ is honored when we speak well of Him. 

He is dishonored by fearful silence. 

 

So, it is not a shameful thing to testify, but a shameful thing not to. 

 

Where does most of our real shame come from? 

 

Experiences that were negative or abusing. 

Words do hurt. 

So do fists or slaps across the face as a 12-year-old boy. 

I speak from experience. 

 

Yes, we battle not with flesh and blood.  I did not know Jesus at 12, so I blamed a mother who was abusive towards me. 

 

It is the silence that killed me, not the whippings. 

 

This silent treatment, after my crimes against the house rules, was destroying my spirit. 

“Ignore me some more, Mom.  Go ahead, and do not talk to me for a week, if that will make you feel more powerful.” 

 

I thought these things back then, but never voiced out loud how I felt. 

Condemnation refers to a judicial act of declaring someone guilty as charged, deserving of punishment, and ultimately separation from God. 

This often stems from disobedience and sin. 

Sin will take us farther than we want to go. 

 

It took me all the way to a penitentiary and kept me longer than I wanted to stay.  It certainly cost me more than I really wanted to pay.  It cost me my freedom, and so much more.

I was a degenerate.  I proved my mother correct! 

I didn’t amount to anything, just like she said to me, repeatedly. 

 

She said, “You will never amount to a hill of beans, Joseph Bradley.” 

 

Whenever my middle name was inserted, I knew I was in trouble. 

 

I amounted to what she said.  Because of the lies I believed about turning out to be worthless, I did so. 

 

In fact, I remember wanting to be bad, just to make her feel successful in her prophesying. 

She said, “You will never become anything, but what you are right now, Joseph.  You sicken me to death.” 

 

Well, she died from Cancer when I was 15. 

 

The whippings stopped after that. 

I guess I really did sicken her to death. 

 

I will take the blame for that one.

 

See, words do hurt. 

They pierce our hearts to the depths of our young souls. 

They hurt when we are elderly. 

I heard those hurtful words when I was a foster care manager for the elderly.  The son or daughter who visited their Mom or Dad, who were in their late eighties, would verbally abuse them. 

Here they are, in their late 50’s, acting like little children who never got their way. 

They would say things like,

“Why are you just sitting there in that wheelchair?  Get up and exercise.  What are you going to do, just sit all day and eventually die Dad?” 

 

Some of the elderly parents would die under my watch at times. 

It was not old age that killed them. 

They were dead, the moment their children left this so-called visit. 

 

They died but still live on for a short season. 

 

I watched them, after the verbally abusive visit, cower down in their wheelchair, and refuse to eat.  Some starved themselves to death.  The one man I spoke of, who would not get out of his wheelchair, only lasted two more weeks. 

The doctors said, “It was natural causes.” 

I beg to differ that diagnosis. 

It was the harsh words of criticism and ridicule that killed them. 

 

Slowly, but surely, they died. 

Some of the foster care folks, cried when they knew they were going to get a visit from their grown children.  The children always called in advance.  This abuse must have happened long before I was honored to take care of them. 

 

Guilt.  Shame.  Condemnation.  Take your pick. 

 

We can ignore how we feel today or take it to Jesus in prayer. 

 

We can pretend it does not exist, but it lives. 

 

Charles Dickens said,

“This boy is Ignorance.  This girl is Want.  Beware of them both, and all their degree, but most of all, beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is ‘Doom,’ unless the writing be erased.” 

 

You and I can erase our doom and gloom of shame.  It can be washed away by the Blood of Jesus, in time. 

 

I did not really speak of the word peace. 

The fact is, most people who live in shame, have no peace.  So, I can’t speak about peace, fully, until we get past the shame barriers. 

 

Some of us have walls.  Invisible walls.  We can’t see your walls. 

You can see every brick. 

Each one has a name and a timestamp on them. 

They seem to be hard as stone. 

They are for now. 

But, when Jesus kisses your heart, and holds you tight in the Spirit, another brick leaves you. 

The wall starts coming down.  Like in Jericho. 

It is time to see the ruins of shame reside where they belong. 

 

In a pile of pathetic lies. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Expecting the Unexpected

                                                   

 

If unexpected events in life are a natural part of human experience, then why is it so shocking? 

If, suddenly, a horrible crisis comes our way, we all react differently in reasonably different emotions. 

Some scream.

Many cry. 

Others are in shock and can’t feel or say a thing. 

These are all real, but different. 

It depends on the tragedy or issue, and the degree of severity they bring. 

Nevertheless, it all amounts to the same. 

Unexpected. 

If you or I inherited a large sum of money, won the lottery, or were given a huge salary increase or bonus, we would react too. 

In an entirely different way. 

There would be brain cells exploding in the euphoria of being free from debt and financial responsibility, to a degree. 

Case in point: 

The death of my mom, when I was 15, was expected because of the 9 months of suffering with liver cancer. 

I watched all of it, day by arduous day.

This expected tragedy was coming to an end. 

Her death in 1971.

 

My father, on the other hand, was murdered when I was 18. 

Unexpected, but still horrible. 

 

These two situations brought different reactions from me. 

 

Anger and bitterness regarding my mother. Mostly against a God, I did not even know. 

 

Violence and insanity, on my part over my father. 

 

So, how can we expect the unexpected in a good way? 

How in the world can a human being expect something that is out of reach, or catches us totally by surprise? 

Is it good, or bad in our mind? 

 

We would never expect something negative for sure.  Yet, the negative comes at us, like a wave in the ocean that tries to take us under in its ability to tow us away at times. 

 

In the same way, expecting God to do something for us, in us, and through us, is different because it requires faith from us. 

 

Yes, faith. 

 

I didn’t know about faith at fifteen years old. 

My eighteen-year-old addicted self didn’t know how to handle life. 

I hated life.

 Life hit the fan, and I had to deal with the mess it left upon my heart. 

 

I hated myself as well. 

 

There must be a call to action in all of this, because the title of this story depicts an oxymoron in my eyes. 

It was not Jumbo shrimp.  It wasn’t deafening silence or even bittersweet. 

 

It was an unexpected event I hated.   

 

Why would any of us want to “expect the unexpected?” 

 

It is not behind door number one or two.  It must be behind door number 3.  In the game show in 1968, “Let's Make a Deal” with Monty Hall, some contestants would pick that elusive door number that had behind it: 

“A Brand-New Car!”  

 

Then, unfortunately, the other contestant, who dreamed of replacing his wreck-of-a-car at home, got the live mule with a stuffed-toy monkey on its back. 

Lovely. 

He was offered to have the deal challenged by having Monty Hall offer a possibly better gift. 

Another chance at a different door. 

He upped the ante by doubling down on the next deal with the host.  He lost and had to trade his “already won” room full of new furniture, appliances, and a trip to Acapulco, for a monkey-mule.   

I guess he could ride the real mule to work after discarding the stuffed monkey, if his old car broke down.  It cost him more to keep the donkey than putting gas in his car. 

This loss was surely a monkey-off-his-back. 

Not really.  He got a blender for a conciliation prize. 

 

I call this greed.  Better yet, stupidity. 

Take what you have won and be thankful and go home.  

How so, in an unexpected thing? 

James 4:13-14:

 

“Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit.’  Whereas, you do not know what will happen tomorrow.  For what is your life?  It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.”

James goes on to make a point. 

Do not be arrogant in boasting.  It is evil to boast. 

 

And further in verse 17 he says: 

 

“Therefore, to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin.”

 

Well, it is sin to God too. 

 

Since we can’t control any of the things in life, good or bad; we should learn how to navigate through both with our faith and trust in Jesus Christ. 

He is there in the boat with the storm.  He is there when your diagnosis was deemed a mistake and just a shadow on the ex-ray results. 

He is there.  Always there. 

 

When the unexpected happens, we’re prone to either become exasperated or to make excuses.  

I have run out of excuses to make a deal with God. 

 

Case in point: 

The unexpected happened. 

It is 1997.  My bride- to- be, was in the passenger seat up front, in my 1996 Chevrolet Caprice Classic.  Her mother was sitting behind me as I drove.  Her sister was sitting behind my fiancé. 

We had just left Lincoln City, a beach town in Oregon.  We had not been on the highway for more than 15 minutes when the “unexpected happened.” 

 

We have just bought hot coffee at McDonalds. 

(Remember the coffees).

This girl, in a small car, passed us on a hill.  No-passing zone.  She had to do 75 miles per hour when I noticed her car in the corner of my eye. 

She zoomed past us illegally, with a baby standing in the seat next to her up front.  I remember seeing a flash of the baby with my left eye.  No car seat.  It's a baby standing.  Probably 10 months old maybe? 

 

Once she passed me and went over the hill, I said, “Hope she slows down.” 

Then, as I topped the hill myself, all the traffic ahead of me had abruptly stopped. 

That mother, with the baby, had to almost slam on her brakes to avoid hitting the car ahead of them.  The baby was probably grabbed by her to avoid the child getting hurt. 

I could not stop in time. 

 

To avoid hitting her, I slammed on my brakes and swerved into on-coming traffic on the other side of the highway. 

No one was coming.  Thank God. 

 

Just when I thought we were in the clear, a huge truck, pulling a dune buggy on a trailer, slammed into the rear of this Caprice.  He was traveling at least 50 miles per hour, even after breaking himself. 

The collision launched us further into the other lane. 

75 feet further. 

Impact. 

 

All the coffee, the four of us were drinking, went flying all over the cab of the car. 

I got out of the car and saw the dune buggy hanging off the trailer. 

The truck that hit me was damaged a little bit. 

My car was totaled.  The entire rear end was accordioned in, all the way to the back glass of my beautiful car. 

 

I was freaking out.  Hollering,

 

“I have antifreeze all over me from this truck that hit me.  He has a busted radiator!  It is hot and scalding my skin.  Help me somebody.” 

 

It was all that hot coffee that went flying.  The creamer in the coffees had the same color as antifreeze in my shocked senses and in my terrified mind. 

 

Ambulances came.  Several police cars too. 

The three women in my life were taken to a local hospital for evaluation.  Neck strains for all three. 

I am standing on the highway watching my fiancé and her mother and sister being taken away. 

I was not hurt at all.  Maybe my ego.  I just lost a great car. 

 

The state trooper said to me,

“Well, I called a tow truck for you and for the truck and dune buggy hanging off the trailer, who hit you.  The truck that hit you is at fault, and I will write him a citation.  Are you hurt at all, Mr. Wilkins, looking at my driver’s license?” 

 

I answered, “No, Sir,” and then waited for the tow truck. 

 

He offered to take me to the hospital, and on his radio, he called dispatch to tell the tow truck drivers who were coming to the scene, to take my car to the junk yard of my choice. 

It was all set.  I have a ride. 

Not just any ride. 

 

So, I hopped in the passenger side of the police car up front, and buckled up for safety. 

I am looking around at the front dash and saw the shiny shotgun in its holder. 

I am gazing at the computer screen and radio equipment. 

Nice and clean up front. 

Of course, it had the protective steel screen separating the would-be offenders he would arrest in the future.  

All was well. 

 

I abruptly said to Officer McLennon,

 

“I have never ridden in the “front” of one of these before.  Lots of room up here.” 

 

He laughed and knew exactly what I was hinting about.   

 

I began to tell him my story about being in prison in 1976 and how I got saved by Jesus Christ, the short version of my life. 

We were almost at the hospital at this point.  Not much time to talk.

 

He’d driven his Cruiser to the hospital with lights flashing.  

Suddenly, he began to weep. 

 

 We arrived at the hospital two minutes later. 

 

I asked him what was wrong. 

He told me he had just gotten divorced.  And, he had lost the right to visit his children. 

The custody battle that he was in did not end in his favor.  He had just found out about the judge's decision before he arrived at the scene of my accident. 

 

He is telling me his heartbreak. 

 

His life had taken a turn in an “unexpected” event today.  The divorce was expected for sure, according to his short story to me. 

 

While now parked in front of the hospital entrance, I offered hope with the Lord leading me. 

Once he stopped crying, I asked him if I could pray for him, and that, if he was willing, accept Jesus Christ into his broken heart, by praying with me. 

 

He did.  We prayed. 

And then, we exchanged phone numbers. 

 

This State Trooper, Mr. McLennon, drove off.  I went to check on the girls, and they were fine.  No major injuries to any of them. 

 

Moral of this story? 

There is only one thought, not a moral. 

 

I could quote a bunch of scriptures, but I won’t. 

I could share how I heard from God about this man, but I didn’t. 

 

I did not see an open vision earlier in the day of this car wreck. 

Had no clue what was about to happen. 

I had just been to the beach, and didn’t get to finish my coffee with creamer. 

 

Unexpected.  Unbelievable. Supernatural. 

 

One thing for sure.  The girl with the baby? 

The officer wrote her a warning ticket about not securing her baby in the back seat of her car with a child restraint car seat.   

The driver of the truck and dune buggy felt bad about what happened and offered an apology. 

I would like to say I was this “super-spiritual” MAN OF GOD, but I wasn’t. 

I was truly bent out of shape losing my nice car, and having my future family traumatized and with slight neck injuries. 

Whiplash anyone? 

 

A long time ago in my past, the police always found me. 

 

Today, I found the police. 

 

Then, the Holy Ghost found Mr. McLennon. 

 

This unexpected tragedy that could have been much worse, wasn’t. 

 

The expected part of today? 

Just a beach trip and hot coffee (antifreeze in my mind) that turned awry. 

 

By faith, expect the unexpected from God.   

Today was not about Jumbo-shrimp. 

It could have been as we were at the beach after all.  Lots of seafood here.   

 

This whole day was bittersweet. 

My car was totaled. 

My life, spared. 

And my new family-to-be, safe.   

 

There was no deafening silence either, just metal bending, or tires screeching.   

 

A divorced, broken-hearted father, and an officer of the law, saved is sweet. 

 

As sweet as it gets in my eyes. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins 

Identity Theft of the Soul

 

Matthew 16: 13-18:

“When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi, He asked His disciples, saying, ‘Who do men say that I am, the Son of Man, am?’

 

So, they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist, some Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’

 

Jesus said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ 

 

Simon Peter answered and said, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.’ 

 

Jesus answered and said to him,

‘Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this (revelation) to you, but My Father who is in Heaven.  And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock (revelation that Jesus is the Christ, the Anointed One sent from God) I will build MY church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.’”

First let us look at the church. 

“Ecclesia” (Greek: translates to “church” and refers to the community of believers in Jesus Christ; the Body of Christ. 

It can also refer to a local congregation.  The term originates from the Greek words “ek” (out of) and “kaleo” (to call), meaning “called out ones.” 

 

The Church has, and has always had, issues about doctrines, methods, sanctifications, and rules and regulations.  The type of “theft” I will get into, should never happen within the confines of a church. 

 Referred to in the above “Ecclesia.”   

 

This word, when translated to English, becomes church. 

 

This word “church” appears 114 times in the New Testament, often referring to the universal Church, the Body of Christ, worldwide, or a specific local gathering of Christians. 

 

Again, what is the church? 

And who are you, specifically, within this context of church? 

 

 I am not talking about your servanthood in the church. 

I am pointing to your “condition” spiritually, emotionally, physically, and mentally.  This includes everything like marriage, children, jobs, finances, dreams of a better life, etcetera. 

 

How can we be separated from the world, and its lusts if we, ourselves, are the product of having our true identity stolen? 

How so? 

 

Every person in church has a condition.  Good or bad. 

 

This Christian life is a roller coaster at times, either in a storm, coming out of a storm, or headed into a new one.  Not a bunch of time to relax between storms. 

 

Thank God that Jesus is in the boat with us during all our storms. 

 

Our daily, weekly, and Sunday routines come with then, a condition.  It is called an opinion or attitude to be influenced regarding our understanding of “church” as we live out our Christian Walk. 

We sometimes evolve into a counterfeit or fake Christian.  Not wanting to, but we get tired of routine, and our true identity gets stolen in this process of complacency. 

We find ourselves hiding behind our own religious beliefs, no matter what the sermon on Sunday. 

Even if we feel conviction about something that is not right in our personal lives, we lean on our traditions and beliefs, rather than repenting on a bended knee. 

 

Jesus said in Matthew 11: 28-30…

 

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” 

 Identity theft begins in our soul. 

If you are laboring in any way and are heavy laden or burdened down from your past issues that are unresolved, then your soul has been stolen. 

Piece by piece, your life is tormented as it is shredded into small pieces of time past. 

It is like the memories won’t stop, no matter how you pray. 

The strength and power you need to overcome your past, or present situation, is gone. 

Zapped, and tapped out. 

How so?   

 

Your soul is sick.  Your mind, intellect, and emotions are dying a slow death. 

 

Is your current family happy? 

Are you relied upon, keeping order in the home? 

Does everyone around you, including people at work, or distant friends, need your time and insight? 

 

You are only human. 

Your soul is “damaged goods,” and even if you recognize the damage, why would you continue in a cesspool of sadness over things that happened years ago? 

 

How can you help someone who is damaged too, if you are beyond hope? 

 

We must get our identity back by finding out all over again, who is Christ, the Anointed One, and let Him fix us. 

 

I see no benefit in vomiting up the past.  It is truly gone. 

 

If we have the Mind of Christ, the damage from yesteryear can’t hurt us or drive us to sorrow and depression. 

 

You are in a trauma toilet going clockwise and being flushed down the sewer of identity theft of your own soul.  Maybe you do not recognize it, but you should by the end of this story. 

 

Just because your true identity in Christ is gone, does not mean you can’t get it back. 

Stolen away through time and pressures of life. 

 

Jesus said, if you are heavy laden, take His yoke upon yourself, and learn from Me. 

Are you learning anything about your soul lately? 

 

You and I will never achieve peace through strength.  Saying we are a Christian, and that we go to church, does not give us enough power to blow fuzz off of a peach. 

 

You and I are in a “spiritual war,” and we are losing ground daily without our soul back in place within our lives. 

 

We hide behind a mask of fear and worry.  The spiritual face we counterfeit daily, is wrong, and it is sin to think we can be pretenders, when we really have no hope in surviving. 

 

Do you hide in a drowning sea of sorrow and pain? 

Sometimes, unknowingly your identity is stolen away from you, and you are left confused about who you really are in Christ. 

 

He is more than your Savior. 

He is your only source of peace. 

 

Yes, His Word, the Bible helps. 

We must live what we read, or we are hypocrites.  Whitewashed tombs, full of dead men's bones. 

Ask the Pharisee’s, they will tell you all about that cleansing of the outward cup but leaving the inside dirty with despair, and religious ideologies.   

 

Jesus said in verse 29 that He is gentle and lowly (humble) in heart, and you will find rest for your SOULS. 

 

This identity theft also left your spiritual bank in the red.  Overdrawn and about to have it all closed out.  There are no other banks that would let you open a new account, if the last one died on the vine of vehement living in your past.   

This lack of identity causes us to sometimes try and be someone we are not. 

A theatrical player in a drama-filled life, going nowhere fast, waiting for the last curtain call, so we can run and hide. 

 

There is a part of human nature that causes us to desire to be accepted in a world filled with rejection. 

 

I know all about rejection, believe me. 

 

The moment the Judge passed sentence on any criminal, the mask went on, and we had to become something else other than a drug addict and attempted murderer.   
That was me at 18 years old.  We all have a horror story to share.  We were a product of our own environment, but the environment changes, like the weather, when we meet Jesus. 

The first mask I had to wear, prior to catching the chain to prison, was a thing called survival of the fittest. 

The chain is the bus a convicted felon gets on, strapped down with chains and handcuffs.  Thought I would clarify “catching the chain.” 

“They were PONDEROUS CHAINS!” 

Survival of the fittest means more than being physically able to fight.  

 I had to prepare myself to resist, what this maximum-security prison I was headed to on the bus was going to dish out to me in 1976. 

Resist in your mind first. 

I was so drug-fried prior to prison, it was a miracle I survived like I did.  I refused (in my mind at least) to succumb to the horrors that awaited me. 

I resisted all the games in County Jail. 

I resisted the pressure of someone trying to have me wear Mascara. 

 

I did not have an identity problem.  I knew what I had become. 

I absolutely understood what my behavior would bring. 

I did not care about the consequences from the crimes. 

 

I did not want to live another day, so someone kill me soon and put me out of my misery. 

My identity needed to be changed. 

It did change when I met Jesus in prison.  I still had “soul damage,” but in time, Jesus healed that too. 

I know exactly what manner of man I am today. 

I am God’s man. 

I am a husband to one wife. 

I am a father to two young men. 

I am a preacher of this precious Gospel. 

I am working full time at 69 years old, doing construction. 

I am building an elaborate chicken coop.  Yay chickens and eggs. 

“I just wonder what came first, the chicken or...”  

 

It does not matter.  I am scrambling the first ones that come in about a month from now. 

 

I am what Jesus wanted me to be from the start. 

My identity was flawed.  My addictions and violence were my fault. 

I can’t blame Mama and her drama anymore. 

I can’t look at my dead parents and say, “I want to be like Daddy.”  If that were the case, I would have been murdered at 46 years old like my own Daddy. 

I have outlived that curse for sure. 

 

Theft is theft. 

Someone or something (Satan) has ripped you off entirely of your mind, intellect, and emotional stability. 

 

Tell me how to get out of this rut please? 

 

First, you and I must take off the “false face” of happiness and joy.  If you don’t have joy, do not pretend for someone else's sake. 

Find out why you have no joy as a Christian.  I will just bet, it stems from reliving old events in your mind. 

Counseling may help, but it is not a cure-all.   

 

There are several “church” conditions according to the Book of Revelation. 

The seven churches and their distinct issues. 

 

What kind of church lives in your heart today? 

Is it Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamos, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea? 

It has to be one of seven.  Or maybe many at the same time. 

These churches in Asia Minor, during the first century AD, receiving specific messages from Jesus.

(He is talking to you right now as you read this).

These churches exemplify different aspects of the church’s journey through history. 

Highlighting both strengths and weaknesses. 

The importance of staying true to God’s Word was paramount in all the messages from Jesus. 

 

Did you or I forsake our first love, Jesus? 

We are known, like the church of Ephesus, to be hard workers and full of endurance. 

We hate evil too, but we have walked away from Jesus to a degree. 

Our zeal became lukewarm in our devotions to God. 

There is always hope if we repent. 

 

The rest of the churches had issues too. 

Tribulation, poverty, persecution, and faithfulness.  Yes, faithfulness despite the trials. 

One church sat in “Satan’s seat.” 

 

Complacency and lukewarmness was also in other churches. 

Philadelphia was steadfast, but not perfect. 

 

There is no perfect church.

Remember, body of believers in Jesus. 

Humans. 

 

Someone once said, “If you find the perfect church, don’t attend it.  You will mess it up with your presence.” 

 

Galatians 2: 20-21 declares,

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.  I do not set aside the grace of God; for if righteousness comes though the law, then Christ died in vain.”

 

Jesus lives in you? 

Is HE happy being in your vessel? 

He will give you, His Mind.  The MIND OF CHRIST. 

Your true identity will only be found in Him. 

Pursue Him.  Praise Him. 

Cut loose your past, and all the idols that surround all of them. 

Stop. 

Do not yield. 

 

You must stop in your tracks and look at your joy level and your hope level. 

 

Once you analyze that, then get on your knees, like some of the seven churches did, and repent for living in a place of your past, that wants you to dwell there. 

 

The biggest lie from Satan, is keeping us pre-occupied with our past, and our current tasks. 

Busy, busy, busy we Christians are. 

 

Stop, look and listen. 

 

You and I better look and listen when we stop. 

 

If we cross the intersection of life we are currently in, without our true identity, then we get run over and “squashed.” 

 

Hard to scrape up a soul off the pavement of life, that does not know who they are in Christ. 

 

 The oncoming train is approaching.  It is time to get off that track, before you get run over. 

 

You and I have been ripped off long enough. 

 

Ask yourself a question. 

What am I doing daily, that glorifies Jesus? 

If anything, you and I do, that is not building ourselves up in our most holy faith, then we are self-inflicting our own souls. 

 

Pull the knife out of your own heart now. 

The bleeding will stop. 

I am grateful Jesus did not stop bleeding for me, and for you. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Deaf, Dumb, and Blind

                                                  

“Our God is in Heaven; He does whatever pleases Him.  But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands.”

Psalm 115: 3-4 

Idols. 

Despite the historical and experiential evidence that idols are powerless over our lives, humankind has continued in their manufacture throughout all existence. 

Statues, carved images out of gold and silver, plaques, and even portraits of saints. 

Any hero, other than Jesus, is an abomination. 

Only if you worship any of them. 

Can’t do this and expect to hear or speak and see anything clearly that God wants to do in our lives.  

Idols of the heart keep us in a spiritual void, and we become like a person with the actual physical traits of the loss of these three senses. 

If a person is born this way, God can still use them.  He can heal them. 

As if they were never deaf, dumb or blind to start this life in. 

That is physical. 

 

How do we get healed of our spiritual defects of deaf, dumb, and blind? 

 

Let us start with what causes most of these defects in our character and our ability to understand the Nature of the Lord we say we love. 

 

No idol can assure us of a God and its presence.

 

No focal point in a golden image of a calf will do anything for us spiritually, except get our eyes off Jesus the Christ. 

 

The carved image of a calf will only make us come off our fasting effort early, wanting a leg of lamb to chew on. 

 

Psalm 115:8:

“Those who make them, (idols) will be like them; and so, will all who trust in them.”

Because the idol cannot reveal himself nor communicate his attributes, we are left to invent them. 

Our default character matches our own. 

 

As we explore, the theology of our idols, we find the worship requirements malleable as the attributes adapt to our fallen nature. 

 

Low demands and conciliatory spirit become the hallmark of the deaf, dumb and blind objects. 

 

Jesus taught us in many places, to be part of the vine, and have ears to hear. 

 

We can fall into the trap of not listening to His Word being preached. 

 

Yes, we sit in the pew, Sunday after Sunday, listening. 

But our hearts tend to get distracted easily in our immaturity spiritually. 

When the Holy Spirit brings conviction into our hearts at times, we hear, but do not obey quickly.  

This is a form of spiritual deafness too. 

 

If we continue to ignore that still, small voice of the Spirit of God, His tone never changes, and the volume of His Voice remains at the same level. 

It is our ears that get deaf to His leading. 

 

The longer you and I wait to repent or obey a command, the harder it is to hear Him.  

 

He will never stop talking to us.  It is we who stop listening and obeying. 

 

What is dumb/not having the ability to speak correctly in your spirit? 

 

It is not lack of intelligence.  

It is not lack of education or a degree.  There are a bunch of master's degree holders, who have no clue about Jesus. 

 

 I am talking about our ability to communicate to God with the things that mean something spiritual. 

He does not need our help.  We need His. 

Talking the Word and getting the Word of God deep into our soul is critical. 

It is our spiritual gas tank. 

Run out of gasoline in your car, well, call for help. 

Empty spiritual tanks provide little in the way of fumes of Godliness. 

We need His Word marinating in our souls. 

Not so much in your memorization of the Word of God, (this is good) as much as it is the automatic response to a situation or trial. 

 

We need it to come out of our mouths from our heart, when we need it to.   

 

Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. 

Nothing in the well?  Tank empty? 

Then the vain repetition and garbled words come out.  We do not understand our own babbling. 

Truly, the only thing, besides prayer and worship of our King Jesus, that will sustain us in the long haul of life is His Word in our Wells.  Yes, the well of our salvation and deliverance. 

 

You are only as smart spiritually, as you are absorbed by THE WORD of GOD. 

 

Not smarts intellectually. 

Spiritual intelligence about His Will and His Word is more valuable for you and me than all the degrees you could possibly attain in a lifetime.  Your degrees and diplomas, coupled with ribbons and trophies, are a good sign you studied hard to get your degree and did master the world’s barometer of qualifications for jobs and careers. 

 

All that counts, but it still won’t help you avoid eternity and its graduation ceremony. 

It is either judgement, or “enter in.” 

 

I just want one degree.  The one called obedience. 

 

Jesus often spoke of spiritual blindness.  He highlighted how people could have physical sight but be blind to spiritual truths. 

The Pharisees are a prime example of those who were spiritually blind, as they focused on outward rituals, while rejecting Jesus’ message of repentance and salvation in Him, and Him alone. 

 

It freaked them out when He declared,

“I do what My Father in Heaven tells Me to do.” 

 

Hardened Hearts. 

The Bible uses the phrase “hardened hearts” to describe a state of spiritual blindness, where individuals are resistant to God’s message. 

Romans 11:8:

 Just as it is written:

 

“God has given them a spirit of stupor, Eyes that they should not see, and ears that they should not hear, to this very day.”

 

Not to mention, being turned over to a debased mind, to go along with the three above-mentioned spiritual handicaps.  (Romans 1:28).

 

Those who practiced the abominations in this chapter were filled with all unrighteousness, along with the sins of the flesh. 

 

There was a time in my early years, filled with hatred, and addicted to various drugs, where I was a walking dead man. 

I was dying physically, and the drugs were my cancer. 

Violence became my drink.  It filled my thirst for vengeance and getting even with people. 

 

I was well on my way to being deaf, dumb, and blind to the truth. 

It was not only the truth.  It was the lie. 

 

I did not know I bought into the lies that were killing me. 

I was having too good of a time in my rebellion. 

I loved it to death. 

That almost worked as far as dying. 

 

Jesus began the surgery while I was in prison. 

He removed the strongholds and addictions over time after my Salvation moment. 

So, it became critical for me to empty my dead well and fill it with His Presence and His Holy Word. 

 

Empty vessels can’t carry anything but the dust of our disappointments and the air of anxiety.  That is why Jesus turned mere water into wine.  Not just for the wedding feast. 

It was to prove His miracle working power.   

 

Our empty vessels will hold something. 

Anything. 

But not just anything. 

Be careful lest you and I boast, for we too will fall into a trap.  That trap is called deafness, and the inability to hear or speak anything good and wholesome. 

Dumbness is a lonely place. 

It is a void of catastrophic, empty outer space. 

You are alone amidst the stars and planets. 

No name.  No vision.  No voice. 

No one to talk to.  No one to hear you. 

No one there to understand your garbled words you try and say which make no sense to anyone. 

 

 And finally, blindness. 

Once blindness comes, you and I will not be able to find the vessel to put His New Wine in. 

We will trip over our own insecurities and emptiness.   

 

We can come out from among the world and be separated into wholeness. 

We can have ears to hear finally.  We can speak clearly the oracles of God. 

 

We can see, with eyes to see, the path. 

 

“I am a lamp unto your feet, and a light upon your path.”

 

Go out at night with no moon or stars to help you see.  Take a flashlight or lantern and begin to walk.  You will only see a yard or two in front of you.  It is dark behind you. 

Since you can only see a little, does it make sense to get ahead of Jesus as He leads you? 

Does it make any sense at all to get behind Him and His Will for you? 

 

It would be better to stay by His side and look down at His footsteps and then walk where He walks. 

He will not lead the blind into a pit, because He has the best vision of all. 

 

Stay by His lamp. 

When yours burns out, His light will guide you.   

 

There will come a point in this walk with the Lord, you will see clearly. 

Take off the sunglasses of fear.  Do not wear them any longer. 

Open your ears, and listen to His Voice behind you saying,

 

“Walk this way, whether to the left or right.  Walk.”

 

 Then, speak out loud…

 

“Jesus, I worship You and I adore you.” 

He needs your voice.  He needs your ears.  He needs your eyes. 

 

Besides, we can be the voice and hands and feet of the Master. 

This is His intention for all who love Him. 

It is easy.  What is it? 

 

He wants to use your life for His Glory. 

All your life. 

 

It is not yours to decide which way to go. 

 

Our lives are not our own; they have been bought with price. 

His Blood. 

 

It is His Blood that enables us to hear, and speak, and see. 

 

It is the price He paid.  It cost Him everything. 

 

What will it cost you?  Everything. 

 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

My Spiritual Doppelgänger?

                                    

 

December 31, 2017, while at Snake River Prison in Ontario, Oregon, one of our team members was sharing from the pulpit, prior to me preaching. 

 

I was sitting next to a fellow 80-year-old minister, as the man who was speaking was almost done.  My time to go up to preach was within a minute. 

 

My fellow minister, sitting next to me, had his elbows on his knees, and his face in his open palms, weeping. 

Right before I got up to preach, he whispered to me, “Remind me later in the hotel room, to tell you what the Lord said to me just now.” 

I acknowledged him and went up to preach. 

 

In the hotel room later, he told me this: 

“God said, ‘Go and do more until you are exhausted.  I will give you all you need.  Do not come to Me and the end of 2018 and not have done all you could do.  Do as much as you can everywhere.  Book (schedule) everything.’” 

(Remember this, as I am moving on to the VERY next day at the airport).

 

My fellow minister and I were at the Boise, Idaho Airport.  His flight to Houston left before my flight to Austin.  He lived in Houston, and I lived in another town four hours from him. 

 

I am sitting at my gate, when the following happened: 

An old man in a wheelchair was sitting in his area, ready to board the flight I was going to be on. 

He is staring at me for ten minutes.  I was trying not to make eye contact with him. 

Finally, after this ten-minute period, the old man waves me over to him. 

 

I arrived, reluctantly, and he spoke this to me: 

“I see you have had a hard way in life.  Let me see your left hand.” 

(I gave him my left hand, and he held it as he continued.) 

“There is fire in your hand to bring healing to nations.  You must do more; you MUST DO MORE!”

(That is what God told my 80-year-old fellow minister the day before while at the prison.  God spoke the same thing to him just before I went up to preach).

 

“Your family; OH, your wife, what a prayer warrior, yet so sensitive in the Spirit of God.  Much for her to do yet.”

 

(He asked me for my TWO boys’ names.  How did he know I had two boys except by the Holy Ghost)?

 I told him,

“Caleb and Levi.” 

 

He continued,

“Caleb needs to run in the spirit, like he runs on a field.” 

(Caleb was a running back in High School Football at this time, and a track and field runner).

“He hasn’t gotten the Baptism yet, but soon will, and he will pray for the sick and afflicted.  He has such a Shepherd’s heart.”

 

 “Now Levi. 

Bold, brilliance of mind and heart. 

Will be a prophet to the nations.”  

 

He continues,

“Your family is a miracle.”

  (He then asked for my name).

“It is a true miracle, your family.  Your son Caleb has such an awesome spirit, one that is tender. but needs The Baptism, so that he can function in the Spirit. Function and RUN in the Spirit, so God can tell him what to do, and where to go.”

 

(Now, he speaks about himself).

 

“When I was 36 years old- I am 80 now- I was caught up in the Spirit of the Lord, between Heaven and earth, and God showed me the ones I would pray for, in my entire life.  From that day forward. 

 

Now, you and your family, are one of many He showed me back when I was 36.  Today is the fulfillment of what I saw 44 years ago on your behalf.” 

 

He says,

“You have got to keep doing what you are told, for time is short!  YOU are called. YOU ARE CALLED!”

(He amplified his voice to me).

“Do not worry about things that concern your needs.  I love you.” 

 

Then suddenly, an airport orderly came up to him, as I walked away. 

I watched him intently. 

The orderly said to him,

 

“You are parked at the wrong gate, Sir.  You belong two gates down from here, which is the correct gate.” 

 

The 80-year-old man, as he was wheeled away, winked at me and smiled. 

I had taken a picture of him at the beginning, before he called me over to prophesy to me. In this picture, he is sitting in the wheelchair. 

It is more of a side shot than a front picture. 

 

This man looks exactly like me. 

 

He has long hair and a beard, but if you take away that hair and beard, and add 18 more years to my appearance, it is a spitting image of me. 

 

I will look like this when I am 80? 

 

I do not know that.  I know I will not grow a beard or have long hair. 

 

This is not the point about my possible doppelgänger.   

He was not that.   

 

He was a prophet of God, possibly my angel. 

 

Just a few moments later, after he was wheeled away to the gate, I walked the 40 feet to the gate he was to be at. 

 

He was gone. 

Literally gone. 

 

I had time before I flew out.  I walked and walked, checked the restrooms, and all the gates nearby. 

 

No man.  No wheelchair.  Nothing. 

 

Was he an angel from God sent to me? 

I will never know. 

 

You will see for yourself the resemblance.  When I got home, my two boys looked at the picture, and said,

“He looks like you, Pop when you get older.”

 

The rest of the story now. 

My friend, and co-laborer in the Lord, never fulfilled the mandate God said to him that day in 2017, when the Lord spoke clearly to him to DO MORE. 

He passed into eternity in 2021. 

 

It is now 2025, as I am writing to you. 

 

Since all this happened to me on New Years Day in 2018, the Lord has allowed me to do more, and more, and even more regarding prison ministry, churches, and a teen challenge center. 

He has provided a way for me to go, even though I still work full time at 69 years old.  I have been allowed, by Jesus, to expand my tent stakes and see more souls saved these past 7 years. 

 

“DO MORE,” the Lord said to my friend back then. 

 “DO MORE,” the Lord said, through the man in the wheelchair, to me that day in Boise Airport. 

 

Remember what he said to me. 

 

“When I was 36, God showed me all the people I would pray for in my lifetime.” 

 

Ironically, I started preaching the Gospel in 1992. 

I was 36 when I started. 

 

Coincidence? 

Possibly. 

Does that mean anything spiritually? 

Probably not. 

 

What does all this mean to me? 

 

“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing, some people have shown hospitality to angels, without knowing it.”

Hebrews 13:2.

 

This man in the wheelchair showed me more than my own hospitality. 

He showed me the truth about my life, my children, and the ministry of soul winning in prisons. 

 

 In 1999, when Caleb was in the womb, I put my face down on my wife’s belly and proclaimed, by faith,

 

“You are from God, and you will have a shepherd’s heart, a pastor’s heart, and will lay hands on the sick and afflicted and they will recover.” 

 

My youngest son, when my wife was pregnant with Levi,

 

“You are a prophet to the nations, and you will proclaim the truth to those who listen to you.” 

 

My sons have preached and ministered with me in prison, several times.   Caleb was with me at Snake River Prison in Oregon after he turned 18, around 10 months after my encounter with this man in the wheelchair.  

 

Levi and Caleb surprised me by coming to the Ferguson Unit Prison in Texas, on Father’s Day in 2022 and 2023. 

 

Do More?

 

 “Do more, and do not worry, I will give you what you need.” 

 

That word to “do more” was intended for my friend.  It ended up being to me, only one day later as it went forth to my heart.  

My friend may not have done all he wanted, but I am endeavoring to DO MORE.   

I am not exhausted quite yet, and hope to have more strength and stamina as each day goes by. 

 

Here is another fact about the “word” given that day at the airport. 

 

“Your family is a miracle, a true miracle.” 

 

Doctors told me, for over 20 years after I got out of prison in 1977, that the tests run on my ability to have children were negative.

I had been beaten half to death inside jail, in 1976, and my reproductive organs inside my body, were destroyed. 

My external plumbing was also half removed. 

My fish were dead. 

 

NO hope for me to ever have children. 

 

But, the Bible says,

 

“Nothing is impossible for them that believe.”

Mark 9:23.

 

My oldest son was born in May of 2000, and my youngest, in July of 2001. 

The two that the man in the wheelchair spoke of. 

 

That is a miracle. 

 

What do you believe in? 

 

God gave me two sons, supernaturally.  He is a Supernatural God. 

 

Not a doppelgänger. 

Jesus Christ can’t be duplicated. 

 

But He can, to a degree, duplicate His love through you, to others. 

 

Let HIM. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

A Daddy’s Little Girl

                                                  

It was around 2010, when I met this young lady working at a Dairy Queen. 

It is the same Diner that I stopped at every Wednesday, to study for my preaching time at the Federal Prison near Sheridan, Oregon. 

 

I had around two hours to study after work, and this Dairy Queen became my routine.  I would order some food, and after eating, I would flip the tray paper over, which was a blank piece of white paper.  The front side had the Dairy Queen logo and a big ice cream cone picture on it.  In color. 

I had many sermons on this tray paper over the years, tucked away in my box of memories.  I never used them again, but I kept them. 

 

On this day, I was writing my sermon when the young 19-year-old girl placed my food in front of me.  She paused after setting my tray down. 

 

“What are you doing, Mister?” 

I replied, “I am writing my sermon for the prison nearby.  I will be preaching to the men in a couple of hours.” 

She froze. 

Bowed her head in shame, and muttered with a soft voice,

“My Daddy is in prison somewhere.  I have not seen him since I was around four years old.  I have vague memories of him, and I wish I could find him.”

 

I asked her what her Daddy’s name is, because at this time, I was preaching in all the State Prisons in Oregon, and maybe I could somehow help her. 

 

She, again, softly said, “His name is Rick C.” 

 

My turn to freeze up!  I could not believe what she just said to me. 

I asked, “What is your name?” 

“Lacy C.”   
“Wow, Lacy, I know your dad.  I have known him for the past 15 years.  He is at the Snake River Prison in Ontario, Oregon. “

 

She grabbed me and hugged me with tears flowing down her face. 

I asked her if she wanted me to contact him, next time I was going there to preach.  I also gave her the Chaplain’s phone number at that prison so there could be a way for her to get in touch with her Daddy. 

 

The next week, upon my arrival at the Dairy Queen, she was off work that day, and I continued to pray about this whole situation. 

 

Two months went by, and it was time for me to go to Snake River Prison for my scheduled preaching events. 

When I arrived, Rick came up to me and wept on my shoulder. 

 

“Joe, I got a letter from my daughter Lacy.  Explaining how she met you and that you knew me.  I am so grateful to the Lord Jesus for reconnecting us after 15 years.”

 

Another Divine appointment for a Daddy, and his little girl. 

 

I received a letter from Rick a few weeks after my preaching event. 

It read,

“Dear Joe, Lacy came to visit me last week with my former wife.  My former wife and I are friends now instead of living apart with bitterness and unforgiveness between us.  My former wife is saved, and when I saw my daughter for the first time in 15 years, she also said that she is saved too.  Joe, Lacy told me after meeting you and finding out how I knew you for a long time, she surrendered her life to Jesus, the day you two met.” 

 

Unreal. 

I didn’t lead her in a prayer.  I just prayed for her. 

I did not get an opportunity to share a sermon with her; I just held her while she cried. 

 

You see, Jesus does not always wait for a sermon to be preached. 

He does not use witnessing as the only avenue to reach someone’s heart. 

He uses everything.  Including a hot meal at a Dairy Queen on a Wednesday afternoon. 

 He used a moment in time, to reveal His love to a young 19-year-old girl, who missed her Daddy. 

Yes, a Daddy’s Little Girl, in need of a Father. 

She not only got her Daddy back, but she also met the best Daddy ever. 

Jesus. 

 

Many years later, when my oldest son Caleb was old enough to go into prisons with me, we scheduled a visit to Snake River Prison. 

Caleb brought his friend Nathan, and prior to the trip from Texas to Oregon, I called the Chaplain.  I have known this Chaplain for over 20 years. 

I asked the Chaplain to let the inmate led worship team know we were coming and that I wanted them to practice the song, “Who Am I,” by Casting Crowns. 

I even gave the Chaplain the proper KEY to sing it in because I was setting up Caleb and Nathan for something that they had no idea what was going to happen once we three arrived. 

 

Everything was set. 

We arrived in Oregon, rented a car in Portland, and drove the 8 hour drive to the prison. 

We stayed the night, and the next day, we arrived at the prison. 

Good ole’ Rick C. was there, and when we walked in, he approached Caleb, Nathan, and me. 

Rick looked at Caleb and said,

“I have been hearing about you for over 18 years.  Your Daddy has been preaching here for a very long time and has told all of us about the miracle of how you and your brother were born.” 

 

Caleb is stunned and frozen.  So is Nathan. 

 

(I knew what was coming next.) 

 

Rick C. is around six foot 5, and weighs about 275 pounds, without any known body fat. 

We call this in prison as “buffed out.” 

Primarily from the weight benches the inmates use daily. 

 

Rick looked at Caleb with a stern look as well as Nathan and said, “I want you two young men to join the worship team today.  OKAY?” 

 

The look on Caleb’s and Nathan’s face was horror and surprise. 

Rick picked up my six-foot two, 185-pound son, and Caleb’s feet were off the carpet.  Rick swung him around three times and sat him down.  With his meat hook hands on Caleb’s shoulders he stated, “So is that a YES from the two of you about joining the worship team today?” 

Caleb could hardly spit out the word yes. 

 

So, the worship team began with Caleb and Nathan behind their own microphones. 

The song by Casting Crowns began. 

“Who Am I, that the Lord of all the earth.” 

 

Caleb and Nathan know this song; they began to harmonize with the other singers. 

Then, about halfway through the song, the inmates (on cue) tuned down their microphones completely, and let my son and his friend finish. 

 

The looks on these two young men, with tears flowing down their faces, was unbelievable. 

The harmony they had was from Heaven. 

When the song ended, the entire 175 men in attendance stood up and clapped and worshipped Jesus. 

 

Caleb and Nathan were set up by me and Rick. 

Truly, they were set up by Jesus to do, what they have never done before. 

Be used of God, to minister through music. 

 

The ears of society’s “rejects” opened that day. 

Though this world deems people in prison as outcasts, Jesus sees them as His children. 

Children to be, when the Gospel is sung, preached, and simply given in love. 

Anyway, God desires. 

 

Over one hundred men received Jesus that day. 

After duplicating the service with Caleb and Nathan singing again for the second service, Jesus moved even more. 

These two young men, found out, just like the song lyrics say, “Who Am I, that the Lord of all the earth, would care to know my name, would care to feel my hurt.  Chorus:  Not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done, not because of what I’ve done, but because of who You are.” 

 

From a Daddy’s Little Girl, to having my son and his friend sing that day. 

 

Only Jesus could put together such a divine intervention like the two stories I just shared. 

 Lacy C., and her Daddy Rick C., were reconciled to each other after 15 long years. 

Daddy’s Little Boy, at one time, and his friend, sang and worshipped the Lord Jesus too. 

 

Just think of it. 

When I met Lacy at Dairy Queen, my son Caleb was 10. 

Eight years later, Caleb got to meet the Daddy to a little girl, who never knew him before. 

 

The last time I went to Oregon, last September of 2024, Rick C., is at the Oregon State Correction Institution in Salem, Oregon now. 

He came up to me in the chapel and showed me a picture. 

 

It was a picture taken just a few weeks prior to my visit that day. 

It is a picture of Rick, his former wife, Lacy, and her brother Levi, in the visitation room in the prison. 

Reconciliation. 

This whole family is saved and whole now.

 

God will use abandonment.  Rejection, Divorce, and heartache. 

 

He uses everything. 

Jesus does not waste a thing in this life. 

We may discard things or do things that end up in life’s dumpster. 

Jesus never throws away anyone.  Even, a Daddy’s Little Girl. 

 

The song, “Who am I?” 

 

Who are you today? 

 

If you are lost, you can be found. 

If you are broken hearted, He can heal you too. 

 

Psalm 147: 3 declares, “I have come to heal the broken hearted and bind up their wounds.” 

 

If you have been wounded, He can and will heal you. 

 

Especially when you find out “Who You Are, in Him.” 

 

He cares about you, just like He cares about that young girl at Dairy Queen. 

 

From an abandoned little child to a Daddy’s Little Girl. 

Only Jesus can orchestrate this kind of reconciliation. 

He is, who He says He is. 

He is Daddy. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Declared Not Guilty, by Reason of Sanity

                              

Another way to look at shortcomings, sins, and flaws in our character as human beings, is to find out what does the Bible say versus mankind's attempt to analyze, dissect, and treat our flaws with psychology. 

Treatment in the human/carnal way is through counseling, therapy, drugs and accountability to others who have the P.H.D. 

 

Nothing wrong with this, but I have answers to many plagues and misfortunes mankind is hit with.  It has absolutely nothing to do with therapy or counseling. 

It is all a spiritual matter. 

Yes, spiritual. 

Go all the way back in your Rocky and Bullwinkle “way back” machine and you will find in the beginning of the end of mankind.  It is found in the Holy Bible. 

Adam and Eve.  Walking with God in paradise.  All was well.  The hidden gem, so to speak, in all this was Satan.  Piece of coal, not a diamond.  He would never be for sure. 

He tempted them both and they gained some wisdom from their sin. 

Like Satan, they bought the lie from the father of lies. 

Eat and you will be like God. 

Well, now you know the rest of the story. 

 

So, when a child, man or woman faces trauma, they seek help eventually.  This is after they all ate of the fruit of knowledge, which cost them their paradise too. 

Human defects. 

Everything that besets mankind is found in the Bible. 

Not only is it found, but there is also a cure for it all. 

Jealousy, envy, hostility, anger, lust, greed, murder, homosexuality, hatred, prejudice, divorce, and the list goes on. 

Unthankful, unholy, no gratitude, selfishness, and the like. 

All the above stems from disobedience.  Not doing what God intended for us to do. 

Sin entered the world, and it is alive and thriving. 

Insanity, devil possession (it too is in the Bible), malice, war, sickness, disease, starvation and many more, are all linked to sin. 

Yes, sin. 

Sin separates us from God, but there is a way out. 

This way out is at the end of this writing. 

We, as humans, fall short of our own expectations. 

Keep God out of this for a moment. 

We learned early on that we could not measure up to our own personal goals and dreams.  Our dreams of a good life turned into nightmares because of sin. 

Not always our sin.  The sins of those who perpetrated their selfishness upon us and took advantage of us in some sin event. 

Sin is rebellion.  Rebellion against God. 

Yes, God is back now, and He hates sin and rebellion against Him.  He is the Judge and Jury. 

Our rebellion against Him hurts Him. 

The world, including Hollywood, has watered down sin.   

Movies, Netflix and even Hallmark promote sin.  Homosexuality plastered across out Dish Network.  Violence, murder, rape, incest, bestiality, and so on has made its way to our living rooms. 

Back in my era of the sixties and so on, if you even saw a bra on television, without the woman, it was PG rated at the least. 

 

Now, we can’t as a nation under God, define exactly what a woman is. Pronouns? 

Give me a break. 

 

We, as a nation and as individuals, have missed the mark regarding God’s standards of behavior. 

Now God has an answer to all of this. 

 

Paul wrote: 

“For all have sinned and fallen short of God’s glorious standard.  Yet now, God in His grace and kindness, and His love, declares us NOT GUILTY.  He has done all of this through Christ Jesus His Son.  Jesus freed us by taking away our sins.” 

Romans 3:23. 

 

Our acquittal is not based on our good deeds.  It is based on our faith. 

So, we are made right with God through faith and not by obeying the law.  Romans 3:27-28. 

 

It is like being in a courtroom.  You and I know we are guilty of the crime.  The prosecutor (Satan) has all the evidence he needs. 

Not circumstantial, but clear, DNA included proof of our crimes. 

Pictures of our sin.  Jesus (our Attorney, and God the Father, the ultimate Judge, sits in the courtroom).

Our defense attorney, Jesus, pleads our case, and does try to lessen our ultimate sentence. 

He talks about how we did not mean to do what we did in our crime.  He points out our weaknesses and our abuse to our souls. 

He goes on to advocate for our sentence that is coming, to be less harsh. 

 

Facts are facts and the devil is laughing under his stinky breath and soot on his burned suit.   

 

Then, like Adam and Eve, you start to feel remorse for your crime. 

In your broken heart and wicked heart, you feel guilty for your crimes. 

This moment of resignation of the facts in your case, and the resigning to the reality that you can’t do a life sentence, and you wished you had a second chance. 

The gas chamber or lethal injection waiting for you is your reality. 

It will not go away on its own. 

 

The Judge leaves the courtroom for a few moments after the facts are laid out. 

Jesus sits down by your side and holds your hand. 

You look down with tears in your eyes and catch a glimpse of some scars at the bottom of His hand and wrists, just near the long sleeves of His robe. 

 

(I thought only the Judge wore a robe.).

 

The Judge, The Father, comes back and sits down. 

Jesus is still holding your hand. 

 

The Father calls Jesus to the stand and whispers to His Son: 

“Is your client in remorse for what they did yet? 

Have they gotten to a place of repentance in their hearts for what they did?” 

 

Jesus says to His Father: 

“Yes, they have because they saw my nail scarred hands and realized I was their way out of a life sentence (in HELL). 

I didn’t say a word to them or preach a sermon, though I could have. 

They figured it out on their own with my nudging of love, without saying a single, solitary word. “

 

The Judge responds: 

“ALL RISE.  I have found the defendant NOT GUILTY BY REASON of SANITY.  Case closed.” 

 

This is the power of grace.  Grace from God.   

 

Who is your attorney? 

Do you have an advocate today? 

Just because you have no crimes, requiring that you to go to court, does not mean you are innocent. 

 

We have all sinned. 

 

I would not wait until the life sentence is handed down from God to seek the best attorney ever. 

Jesus the Christ. 

He needs no retainer. 

He needs no evidence, after the fact. 

He only needs your sanity back. 

 

You can be declared not guilty, by reason of sanity. 

Seek Him for your pardon. 

 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Giving up Control

This idea of allowing God, the Creator of the universe we live in, to control ALL our lives, is very disturbing.

 

Yes, we have accepted Jesus as our Savior, and learning to allow Him to be the Lord, Master, and Controller of our entire lives, is challenging. 

 

It was difficult for us, during all our sinful behaviors, before we accepted Him, and afterwards.  Afterwards seems harder, because the Holy Ghost is continually bringing conviction to our hearts. 

He won’t let up on us.  He is the ultimate “hound dog from Heaven,” sniffing us out from our scent of sin. 

Not just sin, but tracking us because He is with us nearby, and wanting to pour His love into us, as we run away from Him, like the fox running away from the hound dog. 

It is the hunt.  He is hunting us down with His mercy and grace. 

 

You and I can only hide for a little while in the foxholes of life called “isolation.” 

We have always had a certain resistance to allowing the Lord to control everything. 

Let us face facts. 

Prior to Jesus revealing His love to us, we were in complete control of every facet of our lives. 

Our diamond called self-perseverance, and self-preservation, was dim, and in need of polishing. 

The quality of this diamond was limited, because we refused to let go and allow the Lord to fix, reset the stone, and then allow Him to present His diamond in such a way that it gleams. 

He, alone, is the Master Jeweler. 

His fee to do all of this is a thing called submission and surrender to Him.  Process. 

Even amid God doing a miracle on our behalf, we want to, somehow ,control that process too. 

When, where, and how He decides to do a miracle is His Providence. 

Not ours. 

Jeremiah 18: 2-6 declares:  

“Arise and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will cause you to hear My words…”

(Cause you to hear, is the waiting process.  Patience is a fruit of the Spirit.  Fruit is developed, not instant oatmeal).

“Then I went down to the Potter’s house, and there he was, making something at the wheel. 

And the vessel that he made of clay, was marred…”

(disfigured, damaged and spoiled)

“… in the hand of the potter; so, he made it again into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to make. 

Then the Word of the Lord came to me, saying  ‘O House of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter?’  says the Lord.  ‘Look, as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel.” 

The description of the first vessel represents you and I when we were in the world, unsaved. 

Broken vessels. 

Marred and truly disfigured. 

Ugly in our sin. 

 

We could not look into a real mirror and see anything of value.  Not only to ourselves, but to anyone else, including a God who says He loves us.

 

The new attempt by The Potter to make a better vessel should represent you and I, willing to jump upon the wheel, to be molded and shaped into a new vessel (our lives) worthy of honor, not dishonor. 

This represents our faith to get out of the boat of logic and walk on the waters of our faith. 

Look at this in a way that is real. 

He picked us up with His hands and pulled us apart from the clump of clay (the world) and took us and put us upon His wheel of shaping. 

This wheel spun slowly at first. 

(Our born-again experience) then, suddenly, the pressure from The Potter’s hands, began squeezing the clay (You and I).    

We felt the pressure of the sin in our lives leaving us as in the moisture in the clay, leaving the lump as the wheel spins and spins. 

Pressure. 

Not too much pressure, to cause weak spots in the clay before it enters the heat of the oven. 

We needed to be purged and molded, and put into the refiner's fire and receive the launderer’s soap. 

Malachi 3: 1-3:

*Behold, I send My messenger, and he will prepare the way before Me.  And the Lord, whom you seek, will suddenly come to His temple, even the Messenger of the covenant, in whom you delight. 

‘Behold, He is coming,’ says the Lord of hosts. 

‘But who can endure the day of His coming?  And who can stand when He appears?  For HE is like a refiner’s fire and like launderers’ soap.’”

 

“He will sit as a refiner and a purifier of silver.” 

(Verse 3) 

This passage describes God’s coming judgment as a purifying process, like a refiner’s fire burning away impurities and a launderer’s soap cleansing away stains. 

OUR SIN STAINS. 

God had told Jeremiah to go to The Potter’s Shop and wait. 

(Are we patient to wait upon the Lord as we try and give up control of our lives)?

 

Patience is more than a virtue.  It is mandatory to wait on the Lord. 

God is never on our timetable. 

 

This is why humility, on our part, is so important. 

 

This waiting process has a lesson to learn. 

 

If we get ahead of God in His purifying process in our lives, then we mess up the process, and leave the wheel too early and find ourselves marred. 

If we lag, His processes of the refining, purging, and burning away of our sins, then we never catch up to the Lord as He is moving ahead of us to prepare the way. 

This is an analogy of laziness, complacency, and not really believing He will do what He said He would do, on our behalf. 

  
There is no “catch-up” with the Lord of Hosts. 

Either get in His will, get out of His will, or you will be run over with new sins, and an interruption of His plan. 

 It is paramount we understand this. 

 

He gives us many chances to follow Him. 

This is His mercy and patience for us, and for mankind. 

Why would we not run to Him? 

Stay with Him? 

And follow Him? 

 

God said to Isaiah…

“Destruction is certain for those who argue with their Creator.

Does a clay pot ever argue with its maker?

Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying, ‘Stop, you are doing it all wrong?’

Does this pot exclaim, ‘How clumsy can you be?’”

Isaiah 45:9

When you and I put ourselves in the hands of the Lord, He will reshape us as He sees fit.  His way is always best. 

It is in our humility that allows us to accept the fact He is the Creator. 

He is The Master Craftsman.   

 

In 2023, in Ocala, Florida, I attended a revival in an Equestrian Expo center that held seven thousand people.  I was a volunteer, helping pray for those who got saved, after their prayer at the altar with the evangelist who preached. 

 

The first night, of four nights, 800 people came forward to receive Salvation, mercy, and healing. 

Entire families came forward, along with many older folks as well. 

 

The title of the message was “Wounds in the Church.” 

The message basically said, “Church is supposed to be a hospital for those who are sick and afflicted.  Why would it turn into a place to kill the sick who came in for help?  Christians are the only army who kill their own wounded.” 

 

Prior to the service, a woman directly in front of me, never stood for worship.  She never made eye contact with me. 

(Remember this eye contact issue).

As worship was ending, there was an offering taken for the ministry who was sponsored for this four-night event. 

I verbally asked her, without her seeing me, eye to eye, to borrow a pen to write out a check. 

With her back to me, never turning around, she grunted like a pig at a trough. “UGHHH, grunt.” 

She held up a pen over her shoulder and handed it to me, never turning around to greet me at all. 

I filled out the check, and said thank you to her. 

Handed her the pen back, once again, never making eye contact with her.  

 

Once the message was preached and the altar call was happening, as a volunteer, I knew my cue to leave to go to the back of this enormous building to greet the people who just got saved.  I am shoulder to shoulder with over 200 volunteers, ready to greet the 800 who were on their way. 

 

Hundreds were in these lines with the 199 volunteers ready to give them their info, so the local churches in this area could follow up with them for their zip code and geographical locations. 

 Did not want to lose the fish in the net. 

I was the lone volunteer in this crowd of people with no one to pray for.   

 

No one came up to me for prayer or to give me their information. 

No one. 

Finally, before everyone who was in these huge lines left to go back to their seats, a lone woman walked up to me, as if to say, “What's up with all this?” 

 

I immediately recognized her. She was the woman who loaned me the pen earlier.  We never made eye contact until now.  She still did not know I was the man she grunted at.  I recognized her.  She never recognized me. 

 

She walked up to me and said,

“Now what?  I just dedicated my life to this Jesus, and I want to get back to my seat, so what do you want me to do?” 

Gruff voice again without the pig sounds. 

 

I said,

“Ma’am…”

(because I am from Texas)

 “…the evangelist wants us to say a quick prayer for you and, if you are willing, give me your contact information, so the local church in your area, can follow up with you.” 

She hollered,

“OKAY, fine, hurry up then.” 

 

I prayed a quick prayer and got her information. 

Her name was Katherine. 

When I finished my prayer, and said, “In Jesus Name, Amen,” she hollered again at me.

“Well, is that it?  Are you done now?”   

Gruff and disrespectful. 

I didn’t care about her rudeness.  She was obviously going through things that only the Lord knew. 

 

Fast forward.  

 

Before the evangelist began to pray for physical healing and emotional healing needs in the crowd, the worship team did one more song.  

“Breaking the Chains.” 

The anticipation for Jesus to heal was thick. 

 

Suddenly, Katherine, who never turned around and looked at me, and still did not know who I was, stood up and put her hair into a ponytail. 

 

Then, during the song, she started jumping up and down, hollering and singing with the song,

“BREAKING THE CHAINS-JESUS, BREAKING THE CHAINS. JESUS, JESUS...”

She kept screaming/singing to the song all through the song to the end. 

 

She was hollering this, at the top of her lungs, and while doing this, she took her arms and made the gesture with her arms, crossing them over each other as if to say,

“I am breaking the chains off my life. I am breaking the chains.” 

 

She never stopped jumping up and down and hollering. 

She was accepting whatever the Lord was doing in her heart. 

She went from a grunting pig in her spirit, to shouting,

“Breaking the chains, Jesus, breaking the chains.” 

 

Miracle.  Here is a woman, obviously oppressed in this thing called life, and in a moment of time, she worshipped Jesus Who met her that day. 

He met her at exactly the time He wanted her to surrender and give-up-control. 

 

Are we pigs at the trough of life, like the Prodigal Son? 

We have known Jesus at one time, but find ourselves eating pods, and begging to go home to the Father’s House for reconciliation? 

 

Jesus will get rid of our pigpen thinking, if we will let Him. 

 

She grunted out loud before she met the Savior. 

She was a 50 plus-year-old woman, who must have been in pain. 

Pain, physically? 

I do not know. 

Pain, mentally or emotionally?

Probably. 

 

Something made her grunt and stay in her chair during the service. 

Something drew her out of her chair, to go forward and accept Jesus as Savior.   

 

I know what it is that fixed her issues of life. 

It was her giving up control of her life. 

Then, once she committed to that, Jesus took control, and put her on the wheel, and began molding a broken vessel named Katherine. 

 

He is Master Potter. 

 

Let Him gently bring you to the wheel of great fortune, called repentance. 

He desires to mold and shape you and your life. 

 

It is what He does.  It is who He is.  

 

He went from a Cross to a grave, from a grave to a permanent trip to Heaven. Well, permanent for now, as He is returning someday for sure.   

 

He currently sits at the Right Hand of His Father, making intercession for us. 

He does this with nail- scarred hands. 

His hands are scarred for a reason. 

 

That reason is to be the Potter of our lives. 

 

I see Him pulling the clay from mankind’s pile. 

 

 Your piece counts. 

It is never marred in the hands of The Potter. 

Never. 

Embrace the wheel daily. 

You will be found to be a vessel of honor, in Jesus. 

 

If he can do that for Katherine, I wonder what He will do for you, personally and with His love and mercy attached to His amazing grace. 

How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me...and you. 

 

At some point in life, we must give up control. 

Otherwise, are we able to navigate life without the Lord guiding us? 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Timekeeper

                                                                              

There is a fact of life that no person can avoid.  It is not death or paying taxes.  Those two are inevitable, but the concern I have is not someone dying or going to Federal Prison because of tax evasion. 

 

It is about time.  Yes, time. 

 How does anyone really define this word? 

Is it that time is just a number? 

No. 

How about, “Time flies when you’re having fun?” 

 What if you are miserable?  Does that make time slow down? 

“Time heals all wounds.” 

That is not true.  Especially for me.  I will get to that soon. 

How about, “Better late than never?” 

“Time is money?”   

So, my question is, now that I turned 69 years old,

“Where did all the time go?” 

Imagine with me, for a moment, that your bank account has just been credited with $1000.00.  And let us imagine that this happens every single day at noon.  This money is not allowed to be carried over from one day to the next.  The entire balance is deleted each evening at Midnight.  We basically have 12 hours to spend it, or withdrawal it. 

What would you and I do? 

Well, we would get that cash out every day, before it is deleted.  Or at least spend it. 

You and I have a bank of sorts. 

 It is called time.  Yes, 24 hours in every day. 

Most Americans sleep six to eight hours a day.  We work approximately eight to ten hours a day.  On average, we will have around eight hours to relax, play, study, or go shopping with that imaginary $1000.00. 

(You can quit fantasizing about that part of the story now). 

What that tells me is two things.  If we work 5 days a week, then we have two play days.  The normal person will spend quality time with their families, or friends, or even co-workers.  Single people may use their time wisely. 

Some, not so much.  Hangovers hurt. 

Time.  I venture to say that this bank of time, if not spent properly, is gone.  No way to get it back or carry it over to the next day. 

Once it is gone, it is gone.  Forever. 

To my point now. 

I can tell you the scripture about this. 

The book of Ecclesiastes emphasizes the cyclical nature of life, with specific seasons and times for various activities. 

Ephesians, on the other hand, encourages Christians to be wise and make the best use of their time, as “the days are evil.”  Ephesians 5: 15-16. 

The Book of Acts, in Chapter One, acknowledges that God has a specific timing for an event, which is not always revealed to humanity. 

 

Ecclesiastes 3:11 declares,

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.  Also, He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.”

 

God exemplifies the Mastery of His Providence over mankind.  We will not figure out our Heavenly Father. 

Not in a zillion years. 

 

To my message.  If they are true, the averages I spoke about in a day’s time, then the question begs to be answered,

“What am I doing with my time?   Truly, what is my priority, or priorities?” 

We only have a certain balance of time in the bank of our lives.  Time is not in a bottle, no matter what Jim Croce says in his song from 1972. 

“If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I'd like to do; is to save every day, ‘til eternity passes away, just to spend them with you.” 

It is a great song for lovers. 

It speaks of the fact that time can’t be caught, kept or spent out of a bottle of any kind. 

“So, Mr. Croce, you don’t mess around with Jim, or Leroy Brown either.” 

Tugging on Superman’s cape will end your ability to have any more time to spend. 

Every person who reaches a certain age, like me, does not dwell on time.  I am concerned about it from the advantage of experience over lack of time spent doing certain things. 

There is a truth to “experience is the best teacher.” 

I would have served myself better in my younger years by having listened to the teacher.  

 

Case in point. 

Rebellion was growing in me the last full year I spent in High School.  Mom had just died when I was a freshman.  I could have cared less about being in school.  I only went, after she was buried, to find my drug connection. 

I quit school, long before I quit school. 

You know what I mean.  I checked out, months before I quit going to school physically. 

 

I did garner a perfect record on my report card in those final months.  My Daddy had to go to the principal's office to discuss my issues in school.  Mom had died, and there was my Daddy in the office of the principle with his freak son, Joe.  My hair was down past the middle of my back.  I wore tie-died shirts, commonly called Nehru. 

They would be considered Vintage now.  Bell bottom jeans and Dingo boots. 

 

The principle said to my father,

“Mr. Wilkins, your son comes to school on time. 

That is the good news. 

He leaves for lunch and never returns. 

That is the bad news sir. 

Do you know where he goes?” 

My Daddy had no clue because he worked hard and was not aware of my issues yet. 

“Well, Mr. Wilkins, your son Joseph has a consistent report card.  He has made straight F’s.”   

 

My Dad was floored, and he knew I was out of control at 16 years old.  He could do nothing for me, and I did not want counseling or any help.  It was because I had no clue “time” was running out for me, very soon. 

 

I quit school completely before the first week of my sophomore year began. 

“Goodbye Duncanville High School.  Hello to more time to do drugs.” 

And that I did quite well. 

From ages 16 through the middle of my 18th year, I had developed a $200.00 a day habit of shooting Meth into my veins.  I did armed robberies, and burglaries, to support my habit. 

I did work a full-time job though. 

At least I was consistent about that. 

Daddy never knew the worst of my young life. 

I am glad he was spared from seeing me go to prison. 

I say spared rather lightly. 

He was murdered in November of 1974.  Just eight months after I turned 18. 

He was spared the hard way. 

I was a casualty in the making. 

Time? 

“Where did it go?” 

Without question, I did it to myself. I wasted time. 

All of it from age 15 through 21, and beyond. 

 

Without question, we are all called to be good stewards of the time God has given us. 

We are called to be more than managers of our time. 

We are specifically called to REDEEM the time. 

 

Your BANK of time does not allow you to borrow from tomorrow.  There is no roll over minutes.  You and I only have access to our time account for what is in it today. 

If time is money, then how do we save it? 

We can’t. 

There are no overdrafts in the time account. 

No setting aside for a rainy day either. 

 

We do things in life to save time.  We pay someone to do our yard work.  Clean our house.  We order online, so we don’t waste time shopping.  We drive faster than we should.   

“Time Management” has become one of the buzzwords of American Culture.  Everyone is pushing harder, multi-tasking, and trying to accomplish more in the same amount of time that it took a month ago. 

With no extra pay, mind you. 

“Man is like a breath, his days like a fleeting shadow.” 

Psalm 144:4.

 

Breathe deep now. 

Come out from the shadows of a busy life and live for once. 

 

You and I are running out of time, especially if we do not know Jesus.  Even if we love Him, we waste time trying to figure out the complex issue of faith. 

 

Using our time wisely is a life-long school we attend and never graduate from. 

Mistakes in school can be corrected before the final exams come. 

Mistakes with our time cost us everything. 

 

 For some of us, divorce looms because we are workaholics. 

Many housewives, spend too much time doing laundry, and watching soaps. 

Oh, yes, let's call them homemakers or housemakers. 

Some men became home wreckers, not appreciating all that their wives did for the family.  

 

Do not want to offend anyone. 

“This is equal opportunity marriage counseling!  For free.”   

Let us remember the “Leave it to Beaver days.” 

Dad worked.  Mom stayed home and took care of the children.  Before and after school, until Daddy came home. 

America was better off back then.  Not any neighborhood watch groups in the 1960’s. 

You could leave your front door unlocked at night back then. 

Now, deadbolts, doorbell cameras and watch dogs are the norm. 

Let us not forget these calmer eras in history. 

Sitting on the front porch after dinner was the norm. 

Now, some well-to-do homeowners must have a deck out back. 

Can’t see criminals from a back yard deck. 

 

Ecclesiastes 1:6 declares,

“The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.  Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities!  All is vanity.  What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?  A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.  The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises.  The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north; around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns.”

 

Sounds like reality to me. 

“What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, yet loses his soul?  What will a man give in exchange for his soul?” 

Mark 8:36.

I squandered time in my youth.  I have wasted time in not seeking God with all my heart at times too. 

We have all sinned and fallen short. 

 In my case, I crashed and burned in my sin. 

As you and I grow older now, think about what is said in this short story about time. 

I will leave you with a poem I wrote while in prison in 1977 after my Salvation in Jesus. 

                                                                          

 From Your Embrace 

 

Tick, tock, do pendulums swing?  No time for games, no church bells ring.  I see the sand in an hourglass true.  Each grain that falls, is me and you. 

We have some time to get things right; to fix what’s broken and stop the fight.  The way we were, does not define...Who we are now, because of time. 

Jesus said, “You need eyes to see.” 

Father time keeps ticking.  “What will you be?”  “Lost in sin, and wasting time?”  Can it be worth these simple rhymes? 

“I wanted to Lord; I was going to get saved.  But there’s no more time for your banner to wave.” 

Empty promises and broken dreams have stolen your time, and now you scream. 

What shall I do, as the pendulum swings?  I want to hear those church bells ring. 

May I receive His mercy before it’s too late?  As eternity waits, our ill-gotten fate. 

As the sands of time will stop one day. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock; I hope to pray.

I’ve run my course and finished my race. 

I pray You’ll love me, from Your embrace. 

 

Take one more glance at your watch. 

Is it still ticking? 

Will you and I awake for another day? 

Is time flying in your world? 

Or has time stopped?

 

I believe it did while you read this letter. 

 I know about doing time. 

The only way time will heal your wounds, is if you ask Jesus, to give you enough time, to let Him be your timepiece. 

Jesus is the Timekeeper. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Just as He Said.

As We Get Closer to Resurrection Sunday…

The Two Things in Life

                                                                     

I heard a comedian tell a short story that is worth repeating.  

It is funny, but it is serious, depending on where you stand in life. 

He said, “There are two things in life you worry about.  Either you are healthy, or you are sick.

 If you are healthy, you do not have anything to worry about. 

But if you are sick, then you have two things to worry about.  

Are you going to get better?  

Or are you going to get worse? 

 

If you get better, then you do not have anything to worry about.  

But if you get worse, you have two things to worry about.  

Am I going to live?

 Or am I going to die? 

 

If you live, then you do not have anything to worry about.  

But if you die, then you have two things to worry about.  

Am I going to go to Heaven?  

Or am I going to go to hell? 

 

If you are going to Heaven, then you do not have anything to worry about.  

But if you go to hell, then you have two things to worry about.  

Original?

Or extra crispy?” 

 

Funny?  

Maybe.  

But I have a different perspective on his joke.   

I borrowed this “joke” from an online comedian. 

My perspective is about life.  

It is about death of the body.  It is about the true life of our soul.  It is about the death of our soul.  It is about the eternal life of our spirit.  

 

Or is it about the demise of all three? 

 

It was once said that if you are born once, you will die twice.

 If you are born twice, then you will only die once. 

 

This is simple to understand.  Jesus makes it clear in John 3: 3:

 

“Jesus answered and said to him, (Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews) ‘Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.’”

 

Of course, Nicodemus was confused and talked about going back into his mother's womb and entering a second time, thinking this was what Jesus was talking about when He said, you must be born again.    

Jesus was not referring to mankind's first birth, as a baby from our mother’s water breaking, and then we take our first breath outside her womb.  

He was talking about the spiritual birth, by receiving Him as our Lord and Savior.  Jesus died so we could live.  

If we live this life, without Him as our Savior, then we die all three of the above-mentioned deaths.  

Body, soul, and spirit. 

 

So, if we are born twice, in this context, we will make Heaven our eternal home.  If we never receive the finished work of the Cross Jesus died on, (born once, die twice, then we die physically, with soul and spirit included).   

 

The second death is eternal separation from God forever.  

Why?  Because we did not receive John 3: 3 in our hearts. 

 

So many people on Planet Earth have found different religions, and philosophies, to try and fill a void that only Jesus can fill.  

Let's face facts.  Only Jesus died, and was raised from death by His Father, supernaturally.  No other religion or mind-controlled philosophies will ever keep up with what Jesus did.  He was the Word from the beginning. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.  In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.  And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.”

 

John goes on to declare…

“But as many as received Him, (born-again John 3: 3) to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His Name (Jesus Christ) who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.”  

John 1: 12-13.

 

Now that we understand this, the two things in life that matter the most are easy to define.

 

 Before I do that, let us talk about the things in life that do not really matter regarding eternity.  

Money.  Fame.  Prestige/honor from people. 

 

We all want a life worth living.  

Some people were born with a silver spoon in their crying mouths.  Some were born into poverty.  

Either way, they were born.  

Each person does the best they can, with what they were born into.  Facts are facts.  

“I have never seen a Hearse pulling a U-Haul trailer.” 

 

We all came into this world with nothing, and it is guaranteed that we will not take anything with us.

1st Timothy 6:7.

Except for, what we did for Jesus. 

There is a Beatles song entitled, “Can’t Buy Me Love.”  Refers to love, not being able to be bought, among other things.  

“I don’t care too much for money; money can’t buy me love.” 

Easy for Paul McCartney to say.  He wrote the song and credited it to John Lennon.  Paul is worth 1.3 BILLION dollars in 2025.  He too, will not take any of those dollars with him, when he faces eternity.  He will go out, just like the rest of us.  The way he came in.  With nothing. 

 

First thing in life.  

Find out what your gifts and talents are from God.  Come to a place where you MUST, be born again as Jesus said to Nicodemus. 

Be born-again in the Spirit of God.  Attribute anything that is good in your life, to Christ, and give Him all the Glory.  

Facts are, unless the Spirit of God reveals Jesus to you in the Spirit, you can’t be saved.  

Jesus said, “Do not murmur among yourselves.”   

“No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws him; and I will raise him up at the last day. “

John 6: 44.

 

Human beings cannot, on their own, choose to follow Jesus and come to faith.  

 

This highlights the active role of God the Father in drawing individuals towards Christ. 

We must believe that the Gospel is real, and the Bible is true.  

Unless we are Convinced, by God, we will not understand anything spiritual.  

We must be Convicted in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, to repent.  

Then, and only then, will the transformation called: Converted, take place.  

From death unto life.  From hell to Heaven.  Born again.

 Now, once this takes place, we hopefully will allow God to Control our lives.  

This is a life-long process. 

Remember these four C’s. 

 

The second thing in life is what? 

Backstory. 

 

On the day that I was released from prison in September of 1977, I had a choice to make.  A crossroads facing me.  “Would I make the right decision?” 

I sat in the theater room in the pre-release unit of the Texas Department of Corrections. 

I was on the front row, listening to all the speakers that day.  The final speaker was a preacher from the Teen Challenge Center in Tyler, Texas.  

David Wilkerson, in 1958, began ministering to troubled youth in New York City.  Specifically, the gang members and drug addicts.  Mostly Heroin addiction.  His initial street outreach and a subsequent recovery home marked the beginning of what is now called Adult and Teen Challenge.  It is a world-wide ministry. 

 

This man of God, when He was done with his speech at the pre-release center, walked up to me and asked,

“When do you get out of prison?” 

I said, “Tomorrow.” 

He stated, “Do you know you have a “call from God” on your young life?”  

(I was 21 then).

I answered him, “I don’t know, Sir.” 

 

Finally, he opened his Bible and asked me my name.  He wrote my name in his Bible, and said for me to get on the bus, and come to Tyler, Texas tomorrow.  

“I will save a bed for you Joe, and you can begin in the ministry there with me.” 

Well, I had been praying about what to do when I left prison.  Now, I had my answer. 

 

The number two thing in life is even more important than number one. 

 

Once you are saved, and figure out your giftings, then get to work.  

Never, stop utilizing the gifts God has bestowed upon you.  We all have talents of some kind.  Some are administrators in the church.  Many are volunteers.  Thousands are missionaries to other countries. 

Keep doing what God has gifted you to do and never stop.  It is called bearing fruit.  

Fruit that remains.  

He chose us, we did not choose Him.

John 15:16.

 

Back to Teen Challenge. 

I never got on the bus.  Fail. 

 

I took the money I had from the State of Texas and ended up in Tampa Bay, Florida. 

 

“Do not love the world or the things in the world.  If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.  For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, are not of the Father, but it is of the world.  And the world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever.”

 1st John 2: 15-17.

 

My stupidity, coupled with my spiritual immaturity, caused me to ignore God and His calling on my life.  Yes, gifts are given without repentance.  

 

“For the gifts and calling of God are without repentance.”

Romans 11:29

This verse means that once God gives a gift or calls someone to a specific purpose, He does not change His mind or revoke those gifts or callings.  

God’s gifts, which include spiritual gifts, talents, and blessings, are given once and are not taken back. 

God’s callings, which are His specific purposes and plans for individuals, are permanent and do not change, even if people stumble or make mistakes.  

 

He is faithful, even when we are “faithless.” 

 

Boy, was I faithless when I went to Florida. 

I squandered my monies and time, and like the Prodigal Son, it took from 1977 until 1989 to get out of the hog trough I was in.  

I ate garbage from the world, and basically ignored the Teen Challenge Center in Tyler, Texas.  

I never went. 

 

Good news is, God is a God of Restoration. 

 

Twelve long years of prodigal living.

 

 I was so filled with shame and guilt, I didn’t even believe I was saved anymore.  

 

My sin took me way too far from God’s path in life. 

It was totally my fault.  I do not blame the devil or people.  I blamed Joe. 

 

Finally, when I did get back on the Glory Train, I stayed on the track. 

In 2018, I was supernaturally invited to an Adult and Teen Challenge Center in Estacada, Oregon.  I have been preaching there ever since.  From Texas where I live now, I travel twice a year to Oregon.  I conduct services in 7 prisons, Teen Challenge, and several churches. 

 

What I missed in 1977, God gave me a second chance to do things right.

 When I share my story with the men in the Adult and Teen Challenge center, regarding how I missed my opportunity back in 1977, they listen.  

I always tell them,

“So, you are here for a one-year stretch, to be set free from drugs and alcohol, right?  And I know many of you have thought about leaving early because you are saved now, and you feel the urgency to get on out int he world and fulfill your calling, right? 

Well, let me warn you about leaving early.  

There is a possible hog trough waiting for you, if you are not ready to do what God is asking you to do.  I know you miss your family.  I understand your wife is waiting for you, and your children miss you deeply. 

Just remember what I did.  I blew it.  It is never a good thing to get ahead of God.  It is horrible to lag and fall away.  It is another, to just get off His path for your life.   

Endure to the end, men.

You gave it your all when you were an addict.  

You spent all of your time and money doing your own thing.  

It is time to do God’s thing now.” 

 

After telling the men in the Teen Challenge Center these things, many come forward and receive Christ.  

Others, who were going to leave early, stay the course.  Many more, get set free. 

God is a God of Restoration.  

 

There are only two things in life worth living.  

I have explained them, and what NOT to do.   

 

Remember the joke at the beginning of this story?  

There are two things you worry about? 

What are they?  

 

If you do not have anything to worry about, then you are okay.  

Just do the two things in life.  It is worth living to do them.  It is not worth dying on the vine and finding out the hard way.  

Avoid the hog pen.  This world has nothing to offer except be a witness for Jesus.  

 

Anything less, is just a third thing.  

Remember, there are the two things in life. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Acclimating to Percolating

                                                  

Someone once said,

“Our lives, and how we live them are the only Bible some people will ever read.”

Just a thought. 

Sodom had no Bible, and unfortunately, thanks to Lot, it had no witness for Jehovah. 

 

When we look at the history of the nation of Israel, there is one thing that is unmistakable.  Jehovah had called them and commanded them to be a witness to the world around them.  It was for the nation of Israel to proclaim there was one true God, and that He was the creator of all things, and that all men should honor Him as the true God. 

Worship Him exclusively and serve Him as God in their lives. 

Lot could have been a witness, for he had every opportunity to influence Sodom for Jehovah. But he failed to do so. 

He had the privilege of being with his uncle Abraham (Abram) for most of his adult life, but it seems he failed to absorb very much of the qualities of this Godly man’s character and conduct. 

 

*And Lot lifted his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered everywhere, (before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah) like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt as you go toward Zoar.

 

Lot would rather gain wealth, than follow in the footsteps of Abraham. 

Lot was “acclimating" in this new land he thought would be a blessing. 

His getting used to and being comfortable with all of this was his demise. 

He and his two daughters had to flee the hills after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. 

They lived in a cave. 

He lived in a cave because he feared the people of Zoar. 

 

Lot’s daughters conceived children with their father Lot, after getting him drunk. 

 The firstborn daughter gave birth to Moab, who became the father of the Moabites. 

The younger daughter gave birth to Ben-Ammi, who became the father of the Ammonites. 

 

So much for acclimating. 

 

Look at the lineage. 

Ruth the Moabite traced her lineage back to Lot’s daughter. 

Ruth married Boaz, and their son, Obed, had a son named Jesse. 

Jesses’s son was King David, who was the descendent of Jesus. 

 

If we are going to acclimate at all, it pays to do so in the right place, with the right people at the right time. 

 

How do we do all this by faith in the Lord? 

I believe the Holy Spirit, as our Teacher and Comforter and Guide, will help us decide what to do, where to go and who to be with. 

We will know in our Spirit the decision we make. 

Yes, it is faith.  But the lack of peace in a decision is usually a warning sign. 

 

And our motivations to do this, or that, must be pure.   

 

Lot wanted money.  He got destruction instead.  Greed versus staying and obeying his Uncle Abraham. 

 

Acclimating: becoming accustomed to a new climate or to new conditions. 

 

In the technical sense: respond physiologically or behaviorally to a change in an environmental factor under controlled conditions. 

 

As Christians, “adapting” to living a different way is hard.  Adjusting to trying to live clean in an unclean world is difficult too with all the garbage being spewed on us with technology and perverted advertising even in stores we shop in.   

Spiritual acclimatization is the process of adapting to a spiritual life and growing in faith.  It must involve developing a relationship with Jesus, reading the Bible, and building healthy habits. 

 

Case in point:

When I got saved 47 years ago, in prison in Texas, there was one chapel service a week.  It was Protestant.  There was a Catholic service as well for those who wanted to go there. 

One. 

Only one. 

No Bible studies or classes on discipleship or prayer gatherings. 

Acclimation. 

I knew nothing about church, so this was my normal. 

 

If I wanted to pray with a Christian brother on the cell block that I knew back then, I had to take a chance of going to solitary confinement. 

(Now, today, it is called Administrative Segregation).

Nice. Ughhh.

 

This dangerous chance I had to take went like this: 

In the evening, after chow time, and when all the inmates were back on the block after work detail and other chores, we were in our cells from 6 p.m. until “rack up.” 

Locked in your cell at 10:00 p.m.

 

“Night, night, sleep tight.” 

 

Before racking up, every hour on the hour, the Boss Man would open all the cell doors to allow men to go to the day room and watch T.V. or go to the gym. 

So, when the cell doors opened, I would fast-walk, before all the cell doors slammed shut simultaneously, and go to my Christian brother’s cell on the block who I knew.  I had to hurry to jump inside his cell, before getting caught and crushed by the moving steel door.  

 

This only occurred when his cell mate left the cell (through a pre-planned signal we had between each other).  I would “cell swap” with my Christian brother’s cell mate as he was leaving the cell, and the two of us would pray and read the Bible for the one hour. 

 

Of course, there would be another “count time” within that hour, randomly, at times, which was not the normal routine by the Boss Man.   

 

We took the chance of the Boss Man recognizing me being in the wrong cell.  Getting caught meant going to the Warden and receiving punishment. 

First, solitary confinement for up to three months. 

Secondly, losing our “good time” accumulated through good behavior. 

Thirdly, “catching a case” we called it, would usually result in being transferred to another prison, or having more time added to our sentence. 

 

Risky business to pray. 

Deadly, too, in many ways, when the cell mate who left to go to the dayroom to watch T.V., found out I was in his cell, he would retaliate against me. 

This happened, and it was my fifth time having my nose broken in life. 

 

Some Christians in the free world, can’t even “get to the church on time, much less understand what prison, underground Christianity, even looks like. 

 

Why should they care anyway? 

 

We deserve to be in prison. 

Take the key and throw it away. 

Make sure you throw it far enough away from our cell, so we do not find it. 

(Amazing what a found key in prison would sell for on the open, black market, inside the maximum-security prison I was living in, back then). 

 

With respect to acclimation, the danger of being so used to where you are and what you are doing comes at a cost. 

It is called complacency. 

Getting comfortable in your Christianity. 

Jesus has never let me be comfortable, in any way, for the last 47 years. 

 

I had to count the costs of serving Him. 

 

Nothing wrong with a career for 40 years in banking or industry.  Living in the same house for the sum of those years is good. 

I am not talking about uprooting your life because you get bored. 

 

 I am speaking to the routine of being a Christian.   

 

Get up. 

Pray.

Read the devotional or daily bread. 

Get the app that gives you the scripture of the day. 

Worship.

Pray some more. 

 

This is all good and is a healthy routine and discipline. 

It is when we hurry our processes with Jesus. 

He longs for our time in our busy routines. 

Drive to work. Work.  Drive home.  Eat dinner, etc. 

Again, rinse and repeat. 

 

I believe when we are in tune with the Holy Ghost, He never lets us acclimate to anything except Him. 

We rid ourselves of distractions as best as possible and begin growing closer to Him in the process. 

 

Let's move on to Percolating. 

 

It refers to the old-fashioned coffee percolators. 

Fill with cold water. 

Put coffee grounds in the upper basket. 

Put lid on, and plug in.

 

It takes time, but eventually the sounds of the hot water pumping, up and over, those fresh grounds, smell good and sound good. 

 

Our faith, in the beginning, is the cold water. 

Jesus is the coffee grounds. 

The water, as it is heated up, is our faith getting activated. 

Faith in Jesus.  Better than an espresso. 

 

Once the coffee is done, we have not arrived in our great faith yet. 

We are just learning how to drink from the well of Jesus and His Word. 

We percolate. 

We enjoy the process. 

 

It is not a task; it is our duty to know Him and know Him more. 

The different processes of making coffee and roasting the beans is an art. 

 It all takes time. 

 

No matter the process you do, it results in the cup of coffee you desire. 

And for a lot of us, we are addicted.   

 

In the same way, as a Christian, we are constantly being refined. 

 

Like the coffee grounds being used for coffee, Jesus is being used, by us, to learn from Him. 

We toss the old grounds every day and start over with fresh grounds. 

Not with Jesus.  We do not toss Him in the garbage like the old grounds. 

Never. 

We keep finding ways to make the coffee taste better. 

We are being refined. 

There are over fifty references in the Bible to our being refined, smelted, strained, sifted, clarified, and otherwise, purified as believers. 

We are no different from those coffee beans in my cupboard. 

With every new sunrise (accompanied by a hot cup of coffee) in this fallen, sinful world, I am being refined for the glorious new world to come. 

I hope to have percolated to a proper pureness when that time comes. 

Like the aroma of fresh, French roast coffee, I hope I am a sweet, smelling fragrance in the nostrils of my Lord and Savior Jesus. 

 

Percolate your faith. 

Do it the way Jesus wants you to do. 

Besides, it is a personal relationship you and I have.  No saint does everything the same. 

We are all “churched” differently within the denominations, or non-denominational places of worship we belong to. 

 

Bubble over with joy. 

Keep hot and on fire for Jesus. 

Pour yourself into prayer. 

Drink of the wells of Salvation. 

And like Folger’s coffee jingle says: “Good to the last drop,” Jesus is good to the last drop of His shed Blood, for our ability to even come close to percolating in our faith the way He did with His Father. 

 

He is our example. 

We are either acclimating or percolating. 

 Learn how to acclimate correctly, and not negatively. 

Percolate the faith you have and never, never, unplug that coffee pot. 

He is your source for His flavor for your life. 

An unplugged pot has no power. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Our Great Silencer

                                                 

I am not talking today about the “silent treatment” that happens in marriage during and after a quarrel.  We all know what this is.  Obviously, not letting the sun go down on our anger is Biblical.  All I know is that I would rather wake up with noise, rather than silence. 

Moving on. 

We are surrounded with so many voices around us, and sometimes these sounds can be very frustrating, discouraging, and a killer from inside out. 

At one instance, Jesus and His disciples were traveling by in the sea, and suddenly the violent wind blew against them, and the waves broke over the boat, so that they almost flooded.  The disciples tried their best to control the situation with their own strength and intellect but failed miserably. 

You know this story. Jesus slept in the inner part of this boat.  His disciples were gripped with fear of death, and they went and woke Him saying, “

Teacher, don’t you care that we are drowning?” 

Of course He cared.  He calmed the storm. 

Luke 8: 22-25.  

How could Jesus sleep so deeply during chaos?  Jesus knew who He was, and He knew the Will of His Father. 

This He knew for His present and future challenges and pains. 

Especially His Cross coming. 

The disciples didn’t know this. 

Many people mistake Jesus’ silence just like the disciples did on the boat. 

 

“Why is Jesus silent when there is so much evil and chaos around?” 

 

The first thing to remind us of is: 

Jesus’ silence into our situations and trials, is not His ignorance or lack of care about us.  He is not surprised by our chaos.  He knows everything from eternity to eternity. 

 

Second reminder is:

Jesus’ silence does not mean His absence.  God will never leave you alone.  He is always with you and I, but He is closest to us in the toughest of our times.

 

The third important reminder is that Jesus’ silence is not His betrayal. 

God is very faithful, very merciful, exceedingly gracious, and extremely loving.  He will never let you down. 

We tend to drown ourselves in self-pity, doubt and unbelief at times.  Our boat of logic and misunderstanding about who and what Jesus is capable of, tends to sink our boat in this life, before it ever leaves the shore. 

 Sometimes it is a slow leak that happens and when the boat is full of water, it seems too late for our miracle. 

Not with Jesus.  He is there, always. 

Fourth, reminder is: 

The presence of God in your life might not stop the wind to come against you, but He will surely stop the wind from killing you.

 

No one on this planet, especially Christians, understands why some leave this planet sooner than others.  We do not understand or comprehend why this or why that happens, especially sudden death to a loved one. 

It is God’s Providence, and His alone, which His plan adheres to.  His Blueprints and Purposes of each life that loves Him, is under His complete control. 

From the beginning to the end of all things, has His Design and Thumbprint on it. 

For me and for you. 

For the righteous, and the sinner.  If they repent and accept Him as their Savior, He will be amid their storms too. 

He cares about those who do not love Him yet. 

He cares about everything. 

All things. 

Even every sparrow that hits the ground.  Are we not much more than a bird? 

Matthew 10:29.

Each sparrow does not hit the ground without God’s consent. 

 

He does not give us the “silent treatment at all.” 

 

Noah went through floods.  The floods did not overtake him.  Nor did anyone with him die. 

 Isaac went through famine, but famine couldn't touch him.  He was greatly blessed during that famine. 

Daniel went through the lion’s den.  (Not a lion like yours that sits on your lap wanting a treat.  Little kitty won’t devour you, just her food). 

 

The fifth and last reminder is: 

In Mark 4:35 Jesus said,

 

“Let us go over to the other side.  Jesus already told them, let us go, no matter what situation they might face.  He said with His actions, not words, that they would definitely reach the other side.”

 

God has already declared your purpose, and nothing can stop it. 

Well, you can delay it by doubting who is in your boat. 

Do not be anxious about anything.  Easier said than done. 

 

Case in point: 

Before I knew Jesus as Savior in prison, I almost died seven times in my addicted world I lived in.  Shot at.  Stabbed by the sting of beatings I took from the police and others.  Including my enemies. 

One case began in a Biker Bar.  You know the one.  (Well, maybe not personally, but in the movies).

I walked in. Drunk as a skunk.  (Maybe the dead skunk in the middle of the road we have all seen is the one that was on his way to a bar and got hit by a biker). 

I don’t know for sure. 

Anyway. 

 I ordered a cold, draft beer.  Looking around the room for the biggest, maddest, hairiest biker I could find. 

I walked up to him, as he sat at a table with his other Gorillas, and I tossed all the beer out of my glass into his face. 

After I woke up, I realized the right side of my face was broken, and that perhaps, I should leave. 

I went out to my pickup truck.  I remember these details vividly. 

It took ten minutes for me to put my key into the outside door lock to open my truck. 

Maybe I should not drive? 

I asked another drunk person leaving the bar, “Can you help me here?” 

He came over, and the both of us, with both our hands, clutching the ignition key together, got it open. 

Finally open. 

It was pouring down rain.  Great combination for a bad conclusion to this night. 

I did not have a designated driver.  They had not been invented until 1988.  Long after this insane night. 

The Center for Health Communication launched this Designated Driver Campaign, as an approach to slowing down drunk drivers. 

And of course, there was M.A.D.D.  Mothers against drunk drivers began in 1980. 

Neither program would have helped me in the early seventies. 

The only way of “slowing me down” was to take my keys, truck and my brain, and have it examined by a professional Lobotomist. 

 

And here I go.  I drove away in the pouring rain.  I passed a slow-moving car at 65 miles per hour on a curve.  It was a two-lane highway late at night. 

According to the police report anyway. 

 I do not remember much about this night. 

 

When I passed the car, I realized for a moment that I was no longer on the road.  I had passed this car, took out 90 feet of fence, and rolled the truck over. 

Not just any roll over. 

I hit the ditch head on at 65, and the truck flipped.  End over end, not a typical roll over. 

The rear of the truck landed on a huge fence post, which was part of the 90 feet of fence I destroyed. 

My truck.  Ughhh. 

The back glass of the truck popped out in one piece and was lying next to me in the front seat. 

Like it was a passenger. 

I did not wear a seat belt.  “I wonder why?” 

 

The truck back wheels were still spinning because the entire bed and rear of this truck were resting on a big fence post.  The front of the truck was gone, and the remnants of it were crushed against the firewall under the hood. 

Well, where the hood used to be. 

 

My battery from the truck was hanging off the right fender.  The bed of the truck was twisted like a pretzel. 

Get the picture yet?

 

I climbed out of the wreck, unscathed.  A small cut above my eye next to my eyebrow. 

That was it as far as injuries. 

I remember staring at my truck before the cops came. 

I looked at it and said to myself,

“If I could get it off that pole, I could drive home.” 

Sure thing. 

The police came and arrested me.  Charging me with drunk driving, destruction of private property (the fence), and no insurance. 

I blew into the breathalyzer, and blew a .32 blood alcohol number on the test. 

 I was close to a coma. 

An alcoholic coma usually results in death. 

 

I was in jail. 

 Bonded out, finally. 

Went to court. 

 

The court fined me and made me rebuild the 90 feet of fence for the property owner.  I had to go to Alcohol meetings, and I lost my license for one year, except for going to work, and meetings in A.A. 

 

When I arrived at the intake meeting for Alcoholics Anonymous, I was greeted by a professional. 

He evaluated me for thirty minutes and finally said.

“Mr. Wilkins, you are a seven on the scale from one to four, four being the worst addict, regarding alcohol abuse.  I have never seen anyone as lucky as you to survive that wreck, and your addictions.” 

 

The point? 

I ended up helping him teach the class. 

 

Jesus protected me from the time I was conceived in my mother’s womb. 

 All the times that my self-inflicted wounds from overdoses, crime, shootings, and car wrecks, tried to kill me. 

He was there.  He is there still. 

Watching over us and silencing all the things that try to put our soul in a grave. 

 

Jeremiah declares,

“Before I formed you in the matrix of the womb, I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” 

 

I am not Jeremiah by any stretch of the imagination. 

What I am is forgiven. 

What I was, is under the Blood of Jesus. 

What I will become, is His servant, which I became, back in 1977, the day I was born again in prison. 

 

The prison I was in was mean. 

I was mean.

Jesus is not mean.

He is meaningful in His Plan. 

 

He protected me from that self-destructive lifestyle. 

He protected me from two major car accidents back in the 1990’s. 

He watched over me in surgeries I have had. 

He protected and still is protecting my wife and two grown sons. 

He is the Protector, and the Great Silencer. 

Our Great Silencer. 

 

He silences the enemy of our souls, Satan.  The accuser of the brethren is dead in my eyes.  Jesus silences the grave as a believer in Him.   

 

“‘O death, where is your sting?  O Hades, where is your victory?’ The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our lord Jesus Christ.”

1st Corinthians 15: 55-57

 

Silencer.  There is only One.  His Name is Jesus. 

 

Before I went to prison, I was in the last stages of building a real silencer for a firearm. 

I worked in a machine shop and had everything to make one. 

 I had the measurements from the gun. 

I met with the man who owned it.  It had no serial numbers. 

 

The good news.  I was arrested before I could finish it. 

There is nothing good that would have come from a silencer I made for a criminal family member.  I am so grateful for Jesus stopping me in my tracks so that piece of unfinished polished steel was never completed. 

 It would have worked.  It would have done its job. 

Lives would have ended by me. 

I would not have pulled the trigger.  I might as well have. 

I almost finished building it.  My part was the killer machinist. 

This kind of silencer is deadly.   

 

Jesus is the Good Silencer. 

He silences death. 

He puts to shame the ignorant plans of Satan. 

He then speaks loudly, after silencing your soul with love, so pain and lies die off your life.  Once and for all. 

Jesus is Our Great Silencer. 

He does what He does, without ever pulling a trigger. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Birthday Milestones

 

 I had my 69th birthday a few days ago and tonight, my wife, her sister, and my youngest son, celebrated the birthday again. 

I call it my birthday week, not just a day.  It is a good excuse to eat more. 

I was asked tonight what a past birthday milestone for me was. 

After a moment of memory flashbacks, and deciding which one to talk about, I will share two with those who may read this. 

 

First is my 21st birthday. 

I won’t spend but two sentences on that one. 

I turned 21 in prison. 

Not like Merle Haggard’s song, “Mama Tried.” 

In his song, he wrote,

“I turned 21 in prison, doing life without parole.  No one could steer me right, but Mama tried, Mama tried.  Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.  That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.” 

 

Good news for me, in 1976, I was not doing a life sentence.  I should have. 

If the two attempted murder charges I did had been murder, then someone else would be writing this. 

On my 21st birthday, while in prison, the decision regarding my parole hearing came to me, via a letter from the Board of Pardons and Paroles. 

Parole Denied. 

End of that birthday. 

I wrote more than two sentences, didn’t I? 

 

The next one, a jubilant one, was my 50th birthday. 

 

I was around 36 years old when I started prison ministry.  Over those years, and up to this milestone birthday, I had met and ministered to hundreds of inmates.   

One, I will never forget.  The year was 2002, and I was preaching at the Sheridan Federal Prison in Sheridan, Oregon. 

I had been preaching there for several years and got to know many of the men personally.   I had led many of my new friends in prison to Jesus Christ. 

This one inmate was about 40 years old.  He had been coming to my services for two years and sat on the carpeted steps leading out of this chapel.  He did not want to sit near the pulpit I preached from. 

Certainly, not on the front row.  

He came up to me after one of the services and proclaimed to me,

 

“Joe, next Wednesday when you are here again, marks my next birthday.  If you will preach a good sermon for my birthday, and make it personal, maybe I will meet your Jesus, OKAY?” 

 

That is a lot of pressure for me, but I agreed to make it personal. 

I went home, and before the next Wednesday arrived, I got out my Bible, concordance, and notes I had saved from previous sermons. 

All my ammunition was in front of me to preach a blockbuster sermon for this man. 

I worked and worked the Bible, trying to figure out a catchy title, along with scriptures about birthdays. 

The best birthday, in the Bible, is about Jesus and His birth in a manger. 

 

So, I am dissecting the Gospels, one by one, and after an hour of this long, manger-to-the-cross-of-Calvary sermon I was working on, the Holy Ghost whispered to me,

 

“Joe, just preach on My Love.” 

 

Well, I tore up the sermon and just decided to take a stab at winging it. 

When I arrived at the prison the next Wednesday, my birthday man was there with anticipation in his brown eyes. 

Jesus speaking: 

 

“Now when they bring you to the synagogues and magistrates and authorities, do not worry about how or what you should answer, or what you should say. For the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say.”

Luke 12:11-12.

 

Winging it and trusting the Lord on this birthday sermon.  Not just for him, but for all the men in attendance. 

I preached from my spiritual well and told stories of my life to the men. 

When the time came for the altar invitation, I had the men bow their heads for a moment. 

Every man had their heads bowed, except my birthday target. 

He is just staring at me. 

 

I invited the men to raise their hands to receive the Lord Jesus as their Savior, and many hands went up.  Including the “staring-at-me man.” 

I asked those who raised their hands to come forward so I could pray for them. 

The men came, except for, you know who. 

 

After praying for the men, I closed the service.  I went to leave, and I was cornered by Mr. Birthday. 

He said, “Joe, do you see this scar under my chin that runs from ear to ear?” 

“Yes,” I said back to him.  

 (I had seen the scar before with the few times we had conversed). 

 

He told me the story. 

“Right before I came to prison, I hated my life, and my wife.  I wanted to kill myself.  I got in my car, without a seat belt, and purposely drove my car at 70 miles per hour directly into a telephone pole. I walked away without a scratch. Well, I am not even good at this, much less my marriage.” 

He continued,

“Then, I walked home, and got my pistol, and called the cops.  I expected them to kill me if I drew my pistol.  They showed up, and I pulled my gun on them in my living room.  They postured themselves away from me and demanded I drop the weapon.  I lost my courage to shoot them or have them kill me.”  

(This is called Suicide by Cop.) 

“So, I dropped my pistol and pulled out my pocketknife.  They did not arrest me quick enough, to keep me from slitting my throat from ear to ear, deeply.”   

(Hence, the scar on his neck, from ear to ear.) 

He said,

“Joe, that did not work either, because I did not bleed to death.  The police who were in my home that day, put a tourniquet on my neck.  I found out later, I missed the main vein in my neck when I sliced myself open.  Blood was everywhere.  I was charged for multiple felonies after my hospital stay, and that is why I am here.” 

 

I responded,

“Sounds to me that God spared your life, young man.  First the car wreck you walked away from.  Secondly, you could have been shot to death by the police.  And, finally, you slit your throat.” 

Any other person would have died the first attempt. 

But not him. 

I believe God spared this man. 

 

I asked him if he meant business by raising his hand. 

He said, “Yes, Joe, yes I did mean business.” 

 I thought, “Great.”

We talked some more, and he discussed why he raised his hand but did not come forward for prayer. 

He told me that he just is not ready yet. 

I honored his thoughts, said happy birthday, and left. 

 

The next Wednesday, he surrendered to Jesus and was born-again. 

 

So, now to my 50th birthday celebration, and why it is such a milestone. 

 

I had met a lady in Colorado, through another inmate, and she invited us to minister in some prisons in Colorado.  She and her husband were preachers for years, primarily in prisons. 

 

On my 50th birthday, I checked my mail at the local post office.  I had a box there for ministry mail. 

I got a package and inside the package was a letter, and 50 cards. 

The letter was from the prison ministry lady from Colorado:

“Dear Joe, enclosed are 50 individual birthday cards from men you have been preaching to at Sheridan for all these years.  Many of them have transferred to other prisons in other states.  Happy Birthday, Joe.”

 

Enclosed were handmade cards from men who I remember from many years of preaching.  Each one spoke of how they were saved under the ministry God had given me. 

Every card basically said the same congratulations to me. 

 

Towards the end of the pile, was a card from the man at Sheridan who had cut his throat. 

It read,

 

“Dear Preacher Joe, Happy Birthday, and may you always remember my birthday again sometime and send me a card.  I have been serving Jesus, ever since you prayed for me that time at Sheridan.  I was transferred to the Kentucky Federal prison and will be released soon.  God Bless you, Joe.”

 

Inside the card was an actual picture of him wearing a tuxedo. 

Men in the Federal system, upon a visit by family, can use free world clothes for pictures with family after visitation.  Many drive or fly from far away to visit their inmate family members. 

 

It is a great gesture for the men.  At least for two hours during a visit, they can feel like a normal human being with nice clothes. 

He had worn a tuxedo to have that picture taken, just to send to me.

On the back of the picture it read,

“Happy 50th, Joe.  Keep preaching about the love of Jesus, wherever you go.  I love you.” 

 

In this picture, if you look closely, you will still see the scar on his neck. 

A reminder of how God saved this man from suicide. 

Not once, not twice, but three times. 

To him, I am sure, every day he is alive to serve the Master Jesus, is a birthday to him. 

 

Scars remind us of our pain. 

Physical, mental, and emotional scars are there.  Only the physical ones show. 

The others do not show, but they are visible, indeed. 

How so?  

 When a physical scar has healed, it leaves a reminder of the pain.

If mental or emotional scars are not healed, they leave a visible scar on the outside that everyone can see. 

It is called sadness.  Sorrow.  Depression.  Anger, etcetera. 

 

 Jesus can heal us physically.  He can make the blind see, and the lame walk. 

He can also open our hearts, and do secret surgery, so those outward scars I just spoke about, will disappear eventually. 

All you must do is ask Him. 

“Jesus, heal me from the inside out.” 

 

Let this day be a real BIRTH-day. 

The birth of your broken heart healed. 

It is a milestone, you know. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

A Divine Desperation

1991 began many moments with Jesus, many of them I did not know was HIM doing what He does…orchestrating appointments for me to be a witness to others. 

Many times, I was just in the right place, and the right time (His time), with the ones He wanted me to meet. 

 

Mr. Cobb:

 

While landscaping on a Friday late afternoon with Pro-Care Properties in Portland, Oregon, In work in the town of Beaverton, Oregon, a suburb of Portland, I was finishing my day by using a blower to blow leaves in the late fall.

It is payday and my meager 8 dollars an hour didn’t pay much, but I was glad to be working. 

Living in my car, going through a bunch of self-inflicted trials, I was also grateful to have a car that ran, and a place of shelter.  Sleeping at the Truckstop Southbound Interstate 5, or at the rest area every evening became challenging. It was starting to get colder and colder at night, with rain increasing, as well. 

 

So, as I was finishing up my job, a Jeep Wagoneer pulled up next to me.

A man with one ear got my attention, so I turned off the blower to engage him. 

“Hello,” he exclaimed, “I’m Mr. Cobb.” 

I told him my name and asked him how I could help him.  

 (Remember, I have not prayed much in those early days of ministry, and didn’t understand spiritual warfare, or even how to believe, by faith, much of anything).

 

He asked me how much the company I worked for charged for landscaping; I told him twenty-five dollars an hour. 

“Oh,” he said under his breath, “I can’t afford that.” 

Mr. Cobb then informed me that he had an apartment complex nearby. He needed someone to rake leaves. 

I said, “Well, tomorrow, Saturday, is my day off, and I would be willing to do the job for you for $15.00 an hour.” 

He agreed, gave me the address, and said there was a shed that had lawn and leaf bags, rakes etcetera. So, I was supposed to show up at 8 a.m.

 “I will meet you at 5 p.m. and pay you.”

  OK. 

He drove off and I said, “Lord Jesus, thank you for the extra work.” 

I thought, the whole time, that I would be able to afford a motel room for at least one night, to shower and sleep comfortably, instead of having to shower at the truck stop and sleep in my car. 

 

The following morning, the test of a lifetime to me was beginning to unfold. 

I arrived at 8 a.m., as promised, to the worst rainstorm of the fall weather in the Portland area. 

Drenched from head to toe, with no rain gear, I raked ten flower beds, with two-foot deep, wet leaves, and put them in the bags. 

It was about 47 degrees outside, and the rain never stopped or let up. 

Deluge. 

It took me all day, bent over, and drenched from head to toe.

 

At the end of the day, I had 80 bags filled and stacked 5 feet high near the dumpster where he told me to leave them.  I didn’t even make a dent in this huge World War 2 era apartment complex, three stories high, with about 124 units. 

 

At 5 o’clock, Mr. Cobb arrived and was impressed with what I had accomplished. 

He paid me for 8 hours work,

And then, out of nowhere, he asked,

“Where do you live, Joe?” 

(Under my breath, I exclaimed, “Not too far from here,” not willing to reveal I was living in a 1979 Datsun B-210).

“Well, Joe, if you are willing, I have a one-bedroom apartment available and if you want to work for me as much as you can on your days off or in the evenings, you can have the apartment rent- free, no utilities to pay and you can move in whenever you want.” 

He reached into his pocket and dangled the keys to Unit #1 and said,

“Go ahead and move in today, Joe, if you want.” 

Wow! 

I stood there as Mr. Cobb drove away with cash in hand, a set of keys to an apartment, and I began crying. 

 

What was the test of a lifetime?  

Well, I could have showed up to the job with monsoon weather, and looked at all the work to do, with no rain gear, and said to myself,

 “Nah, this isn’t worth $15 an hour in this kind of weather,” and moved on.

But God had a plan, and I had to pass the test. 

 

I had to learn to cast aside how I felt physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, and be a man of my word and show up to work on time…. even though, it would have been a lot easier to drive away and get a motel room for the night. 

He paid me $15 an hour for all the hours I worked for the next year, landscaping, painting the interior of apartments, and maintenance work that the empty apartments needed. 

God honored my decision not to quit.  Not to give up.  Not letting rain and 47-degree weather with 20 mph winds stop His Will for me. 

 

Mr. Cobb. 

A one-eared property manager who just happened to drive up on a Friday afternoon looking for a willing vessel. 

Who would have thought. 

God did. 

 

And I lived in apartment #1, the old Perry Mason foyer- style apartment complex where you had to push a buzzer from inside your apartment to allow anyone into the hallway for entry. 

So good is the God of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob, to look down on me that day. 

 

Homeless, working for 9 dollars an hour, and very grateful to have that. 

 

He saw my condition and fixed my condition in a moment of time. 

No credit check, no application to rent, no background check (thank God), and no pretense. 

Just a man needing help with his property, and a born-again ex-convict saved by grace in need of a shower, food, a roof over his head, and hope. 

 

Well, Mr. Cobb may have been just a man. 

But he was a man sent from God for Joe. 

No doubt! 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Run for Your Life

 

Run for your life.  

 The primary focus on the call of God on my life, has been to minister to those in prisons.  I have done County Jail Ministry as well.  Because I lived in prison in 1976, the men I bring the Gospel of Jesus to, are very attentive.  They get the fact that, “You can’t con an ex-con.”  

Many have been a dead man walking for years.

 It is time to run for your life. 

Each week, I do a class to 88 men.  Once this 4-month class is over, they graduate, and I start with a new 88. 

By the time the class ends, the men have had the opportunity every week to surrender to Jesus.  I never miss an altar invitation.  It is the most critical time in a ministry environment, where the Holy Ghost is present in. 

 Many men ask me over and over,

“How did you make it outside of prison for so many years?”  

It has been 48 years this September, when I was released in 1977. 

One of the most important things that I instruct the men about is as follows. 

Number One: Work a job.  

You may be a qualified welder prior to prison, but unless you are willing to flip burgers while you wait on the welding job, then you may wait a long time. 

I joke around a lot too.  I will say to them,

“If you are a certified brain surgeon prior to your incarceration, you should have done a frontal lobotomy on yourself.  

If it worked, then you could have avoided prison all together.” 

 

Number Two: Find a good church, and hope it teaches the Bible.  

You will know in time where you belong.  Church attendance is not optional.  

Some pastors will know right away that you just exited prison.  So be it.  If they embrace you, that is good.  If they don’t, then dust off your shoes, and move on. 

Do not try and warm up to the shepherd who guards their flock.  Most are keen on wolves in sheep's clothing.  

Do not try and toot your horn to the pastor.  In time, they will know you are the real deal, and opportunity will knock for you to exercise your gifts from the Lord Jesus. 

You are an outsider to many congregation members once they find out where you have been.  

If you truly love Jesus and He is in command over your life, He will help you fit in.  

He will help you find a job too. 

 

Number Three: Keep your mouth shut.  

This involves leaving the tooting horn at home on Sunday morning and Wednesday evening.  

No one cares about the call of God on your life the first few months of attending a church.  Let God promote you.  You are not in charge of opportunities.  He is.

Case closed on this instruction. 

Sounds harsh?  

Well, my experience tells us everything needed to know about former inmates, offenders, or convicts (there are no politically correct words here), that find their way into the church house.

There is a vast difference in the three mentioned terms for former incarcerated people. 

Just know, without a long explanation, that the convict is the manipulator.  

“Women, watch your purses on Sunday morning.” 

 

When I pioneered our first of two churches from 2003-2007, the rules applied from the moment a man came into the church, just out of prison. I knew each of them personally.  

Of course, I invited these men to come.  

 

But there are rules in God’s House. 

I made them, with a gentle nudge, come and sit in the front row with me and my wife. They sit to my left, and then I sit next to them, with my wife to my right.  I do not let her stand during worship.  

There is a valid reason for this.  

I did not want them sitting in the middle or back of the church during worship, scheming, and eyeballing the women standing up and worshiping the Lord.  

I know what they are doing.  

I know what they are lusting after too. 

This keeps them accountable to me and to the church body.  

Church is not a place to look for a wife.  Neither is a bar.  

The point is, if they do not want to comply with me, then they can move on.  Prison life, and years behind bars causes a man to think a certain way.  Even if he loves Jesus, the lure to find drugs, a woman, and all the flesh issues they missed out on, exists from the moment they leave prison. 

Took one to know one.  

Me. 

If they could last one week in our church, then they would last for a long time.  

Most did not like my rules. 

 

The denomination I was involved in during this first church plant, was dogmatic about many things.  I did not fit into their mold.  

Therefore, I allowed a pastor to take over the ministry after two years, and I moved on.  Nothing is wrong with this.  I never agree to disagree.  

If I see doctrinal differences, or flat-out misnomers in the denomination, I will not tolerate compromise of God’s Word, and the preaching of it.  

I have no problem calling out stupidity.  

I do it with love, always. 

 “Hold fast the pattern of sound words which you have heard from me, in faith and love which are in Christ Jesus.  That good thing, which was committed to you, keep by the Holy Spirit who dwells in us.”

2nd Timothy 1:13-14

 What is said in these scriptures is basically Paul encouraging the young pastor Timothy to faithfully hold onto the true teaching he received.  

Paul taught him well.  Paul emphasized the importance of sound doctrine and the protection of God’s entrusted Truth through the Power of the Holy Spirit.  

Paul urges Timothy to “Guard the good deposit” that was entrusted to him.  

The Gospel Message. 

We must depend on the Holy Ghost and diligently study the Scriptures for ourselves.  This will enable us to guard the treasure of the Gospel which is always under attack. 

 

In Hebrews 10:22, the meaning of being cleansed from guilt and a bad conscience through the Blood of Christ, allows believers to approach God with a true, clean heart, and in full assurance of faith. 

This word also describes, having our hearts “sprinkled’ from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. 

The Old Testament uses “sprinkled,” as in blood sacrifices.  

The New Testament, provides the Blood of Jesus which is presented as the ultimate Sacrifice that cleanses believers from sin and guilt, enabling them to have a pure conscience. 

 

An evil conscience is always burdened with guilt. 

Men come out of prison, who I have watched grow up in their faith in Jesus; over many calendar years; they are sincere.  They do not need rules and regulations from me in how to behave in church.  

They also know, after hearing me preach for twenty plus years, that the same rules apply.  

Get out of prison.  Get a job.  Go to church.  Keep your mouth shut. 

They never forget, though some of them have been away from society for 20 and sometimes 30 years.  I have one man who got out last year, from a 30-year sentence. 

He told me that it took him two weeks to figure out a cell phone.  They didn’t have these mobile devices back in the day.  

Pay phones or land lines was the norm. 

 

Adapting to the free world is so much easier for most Christian men who have done time.  

They understand losing.  

They lost their families, friends, jobs, livelihoods and their freedom.  

All in one massive mistake.  

It cost them more than they wanted to pay.  But they had to.  

No choice. 

 

So many people who have never done prison time can never understand the mentality of a prisoner.  

They are not expected to.  They have never been behind bars.  

Thank God for that. 

But what about the steel around their hearts living a mundane existence?  

What about the dead-end job they have been working for the past 12 years?  

The marriage?  

The hopes?  

The everything? 

 

If anyone does not know Jesus as their Savior and working towards Him being the Lord and Master over their lives, they are in prison.  

They do not feel the steel and concrete.  They do not have to fight a fellow inmate weekly to survive.  

But they are fighting.  

 

They are fighting against complacency.  They war against joy and peace.  

Non-believers in Christ should have no hope.  It is the norm for those who seek truth and never find it.

 It is because He is the truth. Jesus said,

“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no man comes to the Father, except by Me.”

John 14: 6

So, how long does a person wait?  

No Jesus.  Know Peace?  

How long must a person wait out their death sentence, while living for the weekend? 

How much longer is the same old same old, going to last? 

 

This is up to you.

 

 It is not the same old, same old, with Christ.  

Though it has been over 2,000 years since the Resurrection, it is never old.  It is new.  Every Spring, we celebrate. 

We should.  We must.  

It is our duty as Believers in Jesus Christ to celebrate Him, daily.  

Why wait for a holiday? 

Come out of your prison cell and never go back.  

You were your own Judge, Jury, and Executioner.  

Put down your gavel.  Release those 12 jurors now.  

The gallows will have to creak and groan another day.   

Just not for you.  

When you find the answer, you have been looking for all along, your death sentence is commuted.  

His Blood bought your pardon from death and the Hangman’s noose.

His Name is Jesus.  

Court is adjourned. You are found not guilty. You get to live another day.  

I hope you live it, for Jesus.  

Otherwise, the old cell door is still open.  

Run for your life.  It is worth the race.  

No sense in walking to death. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Costume Jewelry

                                                       

 

Good Ole’ Granny. 

Boy, did my grandmother reflect the essence of the word “gaudy.” 

Heavy, shiny, and overdone was the jewelry she wore.  If it was a Sunday-go-to-meeting event at her church, then add more weight to her sagging earlobes with a hunk of her costume jewelry.  That was Granny. 

Thank God for Granny and her prayers for me. 

The following account of my time with her became prophetic.  It is a bitter-sweet time. 

Me, two days after being released on bond at Granny’s apartment, March 1975.

 

I was out on a $250,000 bond from Dallas County, Texas.  My Uncle, Grandmother’s son, helped me get out of jail in early March of 1975. 

I had committed my first attempted murder, to come into my pathetic, drug-addicted life. 

I spent time in the Dallas County Jail from December 27th of 1974, through early March of 1975, before the bond could be issued.  Part of my bond was where I was to live.  Granny’s apartment became my dwelling place.  My job was at a machine shop, 30 minutes away from the apartment I shared with my dear Grandmother. 

Every Sunday morning, even though I was hungover from booze and Meth, she dragged me out of bed to go to church with her.  I remember her saying, “Joseph, get up.  It is Sunday-go-to-meeting-time.  Hurry up, Grandson.” 

Sometimes, she had to physically pull my ear to get me to get up.  Ouch. 

While in the service at her Baptist Church, I would listen with deaf ears.  Yes, deaf to anything spiritual back then.  I was a maniac, and she knew it. 

Bless her heart, she tried to cope with an insane drug addict. 

Me. 

The old preacher would come out and begin his sermon.  I was surprised (in my mind then) that he did not need sunglasses to block out the bright lights coming from all the purple and grey-haired folks in the congregation.  Seriously.  I was the only young person there.  All elderly.  All purple or grey hair. 

I saw all of this and really didn’t care.  I was there for Granny, not me. 

Little did I know, later in life, that being at this Baptist Church would have such an impact on me, prior to finally ending up in prison.  If only I would have had real ears to hear with.  I would not have ended up in prison, had I taken a simple step. 

The Pastor would give his message, which I totally ignored.  Then, when he was done, he would grab the chair behind him and maneuver it to the front next to his pulpit. 

He would then say with a booming preacher voice,

“If there is anyone here, anyone at all, who does not know the Lord Jesus as your Savior and Lord, I encourage you to come up and sit in this chair. I would be honored to pray for you.  Please come?” 

His appeal was strong on me. 

The Holy Spirit (didn’t know this back then) was bringing heavy conviction to my wicked heart.  I stood up, like everyone else in the crowd, during this invitation to be prayed for. 

The cloth pew in front of me, as I stood became my victim.  I dug my fingernails into the cloth as I leaned my weight on the wood and cloth of the pew lean-back. 

 I dug in so hard; I tore the cloth. 

I wanted to go sit in that chair.  I needed to sit in that chair.  God needed me to respond, and I ignored it all.  Only anger replaced conviction. 

The costume jewelry that Granny wore reflected the fake life I was living. 

The weight of her earrings was heavy, just like the heaviness of my sin upon my young, 18-year-old life of addiction and insanity. 

“If anyone among you thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this one’s religion is useless.”

“Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this; to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.” 

 James 1:26-27.

Coupled with this scripture, is in this same chapter,

"For if anyone is a hearer of the Word, and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was.” 

Verse 24, James 1.

I quote these for a reason. 

Number One: I was a fake person, all along. 

I was like that jewelry Granny wore. 

Not real.  Never to be authentic. 

Shines, yes.  But it was not a genuine article.  Counterfeit living.  I didn’t visit any orphans or widows in their troubles.  I was the orphan in need of a visit by Jesus.  I ignored the voice and pulling or drawing of the Holy Spirit in that Baptist church in Richardson, Texas.  It was just North of Dallas. 

I was about to be orphaned fully once I got to prison.  But for those Sunday mornings, I had a chance.  Like Jonah, I was running to Tarshish, instead of Ninevah. 

Was I to get a second chance, like Jonah? 

Time would tell.  In prison, I had lots of time to think. 

I observed myself in a mirror.  I was a drug addict.  Eyes sunk back into my skull.  Hard shell, for sure.  The hard headedness was pale, in comparison to my wicked, hard, concrete heart. 

 

Number Two, I had forgotten what kind of man (young man) I was.  Why? 

I forgot, because there was nothing to remember. 

I was not a man.  I was an 18-year-old, broken-hearted boy, who had a multitude of issues. 

You can’t remember something you never were. 

No memory loss there.  Just no memory. 

The best thing that ever happened to me were those Sundays with Granny. 

That preacher did preach God’s Word, though I did not listen with spiritual ears then.  The Word of God never comes back void, without any fruit attached.  The issue was me and my ability to produce anything good. 

No fruit yet, but it would come inside of a maximum-security prison, soon to be in my young future. 

1st John1: 6-10.  "If we say we have fellowship with Him, and walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.  But if we walk in the Light as He is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the Blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.”

 

It was not God who sent me to prison. 

I sent myself there. 

How? 

I rejected Christ in the Baptist church. 

My sin took me further than I wanted to go, and it did cost me more than I was willing to pay.  It is called, reaping what I had sown. 

I needed cleansing from the inside out.  I needed hope, in a hopeless place called prison.  Not just any prison.  The “Gladiator Farm,” called Ferguson Unit, in 1976.  “Horrible” does not describe this criminal, insane asylum. 

I need His cleansing. 

I needed His light, to burn away my darkness of sin. 

His Blood did both. 

It began the healing process in my wicked heart. 

One beat at a time. 

What costume jewelry do you wear, that is not seen by anyone outwardly? 

Are they earrings of emotional suicide? 

Is it, perhaps, a broach of bitterness? 

Maybe, it has elements of shiny stones in it. 

It can be a necklace. 

One of many strands of fake pearls. 

Possibly, the necklace you wear in your spirit is really a hangman's noose.  I suggest you untie it and throw it away. 

It is costume jewelry, and worthless. 

 

The problem is, so many people consider the fake as real.  They substitute the truth for a lie.  We sometimes, not wanting to, become complacent and bitter. 

The Blood of Jesus can fix all of this. 

 

Good Ole’ Granny. 

I found out from her daughter, years later, after she passed into eternity, a truth.  My dear, Aunt Wanda told me the truth about what happened when I lived with her in 1975-1976. 

“Joseph,” she said to me, “my mother did not eat for days when you lived there with her.  It was not her choice.  She could not afford to feed you and feed herself. 

She took you to church in her 1973 Chevrolet Vega, with no gasoline in the tank.  She drove, by faith, to see her Grandson in church. 

She was forced, because of hunger, to fast, unwillingly, for you.  She prayed a lot for you Joe.  She told me while you were in prison, that she spoke in tongues all night long for you.  She loved you.  More importantly, she wanted the love of Jesus to love you more. “

 

After my aunt told me this, I was floored. 

Not because of guilt or shame of how I put her through so much hell living with her back then.  I was an ungrateful grandson.  I could not help myself in my addiction.  She never really pressured me to do anything except go to work, stay out of trouble, and go to church with her. 

I never realized back then that she was losing weight because of me. 

Yes, fasting helps with weight loss.  Granny only weighed 80 pounds before I moved in with her.  She did not need a weight loss program called: a selfish grandson. 

She must have weighed 60 pounds when we went to church the last time before I left her and did my last attempted murder. 

She never frowned in her weight loss.  She sang hymns most every day we were together. 

Especially in the evening, after I was off work. 

She never complained about being hungry.  She smiled the whole day long.  Yes, smiled in her hunger.  Her true hunger was to see her Grandson Joe, saved. 

My Aunt Wanda told me that, when the news came to her that I had received Christ as my Savior in 1977, while still in prison, she wept. 

Wanda was with her mother that day when this news came. 

Wanda told me that she collapsed on to the rug. 

With her face in the fibers of the rug, weeping and Glorifying Jesus. 

Her kneeling bench in the apartment I lived in with her was in the closet.  In her room late at night, I would holler for her, and she did not answer right away. 

I hollered because I was hungry.  She would eventually come out of her room and cook me something. 

All the while, humming a song.  Another hymn. 

I selfishly ate my food in my room, away from this tongue-talking Granny and her two poodle dogs, Sissy and Papa. 

Granny.  Good ole Grandmother. 

Her costume jewelry was fake.  So be it. 

Her prayers were real though.  They did get answered in God’s timing. 

His timing is always perfect.  He is the Lord Our God who heals us. 

I never knew she spent hours in her prayer closet with a kneeling bench. 

I did remember one thing.   
 

She rubbed ointment on her knees every evening, watching Ed Sullivan reruns. 

Her aged knees hurt.  Not from old age. 

But from praying for her Grandson. 

Me. 

Her prayers worked. 

No costume jewelry here. 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Crossroads and Crosshairs

                                                 

 

We have all come to a dead-end road at times in this thing called life. 

Can’t stop and turn around.  It is a dead end, not a crossroad.  Can’t turn left or right either. 

Crossroads are intended for us to decide in life, whether it be for anything involving our future. 

Like a car at a T- intersection with a stop sign only at our end.  Not on the road ahead of us.  Left or right turn only.  Of course, you can stop, looking for both ways to be safe in traffic. 

 

Not talking about cars.  I am talking about you and me in our decisions in life. 

 

Pondering the turn, we need to make it critical to try and hear from the Lord about our decisions.  We will make mistakes and turn left instead of right.  This is life. 

A learning lesson about how to grow and to learn what “not” to do the next time. 

My whole life has been about choices. 

 

In the “crossroads” of life is also a thing called the “crosshairs.”  

Not in a scope on a rifle as most would think.  It is the being able to look through the lens of God’s Word, to pinpoint in the crosshairs the exact meaning of the Word, to be able to make a good decision. 

Most of us do not pray about our decisions. 

We just go with the flow, or we do this or that cause Daddy did it.  Or the fellow who we looked up to did it.  Or our peers did it. 

What about how God feels when we do not include Him in our decision making? 

 

Does He feel left out? 

 

Well, to say God is not human is an understatement. 

He does, however, feel. 

The Holy Spirit is easily grieved when we sin, of course.  But He also grieves too when we do not let Him in on our decision-making process. 

 

What is this process? 

Number One: Stop. 

Number Two: look at the decision, and do the pros and con’s dissecting the possible outcome. 

Still, after this, we do not know for sure how our decision will turn out.  This is called faith. 

 

Faith is a substance.  A tangible feel, and a real power in operation towards an outcome.  Hopefully an outcome to benefit the one who is having the faith to start with.   

 

Crosshairs. 

Definition: None, Biblically. 

So, I will give you, my definition.  The Cross of Calvary means sacrifice, service, and suffering.  Jesus suffered.  At times in our life, we have suffered too.  Does not mean it is in vain.  Jesus did not die in vain. 

He died so we could live. 

Figuratively, it signifies being directly targeted or focused on, much like the way a gun’s crosshairs pinpoint a target.  It can be interpreted as a metaphor for being under intense scrutiny or facing potential danger, often with negative connotations related to judgment or persecution.  Essentially, “in the crosshairs" means being the center of attention, often with negative implications. 

Yes, that was a lot. 

But this intense scrutiny on your part has to include the Lord Jesus. 

Notice that the word crosshairs has the word “Cross” in it. 

 

The Cross of Jesus Christ on Calvary. 

 

Since we have given our lives over to being a follower of Jesus, we are in the crosshairs of an enemy who wants to destroy, kill, and steal our lives away. 

Satan has you and I in his crosshairs to kill you.  His weapons are not carnal either.  They are spiritual. 

Deceit, lies, misinformation, and counterfeit ideas bombard our minds. 

 

Once we give over to a negative thought like, “I am a failure, I am a “no- good -for- nothing,” then we open the door for lies to come to invade, take over, and destroy the Word of God in us. 

We did not intend this to happen, but circumstances dictated the pain.  Loss of a friend.  Failing in a job or school.  Letting down those around us.  Just plain making mistakes. 

Mistakes are not forever.  We have all done our share.  The mistakes we make should not dictate our future.  Our future is built on learning from our mistakes.  They should never rule us. 

Now, the center of attention, regarding crosshairs, spiritually. 

 

Jesus, our Savior and Lord (as we mature in the things of God), will never change His mind about us.  He is the one who saved us by the power of the Holy Ghost revealing Himself to us. 

 

Martin Luther said, “If I profess with the loudest voice and clearest exposition, every portion of the truth of God, except that point which the world and the Devil at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Christ.  Where the battle rages, there, and only there, the loyalty of the soldier be proved; and to be steady on all the battlefield besides is mere flight and disgrace if he flinches at that point.” 

 

The battlefield is not the place to flinch.  The war we are in is spiritual. 

Know your weapons.  God’s weapons never run out of ammunition. 

We need to put Christ in the crosshairs of our daily living.  This is not enough at times. 

We pray.  We attend Bible studies.   We are actively involved in our church and do outside ministry.  We are gifted by God.  To preach and teach.  Or we worship or play piano or drums. 

 

 

We have gifts given to us by GOD, and the enemy of your soul wants to deceive you into thinking you cannot do things right.  The failure mentality comes in again to lie to you. 

Subtly at times. 

 

Case in point, my personal story:

Before the Lord healed my broken heart, I was driving down the highway with my future bride to be (someday, if I could get my life together) on the Banfield Highway in Portland, Oregon.  The year was 1993. 

I said, with my own words, “I feel like a failure.  I feel like a no-good-for-nothing.” 

 

She promptly assured me; “no, you are not.” 

I did not like her response, even though she meant it in love for the Lord.  I ignored it and got upset over it. 

I have proven, over and over in my life, that I have failed, I am a failure. 

Can’t deny facts. 

 

I was in prison.  I failed at marriage before.  I was an addict before I met Jesus in prison.  I could not keep a job.  I drove ratty cars.  I had no money.  My health was not too good.  I had Hepatitis C, asthma, and some brain damage from all the drugs in the 1970’s. 

Failure. 

So, I dropped her off and went home. 

 

I managed an adult Senior Citizen Apartment Complex in Portland at this time. 

That evening, after my meltdown on the freeway, one of the ladies who lived there called me in my office.   

“Joe, can you take me to church tonight?”  I answered, yes. 

Well, when it came time to go, it started snowing.  She called me back and informed me to cancel because she did not want to get on slick roads.  She said, “Joe, if you want to go, it is in Milwaukie,” (a suburb of Portland not too far from where I lived and worked). 

“You will enjoy it.” 

I hung up the phone and the Holy Spirit demanded I go.  “But Lord,’ I said, “I have a church I am going to, and I do not want to go to her church.” 

“GO,” He said. 

So, I lost that argument with the Lord.  I always did. 

I showed up.  I sat in the back of this small church building, just in case the people started handling snakes and chanting.

 I wanted to be near the exit door. 

A preacher came out.  A guest speaker.  He was a real prophet named Ed.  He was from South Africa.  He is a white man with an accent. 

He preached.  Did an altar call.  Many people got saved.  He prayed for individuals’ personal issues. He prayed for those who came up for healing and deliverance. 

This was all great, until he stopped and began to walk out into the crowd after praying for all who were at the altar. 

First, he called out to an entire family. 

“Stand up, please.” 

Dad, Mother, and the two children stood up.  He began to speak the oracles of God to them.  A Word from the Most High. 

All four family members fell to their knees, children included, and wept as the Lord used him to speak hope to their lives. 

I am in the back, sweating spiritual bullets, because I was trying to convince myself by mumbling to myself, “I am okay, God.  You are okay, God, so all is well.” 

 

No, it was not well with my soul, and I was lying to myself again, like almost every day of my pathetic Christian life back then. 

 

As I tried to ignore this man of God, he finally came towards me. 

After prophesying over several men, women, and children, he passed by me where i was sitting in the back.  No snakes here.  Just me and my slithering thoughts and belly to the ground mentality. 

I could feel the tangible power of God coming from this Man of God who was about four feet from me at this time. 

It was electric, powerful, and anointed.  I had been in meetings like this at our home church, but not quite like this night. 

 

He passed me by. 

No word from God for Joe. 

I wiped my forehead with my hand and said to myself, “Whew, escaped a bullet.” 

 

Suddenly, as he was headed back to the pulpit, with his back to me, he stopped abruptly.  Turned around and stared at me. 

 

“You, Sir,” (pointing at me with a finger that seemed to be four foot long) “have been in trouble.  You have been in trouble, and it did not take God by surprise what you went through.  It was not a coincidence what happened to you.  You did it to yourself.  You did it.  Without the devil’s help, you did it because you were stubborn and rebellious.  But you made it through, okay?” 

 

(At this point I knew it was God speaking through a man to me personally.  It was like God was replaying a video of my past to this anointed man of God).

 

He continued, “You need to bury your past, bury it once and for all, for you are not the same man now like you used to be, okay?  Bury it, bury your past.”  

(Then he stopped for a moment and took off his glasses, put his face into both hands and began to weep.) 

He said with tears, “I see you needed a father’s love, boy did you need a father’s love, and God wants you to know tonight, He is your Daddy, and He loves you unconditionally.  He is with you night and day, okay?” 

He continued.  “You have always picked the wrong women in your past, YUK,” (he said loudly) “But God has given you the woman of God now, and she will help you.” 

(Then the clincher happened).

 

“YOU are NOT a FAILURE, YOU are NOT A “NO GOOD-FOR-NOTHING” because you have it all inside of you, okay?  Be assured of His Love for you.” 

 

That was it.  I was fried. 

Weeping, but not gnashing my teeth.  (Needed some dental work for sure).

 

The very words I said out loud to my future bride that very day on the Banfield freeway.

“I feel like a failure and a no-good-for-nothing.” 

 

Wow, God was not using my own words against me. 

He was letting those words I had said that day to be repeated so I would realize just HOW close HE is to us, and HOW HE hears every word we say, or think. 

 

I left with a cassette copy from the sound man of this prophesy and went home. Listened to it over and over as I wept tears. 

Eventually, I did bury my past, but the main thing is this: 

I was at a crossroads in my life that evening in that “snake- less” church.  I was the reptile in my heart.  Full of poison and venom and hissing. God sent me on a new path seeking answers from this crossroads event at that church.  Timing.  God’s timing.  God became my Daddy that day.  Boy, did I need a father’s love. 

I did not want my Daddy to be murdered when I was eighteen years old.  It happened, and I can’t bring him back.  But now, I have the best Dad ever. 

 

God had me in HIS crosshairs that night. 

 He scoped me in. 

Pulled the trigger with Words from a prophet. 

The bullets hit my heart.  I did not bleed to death. 

I lived to death. 

Till death do us part. 

My dead things in my heart died that night. 

 

One word from God can change a man or woman’s life.  Even children. 

Everyone. 

 Including YOU. 

 Perhaps today is your day to bury your past. 

 It is under the Blood of Jesus, if you will let it be. 

It belongs in a grave with those old, nasty snakes. 

Right? 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins