Suddenly, there was a sound from heaven like the roaring of a mighty windstorm, and it filled the house where they were sitting. Then, what looked like flames or tongues of fire appeared and settled on each of them. And everyone present was filled with the Holy Spirit and began speaking in other languages, as the Holy Spirit gave them this ability.
ACTS 2:2–4
Refreshed by a wonderful night’s sleep, I awakened early, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat at the kitchen table, savoring the quiet of the morning. Gazing through the window, I could see that it was another beautiful Texas dawn. The sky was streaked with a pink blush and the grass glistened with dew. I watched with amusement as three little bluebirds raced through the yard, playing a game of chase with one another. Guy and I have affectionately named these birds Larry, Curly, and Moe, after the Three Stooges, because of their funny antics. We have watched them leave the nest and learn the necessities of life together—flying, feeding, and most recently, how to drink and take a birdbath.
This morning Larry, Curly, and Moe flew over to the tall, elegant fountain in the back of the yard. Water gently gurgled from the top of the urn that the graceful statue has hoisted on her shoulder. All three birds perched on the edge of the urn and took turns hopping into the water, merrily splashing their feathers. I grabbed my binoculars and hurried out onto the back porch to get a better look. Now I could hear their sweet little chirps as they played in the water. A shimmer of pink entered my vision in the binoculars, and I lowered them from my face to see what had caught my attention. I could only smile and shake my head because, of course, there was Margaret standing by the fountain. She was truly a feast for the eyes this morning. Her gown was a perfect, cotton candy pink, capturing the pink blush of the sky, and it glittered and sparkled, creating the illusion of tiny little prisms that reflected the morning light. I wished she could bring me a bolt of that fine fabric from heaven!
Again using the binoculars, I watched as Margaret raised her arms shoulder height and cupped her hands. Without any hesitation whatsoever, Larry, Curly, and Moe all hopped off the fountain right into her hands and sat there, twittering gaily at her. I could hear Margaret’s merry laugh as she held the darling little bluebirds. They were so content. It was as if they could sense their Creator in her presence. Then, with a gentle flick of her hands, she released them into the air, and they hopped back onto the fountain and resumed their splashy bathing ritual.
“Good morning, Jenn!” called Margaret cheerily as she began to walk toward me. I waved to her and put down the binoculars. Then, remembering her request before she left last night, I stepped over to the garden table and raised the umbrella.
“Ah, what a glorious day the Lord has made.” Margaret sighed as she settled into a chair. Her small, bare feet and the bottom of her gown were damp with dew. She looked at me and gave a smile that showed all of her perfect white teeth. “I will join you in a cup of coffee, Jenn, while we still have the cool breeze of the morning upon us.”
I grinned at the not-so-subtle hint and left the lovely vision in pink sitting under the umbrella while I went to fetch our coffee. As I opened the door to the house, Cody burst through, almost knocking me off my feet in his haste to get outside and say hello.
When I stepped back outside carrying two steaming mugs, Cody was happily licking Margaret’s hands and toes, his tail wagging back and forth at lightning speed. “Sorry for the doggy kisses, Margaret!” I called. “That is just Cody’s way of saying hello.”
“Oh, it is a lovely way to say hello.” Margaret giggled. “It tickles.”
I laughed with her and said, “Cody has a unique talent for communicating special things to people. He is kind of like Scooby-Doo.”
“Scooby-Doo?” Margaret asked. Then she held up a finger and said quickly, “Wait a minute!” then closed her eyes and sat very still for a few seconds. Then she laughed out loud and clapped her hands. “Ruh-ro! What a very funny dog Scooby-Doo is. So, Jenn, how is Cody like Scooby-Doo?”
“Well,” I replied with a twinkle in my eye, “Cody can tell you that he loves you.”
“Oh, how fun!” Margaret laughed and clapped her hands again. “Show me!”
I pulled a treat from my pocket and gave it to Margaret. I instructed, “Show Cody the treat and say to him, slowly and distinctly, ‘I . . . love . . . you.’ ” Cody sat expectantly in front of Margaret, and when she did as I had instructed, Cody cocked his head and said roughly in three distinct syllables, “Rhy Rhuv Rhroo!”
“Ooooooh! Good boy!” Margaret squealed in delight and gave Cody his treat. “That is wonderful! It must be very difficult for a dog to learn to say human words, and he did it very well indeed.”
Margaret and I settled happily back into our chairs and watched as Cody raced off in search of squirrels to chase. We sipped our coffee and sat in quiet fellowship for several minutes, relishing the soft, cool breeze we knew wouldn’t last much longer.
Margaret spoke first, breaking our quiet reverie. “You know, Jenn, as I listened to the birds’ sweet chirps as they sat in my hands, and then as I heard Cody tell me “I love you,” I am reminded of how God speaks to, and through, all of his creation, in many different languages. Each language is uniquely special to the one with whom he is communicating. Earlier, you mentioned an experience you had with a language you did not understand. I think this would be a good time to talk about it, don’t you?”
“I guess so,” I agreed with a sigh. Timidly, I looked down at my feet, and I could feel my stomach churn in anticipation of talking about something largely misunderstood by many people.
Margaret set her coffee cup down on the table, then reached over and took the cup out of my hands and placed it on the table next to hers. I got the feeling she wanted my full attention. She did. With her hands she gently tipped my chin up so that I was looking into her beautiful, wise face. And in Margaret’s blue eyes I found the courage I needed.
I spoke softly. “All those years ago, by the bedside in Michigan, at the moment I asked Jesus to come into my life, the first thing that happened to me was that I was filled with an overwhelming joy and began to speak in a language I did not recognize. My aunt and uncle explained that this was the gift of tongues, of speaking in the Spirit. It is an experience that’s hard to describe, but every time I am moved to speak in the Spirit, it fills me to overflowing and pours out of me. Even though it is mysterious, I have always felt this was an important gift for me and I have guarded it carefully, keeping it very private.”
Still holding me fast in her gaze, Margaret asked, “Why do you think this gift is important, child?”
“It was my first gift from God, and it felt so personal and special. Even though I did not know what I was saying, I felt that I was speaking in a language only God could understand. I know there are those who are gifted with the interpretation of tongues, but that was not given to me. But that doesn’t seem to matter, because when I use this gift—when I am speaking this unknown language—I am filled with a peace that goes beyond my understanding.”
“Dear one, that is because this gift is an actual manifestation of the Holy Spirit that dwells within you. The Spirit is real and active, speaking to you and for you. When you speak in the Spirit, you are communicating with the very heart of God. Listen to this scripture from Corinthians: ‘For one who speaks in a tongue does not speak to men but to God; for no one understands him, but he utters mysteries in the Spirit.’ ”
Margaret’s words brought tears to my eyes.
“I have always deeply treasured this gift, Margaret,” I said. “Even though I have come across people throughout my life who scoff at it. It has been hurtful to me to participate in conversations when this subject comes up for discussion. I can feel my heart and spirit quicken as I think maybe, just maybe, I will be able to share my experience with it. But before I ever get the chance, someone will laugh at or criticize the gift of tongues, saying things like, ‘It’s all fake,’ or ‘I would never want that gift—it is too weird.’ I find myself feeling humiliated and sad that I cannot speak without being ridiculed, so I say nothing at all. I am ashamed that I have not been a very good witness for my Lord.”
“I am so sorry,” Margaret said softly, her eyes reflecting the disappointment I felt. “Unfortunately, people criticize what they do not understand. And what they do not understand is the gift of tongues is a Divine form of communication that has been active for thousands of years. Jesus’ disciples received this gift during Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came to mankind just as he had promised. The ability to speak in the language of God enabled them and others to teach the good news about Jesus to people of foreign tongues all around the earth. And it has enabled you, Jenn, to speak to God with your heart when words fail you. Am I right?”
“That is true,” I agreed. “There are times when I am deep in prayer for someone, and am at a loss for words. I may be praying for someone who is dying, and I wonder, what should I pray for? Should I ask God for healing? Should I pray for God to take them home and stop the suffering? In times like these, I feel moved to pray in the Spirit. And every time, as these mysterious words are flowing from deep within me and pouring out through my lips, I experience an ancient presence, a wisdom beyond my own understanding and pure, unconditional love.”
Margaret smiled knowingly. “There is a scripture from Romans that speaks to this very point, Jennifer:
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God who searches the heart, knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”
“That’s lovely,” I said wistfully. “It is comforting to know that the Spirit knows my heart and knows even better than I how to talk to my Heavenly Father. There have been many times in my life when I have gone to the Lord in prayer, when my heart was so heavy all I could do was sigh.”
I heard a little sniffle and looked over at Margaret, who was wiping away a stray tear that had begun making its way down her cheek. I knew she understood completely the various heartaches that had prompted those sighs.
After a few moments, Margaret spoke quietly. “In Romans, a word is used that points to an important characteristic of the Spirit living within you. That word is intercede. You recently experienced an intercession of the Spirit when your father was going through a traumatic event. I am sure you remember this. It was a combination of two of your spiritual gifts—a dream and an alert to prayer by the Spirit.”
“I certainly do remember, Margaret. It was another one of those extraordinary heavenly intersections. My father needed hip replacement surgery, and I traveled back to Ohio to be there for him and for my mother. The surgery went well, and Daddy was to stay in the hospital for about three days. While I was there, my sister asked me if I could stay at her house for a couple of days with their three children while she and her husband made a quick trip out of town to attend a charity event. Always happy to spend time with my nieces and nephew, I agreed, as long as my mother did not need me at home. Mother was spending most of her time at the hospital with Daddy, coming home only at night to eat and sleep, so she encouraged me to go spend time with the children.
“The first night at my sister’s house, I settled into the comfy guest-room bed and fell fast asleep. It had been a long few days. While asleep, I had a dream.”
I am at my parents’ home and the phone begins to ring. As I start to pick it up I see that the phone number on the screen is from the hospital where Daddy is staying. I try to answer, but hear nothing. Thinking Mother has answered the call upstairs, I go up to ask if everything is okay. As I enter her room, she is scurrying around as if getting ready to go somewhere in a hurry. She tells me Daddy needs her right away, so she is going to go to him at the hospital. Next, I see Daddy in his hospital room, wildly thrashing around in his bed. Then Mother walks into his room and crawls up onto the bed with him. At that moment he becomes calm, and my dream ends.
“I awakened with a start and reasoned that I was just experiencing a delayed reaction to the normal anxiety anyone would feel after having a loved one go through surgery. But the dream disturbed me. I tried to go back to sleep but had no success, which was unusual for me. I looked at the clock, and it was three a.m. I had the feeling that something was not right and could not shake it. Finally, I began to pray, and after a while I just let the Holy Spirit pray through me in tongues, since I didn’t really understand what was going on.
“At three thirty a.m., I finally felt released from whatever was keeping me up and in prayer. I promptly fell back to sleep and slept soundly until about eight a.m. I decided to call my mother at the house to check in with her before she left to go back to the hospital. She did not answer the house phone, so I tried her cell phone. She picked it up right away and spoke very softly, almost in a whisper. I asked where she was and she told me she was already at the hospital. Then she went on to say that she had received a call from my father in the middle of the night. He was having a bad reaction to the narcotics he had been given for pain and was very agitated. He pleaded with her to come and be with him, so she got dressed and drove to the hospital and was there with him by three thirty a.m. He was finally calm and sleeping soundly after a new medication had been administered.
“I remember thinking, There you go again, God! You would think I would be used to this by now, but episodes like this still fill me with awe. God permitted me to have another Divine dream and sent his Spirit to help me pray in the midst of this crisis my parents were experiencing.”
Margaret’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Awe is exactly what you should be feeling, Jenn, when the Holy Spirit intercedes according to the will of God. In this particular experience, God let you know in no uncertain terms that while this event was being played out, he was all over it. He was there in the room with your daddy, he was there at the house with your mother, and he was at your sister’s house with you. The Almighty’s love and care for his children is powerful and ever present. God is good!”
“All the time!” I responded with a happy heart. I picked up my coffee cup and sat back in my chair, savoring the taste and aroma of the fresh, strong brew. It was so freeing to be able to talk about this gift of the Spirit with someone so willing to listen.
Just then, in a breathtaking display of brilliant yellow and black, a large swallowtail butterfly left the flower he was feeding from nearby and perched delicately on the rim of Margaret’s coffee cup. His wings gently moved up and down as he watched us. Margaret laughed softly and raised her face to the sky. I thought I saw her mouth a silent Thank you! so I peered around the umbrella and looked up to see whom she might be talking to. Of course, there was no one there.
“Margaret?” I began.
Margaret turned her eyes on me and said, “This, sweet girl, is a little gift for you from the Holy Spirit. Whenever you see this butterfly in your garden, he wants you to remember the transforming power of the Almighty and how his gifts can be used to transform the lives of his children.
“Just as the butterfly was transformed from a caterpillar into a beautiful creature, so you were transformed when you sought and accepted Jesus into your heart. And the gifts he gave you have empowered you to transform the lives of others. Your dreaming and the type of prayer in the Spirit you just described is a powerful form of intercession. Remember the dreams about your grandmother’s fall and the baby with the heart condition? You have long wondered what you were supposed to do with that information. God has given you your answer, dear one. You are to intercede with prayer when prompted by your dreams and the Spirit.”
I sat very still and realized that Margaret was absolutely right. I wished I could have realized that truth back when I had first experienced those dreams, so that I could have interceded in prayer for those I cared deeply about. I sighed with the acknowledgment that I really do sometimes take a long time to get it!
Margaret gave me a gentle smile, and I knew she understood. “Learning to use God’s gifts is a process, Jenn. You have been faithful in your desire to learn from him, and he has been faithful to you in return. Jesus promised to provide the Holy Spirit, the comforter, advocate, and counselor, to his people once he had ascended into heaven. With this tremendous gift, he places a power in you that enables you to do more than you could ever imagine. Jesus said to his beloved disciples, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.’
“The gifts of the Spirit, deeply rooted in love, are intimately designed for each believer in order that they may be used to bring about healing and restoration, encouragement in faith, and advancement of the Kingdom of God. So, dear child, let these words be written on your heart: To whom much is given, much is expected.”
The butterfly’s wings continued their slow, rhythmic motion as I listened to Margaret’s powerful words. What a beautiful creature it had become. Truly, transformation begets beauty, in a butterfly, and in the hearts of believers.
Margaret smiled as she watched me process her statement. Finally, with a little “ahem!” she gently guided my attention back to our conversation and continued. “I have provided you with only a glimpse of the beauty of one transformed by the Spirit of God. I pray that one day you will fully grasp the reality of how stunningly beautiful you are to the One who set his Spirit within you. I encourage you to cherish this truth. Now, listen, butterfly girl, as God speaks these words into the depths of your heart:
“When I promised that I would be with you to the end of the age, I meant it. To find me, look no further than inside yourself. Call upon me, my beloved, for in me, anything is possible!”
After letting me sit with these precious words for a few moments, Margaret asked, “Jenn, are you beginning to see how active the realm of heaven has been in your life? In your dreams, surrounding you, walking with you, guiding you, speaking to and for you . . . ?”
“Yes, I am, Margaret. You have shown me there have been so many of those heavenly intersections in my life. I feel like I have been walking around with blinders on, seeing part, but not all of the picture.”
“To see clearly, child, you have to want to see clearly,” said Margaret thoughtfully, “and I know that this has been a desire of your heart for a long time. There is something I want you to see now. Think back a minute. In the dream where you met Jesus, he held a candle for you and told you, ‘I will always be here for you, Jennifer.’ Then, in your dream about the beautiful child who was Jesus, as he waded into the lake he told you, ‘I am going to my father now, but I will always be near if you need me.’ In the same dream, when he was floating across from you in the flooding river, he said to you, ‘Don’t be afraid . . . You see? I am always here.’ And in your dream about a pilgrimage, Jesus was your guide, walking right alongside you.”
I gasped as a message emerged. It had been hiding away in my dreams until this very moment. This beautiful heavenly emissary sitting by my side had pulled these statements and events from my dreams throughout various stages of my life and helped me see them together as one profound truth. I have nothing to fear, for heaven is with me always. And the Trinity—the Father, Son, and Spirit—will remind me of this as many times as I need to hear it! My knees felt weak as I let that sink in. Is it really possible to personally connect with and hear from my Creator? Yes! It most certainly is!
Margaret gathered me in her arms and gave me a warm, delicious hug. “Congratulations, my girl. You have learned the lesson our Father has been teaching you all along. Heaven truly is closer than you think. The proof lives inside you in the many gifts of the Spirit he has provided.”
Speechless, I clasped my hands to my heart and sat very still. Sensations of joy, tenderness, and awe swirled through me as I thought back over all that Margaret and I had talked about these past few days. The life experiences, the Divine dreams, God’s quiet voice, the gifts of his Spirit, all interwoven by a common thread—his patient and consistent message of unconditional love for me and for all his children. How could I have been so afraid to share my Divine encounters—God’s active presence in my life—with others? This truth is so precious that the whole world needs to know about it.
I could feel tears of gratitude forming as I realized I could not have taken this remarkable journey of discovery without God’s help. What a wonderful gift Margaret had been to me.
My angel smiled as she noticed the big tears welling in my eyes.
“We all have much to be thankful for, Jennifer. We have a Father who loves us dearly. And I am so thankful he has given me the privilege of being your guardian angel and your guide. I have so enjoyed watching you grow, recognizing your gifts, and learning how to use them to bring glory to God. You will continue to learn, and I am looking forward to many more adventures together in the years to come.”
The thought of more adventures with Margaret made me smile despite the tears.
Then Margaret’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“I think this calls for a celebration. Oh yes! That is exactly what we need.”
She clapped her hands together, bounded out of her chair, and practically skipped to the edge of the patio, where she stopped, hands on hips, and stared out over the yard.
I watched her, mystified. I could tell she was in big-time planning mode.
Margaret finally turned and faced me, her face glowing with excitement. “Remember the wonderful garden party you had for your birthday celebration?”
“Of course I do”—I laughed—“it was the party I had always dreamed of!”
“Well then, dear child, you are in for a double treat, because tonight we are going to have another party right here in your own backyard gardens.” Margaret gleefully clapped her hands. “I am going to have to leave you for now because there is much to do to get ready. Look for me here after the sun goes down. Oh, Jenn. We are going to have such a special evening!”
I shook my head and laughed. It tickled me to see her so obviously excited. I managed to call out “Okay, I will see you tonight . . .” just before she shimmered and disappeared into thin air.
I stood up from my chair and looked out at the yard. A garden party hosted by an angel. That sounded, well . . . heavenly! Margaret’s enthusiasm was contagious, because I began to feel the tickle-of-anticipation butterflies fluttering around in my tummy. I gathered up our empty coffee cups from the table and headed inside. Halfway to the house I stopped dead in my tracks and sucked in my breath.
“Oh my goodness gracious!” I exclaimed aloud. “What in the world am I going to wear?”