War Zone
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Every night from the earliest age I can recall I was in hell, a war zone, battling for my survival, running from the fiery flames of crashing, burning airplanes from all directions, the horror of no protection from the evil trying to consume me alive.
Lynne Jeffries
Lynne Jeffries is a wife, mother of 3 and grandmother of 7. Lynne grew up in the Inland Empire before moving to the Los Angeles area, she now lives in central California with her husband, daughter and 4 dogs. Lynne enjoys painting, drawing, scrabble, golf and the word of God.
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War Zone - Lynne Jeffries
Copyright © 2016 Lynne Jeffries.
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This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.
Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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ISBN: 978-1-5127-4225-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-5127-4226-8 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016907957
WestBow Press rev. date: 09/08/2016
A while back I went to my hometown, and I stood across from Blue Mountain. I met the current owner of the house I grew up in. I had not been there in more than 40 years, periodically I dreamt of living there as an adult with my husband and family. Words cannot express exactly how I felt pulling up in front of that house, then driving away. I was as giddy as a schoolgirl, overcome with such fervor I thought I might burst. There were no tears. I was ecstatic, It felt good to see the home and to be back!
The owner was kind, and allowed me on the property, I was home. Finally, I found some closure. I could let go. After all these years, I could say good-bye. It’s been said you can never go back home. This is probably true for the most part, however, it wasn’t for me. I needed to go back in order to stop living there. A part of my heart and soul had never left that house.
I will be sharing a series of many events in my life that took place during my early years to date. I will not go into any great detail as it is painfully morbid. In reflecting back to these events as I typed each paragraph I relived the pain and emotion I concealed for 26 years. Reliving each moment was difficult, however, it was the best form of therapy. My arduous journey through all of this was the hardest most difficult and challenging time of my life.
Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: Because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.
1 John 4:4 KJV.
Approximately 10 years ago I believe God spoke to me, asking me to write a book. As I thought about it I pondered, is this my flesh, or is God urging me? I sat down many times and pounded out several pages of interesting events from my childhood that to be honest really were not book-worthy. After several attempts to write I began to believe it wasn’t God. I decided to forget about it, at least I tried to forget.
I cannot count how many times this ‘book thing’ popped into my head over the years, out of nowhere. I would be having a conversation in my head or reading the paper over coffee, and bam! I’d hear it again. It didn’t matter what I was doing. I would dismiss these thoughts as quickly as they came, over and over and over again. After several years I again started to take it seriously. I even went as far as telling my family members God wants me to write a book.
Yes, I was humored, my loving husband laughed at me which was kind of a reality check. I mean, seriously, why would God ask me to write a book? I have a limited education, I am untraveled, and my life is relatively normal. Write a book? Nah, ridiculous, not me, I thought to myself. Must be a subconscious thing, I don’t know. However, it was beginning to bother me. I did not want to be disobedient if this urging really was from God. However, being so unsure, I did nothing.
I wasn’t exactly sure how God spoke, was I to hear an audible voice? Would he speak to me in a dream, or through a vision? I could not at that time discern his will from that of my own. I had no plans of writing anything. I couldn’t understand why I kept hearing this. I met with my pastor hoping and praying he could enlighten me. When we met I asked all the wrong questions. I allowed myself to become sidetracked, asking my pastor a multiplicity of unrelated questions. I unknowingly sabotaged myself, I was still confused and seeking answers. Once again, I asked God, are you speaking to me? Is this your voice, Father? God, do you still speak today? Why do you want me to write a book? I am not a Bible scholar, I am just an average person. I have no great achievements to share.
God, me? Write a book?
I totally discounted the idea that God would ever speak to me, a sinner, let alone ask something of me. I had invited Jesus Christ into my heart, however I knew little about the deity of Jesus Christ. I did know upon accepting Jesus Christ as my personal savior I went from ‘sinner to saint,’ yet still a sinner. When asked to define exactly what that meant, I couldn’t. It was my understanding that born-again Christians were perfect people, free of sin. I wasn’t, I wasn’t even a ‘good’ Christian, being immoderately adamant in my beliefs I was confident God only spoke to the Godly. I have absolutely no idea where I picked up such an absurd idealism. Consequently I chalked this book business up to random thoughts, a subconscious idea due to my understanding of who’ God spoke to instead of ‘how’ God spoke.
Yet, I would hear When are you going to write that book?
Each time I heard this I would ask him again, Write about what? I am a nobody.
I thought surely God wouldn’t want me to share events that took place in my life I wasn’t capable of articulating into words. Once again, in trying to be obedient I began to write, just to become so frustrated I tossed it in the trash can.
I must have tried 50 or more times over the years until I finally told myself to give up, I am not a writer, I have nothing of value to share nor the creativity to create a storyline. I didn’t know the attributes or character of God. I really did not have a relationship with God, although I thought I had, but I hadn’t put all my faith & trust in him. I was ignorant in the things of God to a certain degree, I lacked the ability to fully understand God, the Holy Scriptures and my role in the Body of Christ, I was still learning, I hadn’t learned how to live ‘spiritually minded’. I was fleshly and controlled by fear, in retrospect it is not surprising I had been so confused.
During this time I had just began to attend Bible study on Wednesday nights. I was taking a lot of notes, it was hard to contain and understand all of it. After ending a study on Acts, our pastor told the congregation the following Wednesday would be an open forum for whatever biblical questions we may have. I had quite a few questions. The following week came quickly. The parking lot was the fullest I’d ever seen it. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had questions concerning the voice of God, as well as the character of God.
I learned God speaks in many ways, however, not the way I had believed for decades. I watched just about every televangelist, teacher and preacher on TV. I believed they were good honest, knowledgeable men and women of God. The thought of spreading false doctrine never occurred to me - you might ask why, I lived in a world of my own – I was very naïve, and unaware of the