This was sent to me as his testimony please read this and be grateful for the
mercies of YAHUSHUA. Especially this Thanksgiving day. We have MUCH to be
thankful for. If you can read this and not get a feeling of a grateful spirit
and offer up a prayer of Thanksgiving to YAHUVEH and YAHUSHUA then I question
whether your really saved. Jon’s birthday is Dec. 25 and his mother and father
died last year.
Happy Thanksgiving to all our Partners and friends.
With much love my husband and I send our blessings to you in the
name of YAHUSHUA
Apostle Elisabeth (Elisheva) Elijah
* * * * * * *
MODERN DAY PRODIGAL SON RETURNS
11.28.02
* * * * * * *
By Lil Jon
I have gone to Christian school all my life [K-12]. When I was 7 years old we
had a chapel service at school. A man, the guest speaker, told of the death,
burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He illustrated it with special chalk
drawings, which glowed under a black light. After chapel everyone returned to
their classrooms. My teacher talked to us about the message, and then she
invited anybody that wanted to, to give their heart and life to Jesus Christ. I
raised my hand, she led me to an area at the back of the room, explained the
plan of salvation to me; I got on my knees, bowed my head, and asked Jesus to
come into my heart.
I told my mom as soon as I got home. I was very excited. Sharing my faith with
everyone I came into contact with. I studied the bible a lot, both in school,
[bible class] and at church, [Sunday school].Over time, I lost my ferver. When I
was about 91/2 years old we moved. I made friends with kids that weren’t
Christians. I started living a double life. Going to church, acting and speaking
one way around Christians. Coming home, acting and speaking another way, in
front of my friends.
I started backsliding in small ways at first. Cursing, chewing tobacco, smoking
cigarettes. That’s the way I was for the next few years. At 14 years of age, I
began smoking cigarettes habitually. That was it for the next couple of years.
At 16 years of age, I smoked my first joint. It was very low quality marijuana,
so I didn’t get a habit. A few months later, I got drunk for the first time in
my life. I didn’t get a habit, but I would binge drink anytime. A few months
after that, my friend bought so high quality marijuana and I got stoned for the
first time in my life. Again, I didn’t get a habit, but I did get stoned a lot
after that.
When I was about 171/2 years old we moved again. This time it was a big move. We
moved from south Florida, to north central Florida, during my senior year of
high school. I didn’t know anybody, and I was a very shy, so booze and pot
became my friends. It’s amazing, even though I was extremely shy; I had made the
necessary connections to supply myself with marijuana. Almost immediately after
I arrived.
Even though I tried not to think about God, or talk to anybody about him.
Christian principles were deeply ingrained in me. I would not lie, cheat, or
steal. I also treated women with respect, not only cause of my Christian
upbringing, but also because my father had raised me that way. So for the next
few years I got drunk and stoned. When I would build up a tolerance to the
marijuana, instead of moving on to harder drugs, I would stop smoking for a few
months; and let the marijuana get out of my system. Then I could get high again.
Right after I turned 22, I was invited to go to Daytona Beach Florida. I only
live 60 miles from there, and my employer was about to send me out of state, to
a company school for special certification. I was thinking "why not; one last
blow out before I settle down"
On the way old of town, I almost got into a car accident. That; along with some
other situations that came about earlier. Lets me know that God was trying to
keep me away from Daytona. On the way to Daytona, I had a couple beers, and
smoked about half a joint with friends. My judgment wasn’t impaired though. When
we got to the beach, my friends and I were playing catch with a football. Five
of my friends went out into the water, while I and another guy stayed on the
beach. We were throwing the ball back and forth between the guys in the water,
and us two guys on shore.
Skipper, [the other young man], and I decided to run into the water. When the
water was almost crotch deep I saw a small wave coming toward me. I decided to
do a shallow dive into the wave, just deep enough to get my hair. "Thud", it
felt like I hit a brick wall, and I could taste blood on my bottom lip. I don’t
know how I knew, but I seemed to instinctively know what had happened; because I
didn’t try to stand. I was paralyzed from the chest down. I reached for the
bottom to push myself up, out of the water. My fingers could just touch the
bottom. I pushed down, and my fingers sunk into the sand. I didn’t panic, a
peace came over me, and I just floated there, holding my breath. Suddenly, a
couple of the guys I was with, grabbed me under the arms, lifted me up, and
dragged me up to the beach.
As I lay there, I fell asleep. I was woke up by the jostling of the paramedics,
as I was being put on the back board, and loaded into the ambulance. I have
since figured out that I lost consciousness, not fell asleep. I must’ve lost
consciousness again, because I don’t remember arriving at the hospital. I
remember talking to my dad. While I was talking to my dad, my eyes rolled back
in my head, and I slipped into a coma. What had happened is; when I broke my
neck, I damaged the artery that supplies blood to the brain stem; which is why I
lost consciousness. It took approximately 7 hours for the pressure to build up,
and for me to have the stroke. I was in a coma for about 2 months.
I was classified as semi-comatose; because I would wake up when they would take
me downstairs for a cat scan. While I was still partially comatose, I was woken
up being moved from my bed to a gurney. They took me to an operating room, and
performed a tracheotomy on me. They didn’t know I had normal feeling from the
chest up, and I couldn’t speak. So when they cut my neck open to into my throat
they didn’t use any anesthetic. I felt everything; I have a very high tolerance
of pain, but thank God I slipped back into unconsciousness. When I finally came
out of the coma, I had lots of movement still, but I couldn’t feel it, so I
eventually lost. I was also quite groggy, so I slept a lot. If I had not had the
stroke, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have walked again, the same
year I got hurt; maybe the same month.
I spent 2 more months in that hospital, in Daytona Beach, 4 months in total. I
then was transferred to a small acute care rehabilitation center in Auburndale
Florida. Not much significant happened there; except, I became bitter with God.
People would come to visit, and say something like "praise God you’re still
alive ". I didn’t want to hear that, and would say, "I don’t believe in God
anymore ". That was a boldfaced lie. I could no more not believe, than not
believe in the wind. I was just angry, with the world.
I eventually came to grips with everything that was happening to me. I spent 2
more months at this hospital. The only significant thing that happened at this
hospital is they put a G-tube in my stomach, so they could feed me, without
going through my mouth. I was aspirating food into my lungs. I was to be
transferred to a rehab in Gainesville Florida. That’s about 45 minutes north of
where I live in Ocala Florida. 24 Hours before I was to be transferred, governor
Chiles tried canceling all Medicare and Medicaid benefits. I didn’t have
insurance when I got hurt, because I had just turned 22, which meant I was too
old to be covered by my parents insurance, but I was only weeks away from
receiving full insurance coverage at my job.
I was then transferred to a rehab in Tampa. They basically started getting me on
a routine of giving me a shower every other day, and performing bowel care,
every other day. They also worked with me on learning to hold my head up, and on
being able to sit in a wheelchair without the trunk supports in position. When I
had the stroke, I lost the use of every part of my body. On December 24, 1991;
my parents brought me home. The people at the hospital told my dad he couldn’t
bring me home, and that they had already made arrangements for me to go to a
nursing home. My dad said 2 words to them, "watch me!" He then came to my room,
put me in the wheelchair, took me to the car, loaded me in, and took me home.
After I came home not to much happened for about 6 months, then a few of my old
friends came by occasionally. I asked my mom, "I wonder why Dean hasn’t come
by?" Dean was my best friend. My mom said to me, "Your dad will have to tell you
about Dean, when he gets home." I could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t
know what. When my dad got home, I asked him, "what about Dean?"
He gave me puzzled look; he didn’t understand what I was asking. My mom came in
explained it to him. He said to me, "Dean is dead; he was killed on his
motorcycle. We didn’t tell you when you were in the hospital, because we didn’t
want you to get upset; while you were in the hospital." About a year before my
accident, Dean had bought a motorcycle. He had been out drinking, smoking
marijuana, and playing pool. He was going home around 2 o’clock in the morning.
He fell asleep on his motorcycle, ran off the road, and hit a tree. He was
killed instantly. They didn’t find him until the next day. That night I promised
God, I would never again be afraid to tell anybody about Him.
Around Christmas, Dean and I were riding around in my car smoking marijuana.
Dean and I were talking, and he makes a statement, "I believe if God didn’t want
us to smoke marijuana, he wouldn’t have put it on earth."
Almost like a reflex, I started telling him about, the tree of the knowledge of
good and evil that God placed in the middle of the Garden of Eden. Dean was not
saved, and I knew it. Even though I smoked and drank, I knew, without a doubt,
that what I was doing was wrong. The Holy Spirit was convicting me, it didn’t
feel good, and so I made myself stop talking.
Now Dean was dead, and in hell for eternity. I think I was the only Christian he
knew, and I had refused to witness to him.
One night after my parents were finished eating, my dad mashed up a few green
beans, and patiently started feeding me by mouth. Each night he would give me a
little more. Eventually, I was able to take in enough nutrition by mouth; I then
didn’t have to use the G-tube anymore, except on occasion, and to take
medication.
After a while I got tired of being inside, my dad started me in the morning,
before he would go to work, and put me in the wheelchair. My mom would feed me,
and then take me out to the back porch. I have always enjoyed the warm and hot
weather. I talked my parents into letting me sit out in the yard, in the sun. I
would sit outside, look at the trees, grass, squirrels, and birds; feel the wind
on my face; and I would think, "What a beautiful and wonderful world God has
given us; and I took it all for granted.
How can anybody believe that this is the result of some random cosmic accident?
What I wouldn’t give for another chance." I still had a problem drinking
liquids. I couldn’t suck a straw, or drink from a cup. I had to have all liquids
spoon fed to me, like a child taking medicine. It took a long time to give me a
cup of water or ensure. Ensure is the liquid they put in the G-tube, instead of
food, it tastes about like slim fast. My parents were very patient with me. They
found a cup where the straw came from the bottom of the cup. They would put a
pin on my nose, put the plug in my trake, and I would suck with my lungs. I
aspirated some for while, but they would suction it out immediately. Eventually
I got to where I didn’t need the pin on my nose. I still sucked with my lungs,
but not as much. After a year or two, I started sucking using just my mouth
muscles. One day out of curiosity, I tried drinking without the trake being
plugged up. I was able to do it. So now I can easily drink from a straw.
My dad’s boss was also a long time family friend. We use to go to church with
him and his family in south Florida; now they lived in North Carolina. They knew
about the situation, so they offered to pay for round trip tickets, if my
parents would fly up for the weekend. My mom had never flown before, because she
had a fear of flying, but she wanted a break. My parents went, and when they
came back, they were refreshed; my mom had a small hacking cough.
We didn’t think anything of it, and my mom ignored it for almost 2 months. It
got progressively worse, so my mom went to the doctors, and she put my mom in
the hospital that night, she said my mom had viral pneumonia. My mom was in the
hospital almost a week; they were able to clear up the pneumonia, but they said
it had attacked her heart muscle; now she had congestive heart failure. For
years she took supplements, and seemed ok.
One day she asked me if I wanted to move, I said no, because I didn’t want my
dad to have to move us by himself. About a week later, my mom tells me they’re
going to have a house built, my parents went to see an architect, together they
designed a completely wheelchair accessible house. It seemed to take forever to
get started, but afterwards, it went pretty fast.
We were in the house a few years, when a nurse asked us why I didn’t have an
electric wheelchair, we told her it was because our old house was too small. She
gets on the phone to a wheelchair supplier, and a few days later, a man comes
out to the house, and measures me so they can build a wheelchair for me.
Everything was fine for the next year or so. My mom was getting good reports
from the doctor. She had 1 week that was exceptionally good; she went shopping
with her sister and daughters, and had a good time going all over town with
them. I thought my prayers, for my moms healing, had been answered. One night I
was asleep, my dog was sleeping with me. I was startled awake by my dog barking.
Somebody had rang the doorbell, it was the paramedics.
My dad came in crying; he laid his head on my shoulder and says, "Pray Jon, I
think she’s dying." I’ve never seen my dad scared and vulnerable like that; it
was scary. All the immediate family came over, and about 11 o’clock the next day
we were told that she had died. 2 Weeks after the funeral my dad went to see the
doctor, for a checkup.
When he comes home he tells me she wants him to have special tests. He goes for
the tests, when he comes home, he tells me that they have found a mass on his
liver. I have to say my heart in my throat at that moment. My dad immediately
started on chemo therapy. For months he was doing well, and showing improvement.
Then after about 6 mouths, he was suppose to go for a colonoscopy, but he had a
blockage in his intestines. He went into the hospital for emergency surgery.
They removed a foot of his colon, and performed a colostomy. After my dad
recovered from the surgery, he started back on the chemo therapy. He was doing
pretty well; they were even talking about reversing the colostomy; again I
thought my prayers had been answered.
In September of 2001 my dad took a turn for the worse. He decided that he wanted
to go into a hospice home. He got some much needed rest, and he seemed to regain
his strength, until the last week of October. Somebody gave him too much pain
medicine, after that he had slurred speech, and short concentration.
About the first week of November he decided he wanted to come home. He had lost
so much weight. He was just a shell of the man I had known only a year earlier.
The cancer was eating him alive. He had been 6 foot tall, 225 pounds; now he
weighed 98 pounds. I cried all the time; I just wanted to be able to care for my
dad, like he had cared for me. My dad passed away Thanksgiving morning 2001; it
would have been my mom’s birthday. He said he wanted to make it to Thanksgiving.
I still lay awake some nights and cry. Point is I don’t blame God; Satan took my
parents; not God.
* * * * * * * My response to Jon. Please email him and encourage him.
Beloved Brother Jon,
Your testimony still has tears running down my cheeks! How much we have to be
grateful for and take for granted. How many of us even take eating and drinking
for granted forgetting what a miracle it is to eat and drink and swallow! How
many of us take for granted the moving of our arms and legs. OH YAHUVEH and
YAHUSHUA please forgive us who take your mercies for granted in YAHUSHUA’S name
I pray!
You are very special and your testimony will be used to reach millions of souls.
Your testimony shows us how much we take for granted the many mercies of YAHUVEH
and YAHUSHUA.
You have a gift for writing and touching a heart. you said you want to reach
souls and this is start how to do it. Your testimony reminds me of Joni Erikson
she went swimming and broke her neck also and is also a quadriplegic can’t move
her arms or legs. She paints the most beautiful pictures with a paintbrush
between her teeth! She probably is your age. She uses what happened to her to
bring souls into the Kingdom of Heaven.
You are very brave dear brother and in Heaven you will run again and walk again.
You will be totally healthy again if not on this earth then in Heaven. This body
we are in now is just a shell. Think of a turtle the shell is not the turtle.
The turtle body is unseen. Our Spiritual body is unseen and only this vulnerable
shell of a body is seen by others.
It is a privilege to call you brother Jon ! It is a privilege for you to be
brought here by the HOLY SPIRIT to share your testimony so others can learn from
your testimony.
Jon we look forward to meeting you in Heaven. My husband and I read your
testimony together and it has touched us greatly.
Without meeting you Jon we love you! You are our brother and if we can help you
please let us know.
There is a woman out there for you also. The woman waiting for you will love you
and recognize you as her soul mate. She may see your testimony or picture and I
prophecy it will be as if she recognizes you and knows not why. When your soul
was created the other half of it is this woman and you will know each other by
each others eyes for your souls will recognize each other, then when you meet
and hold hands the anointing will increase in each of you. I pray in YAHUSHUA’S
name that you find the love that my husband and I have with each other and both
of you will grow together in the LORD YAHUSHUA and the anointing will increase
daily. You are in our prayers as we ask to be in yours.
Much love and blessings in YAHUSHUA's name,
Apostle Elisabeth (Elisheva) Elijah