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JOURNEY TO A
DREAM BY: DEBI DOWLING CHAPTER ONE –
CHILDHOOD
I remember the
deliverance that fell upon the church at the time my family came into the
church. The church had just split from Jolly. My experience at the time I received the Holy
Ghost was miraculous. I received the Holy Ghost at eight years old. It was an
awesome experience. I remember how close I felt to Him; I was safe from
evil. I always wondered why didn't I
receive it like everyone else? You know you go to church, receive the Holy
Ghost, come home, everyone is excited and that's about it. Oh, not me. I had
no Christian upbringing. When I received the Holy Ghost. I was under it for 4
to 6 hours. Visions like a picture show. I was astonished as I came to. (I
know this sounds sci-fi.) I began telling my mom, "They were eating raw
fish!” I could smell the sand; feel the wet of it under my feet. I could feel
Paul's personality. It was like I knew these people intimately it was that
experience that held me to the truth. It was great to tell of all I had seen.
I also received
a lot of special attention that later became a burden. I was thought of as
having some special gift that gave me a direct connection with God. I
remember the burden getting so heavy that I told my mom it was a devil; that
I was not so special. But, the visions did not stop. The blessings I received
were so deep. I saw myself walking on this cloud, holding hands with Jesus.
My feet got cold, so He picked me up and held me, then explained why my feet
were cold. I was walking over the state of California, and they were
experiencing an unusual amount of snow. My parents’ read of such an
occurrence in the newspaper weeks later. Still, I did not
want the oppression of this kind of attention. There was also a vision or whatever one is more
comfortable calling it, where this angel who introduced himself as Gabriel
caught me up. We soared across this body of water; I saw a statue in the
middle of the water, holding up one arm as if it were a sign of victory. The
angel told me that when we passed this way again the image would not be
there. And, sure enough, when the angel and I traveled back, this time in a
speed that would allow observation, I saw that the image had been destroyed.
All of theses visions were given in my childhood. People who do not lean on the power of the
Holy Ghost have visions, just like in the Bible. I think of how the Old
Testament astrologers brought understanding to the kings. They were depended
on. Daniel received great understanding through the form of visions. So many
times we look to signs and wonders to prove to us that God is real. I know I
have been guilty of this. Often we overlook the miracles right in front of
us. I often thought that the scripture in the Bible that warns us of looking
for signs and wonders, if it has something to do with this. God spoke through a burning bush. He
proved Himself with the ordeal with the snakes, the parting of the Red Sea.
Throughout the Bible the stories are told of how God has revealed Himself. I
think of Jesus as He was performing miracles. He asked. Why do you believe?
Is it because of the miracles? Blessed are they that believe and cannot see.”
(I feel the witness to this as I think of my own salvation). Overall, the way
I see it, is we cannot prove God. We must let him prove Himself through our
testimony. I am trying to answer to that calling. Though the request is so
simple, the task is so great. I am seeing this as I empty myself out on this
web site. It makes me humble; and my compassion for those who are seeking the
will of God is enhanced. That in its self is proof to me of the existence of
God. This compassion is truly of Him. For I have lived my life in anger.
Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth, PEACE. My, my! What an awesome
Father, a miracle worker, a beautiful mystery. Outside of the intimate relation that I had with the Lord, were
the other issues of abuse that were ongoing. When the BIG EVENT came down on
my head around 10-11 years old, I began to change. I grew more and more angry
and frustrated; I felt trapped. The Lord continued to bless me through deep
blessings and visions, but I still dealt with the torture in my mind. My life at home
was very scary. My Mom was obsessed with the church. I can remember the
beatings, as she would pray over us, casting out demons in the name of Jesus.
I grew up thinking I was possessed. I never really learned to take
responsibility for my own actions. I had very little grasp of what being a
human being was all about. We were raised not to participate in worldly
activities or communicate with the world. I lived behind the church. I went
to the church school. I remember a
time (I was in the first grade and my brother was in the second grade) when
my mother could not find her keys to take us to school. She knew one of us
kids had hidden them (my brother or myself). My family still talks about
this; they all believe I am either devil possessed or blessed of God to
endure this incident in the manner that I did. My mother told me she was
going to take me in the bathroom and strip me of my clothes; she would begin
at my ankles and by the time she got around my neck I would tell her the
truth. She did as she had promised. I cried, but she would not stop beating
me. I lay across the toilet and gave her my body to do whatever she wished. I
dissociated myself from the blows of the belt, which made her angrier. My brother was so scared for me. That it just the way things
were and I had no choice. When the ministry stands up and says, “Honor your
father and your mother,” for those that are not in abusive families, this is
easily learned. As a child, I believed this was the way it was; I believed
all this was for my perfection; I believed it was God's will to take this
discipline; my soul was the issue. Well I was half right, I have learned that
there is a discipline of Love and my soul is the issue. We listened to church
teachings at home. I remember having one of my girlfriends over between
services. We were listening to a country and western station on the radio. We
had the volume down so low; we had to put our ear up against the radio to
hear the music. My mother came in the door. She was angry. She took me in her
room and began whipping me with a belt. I remember crying, feeling pity for
myself. She continued beating me as she tried casting out evil spirits. I was
so weak; when I went to stand up, I fell to the floor. She began beating me
again. I can't believe I survived all the beatings. Throughout my life at
home, I was marked as a rebellious child.
I was continually running away. Then, there was my father. He molested
me over and over. I’m not sure how important the details are. There were some
incidents I will not mention. He
really crossed the line. No one ever believed me. I will start
when my little sister was born. I was 10 years old. I took care of her,
changed her diapers and all the mommy stuff. My mother had gone to a ladies’
prayer meeting, and my dad was home with us. My sister's baby bed was in the
room my parents slept in, and I was actually in the baby bed with my sister,
caring for her. My dad was in his bed and I heard and saw things that I
should not have been subjected to. I told mom when she got home and she said
he was doing that in his sleep. We moved into a house close to the church on
Airline. I had a bed-wetting problem and my father would wake me up and put
me in my bed. One night, he ran his tongue in my mouth. I told my mom.
Another time, I was in the living room and my father paraded himself in front
of me naked. I remember many times my mother would send me out of the room
for no apparent reason and I would cry because I never knew what I had done
wrong. My mother got a
job at a hamburger place, and my brother, two sisters, and I were home with
my dad. He said he had a headache and asked me to lie at the end of the bed
to answer the phone if it rang. I still cannot tell of the things that
happened because I was so scared. He was making noises and I could feel his
fat smothering my face. The phone rang and he answered it. I was pinned down
under him and he hung up the phone and began saying, “Praise the Lord,”
“Hallelujah,” and “Thank you Lord.” I
don’t know how long this went on but I do remember the phone ringing three
different times. I don't even remember how I got out of the room
because the next thing I remember is that I was standing in my front yard. I
was so scared and confused. I ran from him. The safest place I could think of
was the church. I began running and my brother chased me down. When I told
him what happened, he pushed me into the nearby ditch and ran to get my
father. They caught me. When my dad approached me, he held my hand, so gentle
and loving and said, “Honey what is wrong? You had a bad dream.” My father to
this day does not admit any of this.
I had to sit in
a room and wait for my mother to get home. I knew my dad was in big trouble
when she got home. Well, dad was not in big trouble. All this went before the
ministry, including Brother Clyde Patton, Brother Billy Brown and Brother
George Wright, (Gary's dad). They suggested that I be moved into my
grandmother's house. On the night of the big event, my father kept telling me
it was all a dream. I was taken down
to what was called the "Little Red Barn." My mother, through the
advice of the ministry, helped the men in casting out and naming the spirits
that possessed me, such as the “spirit of lust.” She believed we had spirits
that seduced each other. I remember wanting deliverance so bad. I wanted to
be "a perfect overcomer." I wanted to be loved. At one point, my
mother did kick my father out of the house.
She had a dream that she felt was an answer to prayer. She kicked my
dad out. After my mom kicked dad out, Brother Clyde Patton said she had done
the right thing. He later came back to tell her she needed my father for
financial support. In an effort to be obedient to the ministry, she let him
come back and he continued to molest me. Not only was he asked to move back,
sometime later, he was made pastor of the Willis church. The church was later
taken from him because he was not financially responsible. Brother Patton
confronted him in front of everyone. This is what separated my dad from the
church. Eventually, my parents divorced. My mother today says the divorce was
because of what he did to me. My father was exposed when I was around 10.
They divorced when I was in my 20's. No one did anything. I have come
back. I look at Brother Billy Brown; he counseled us throughout the whole
event. I never really had much to say to him. I wonder why no one comes up to
me now, no one to this day. Maybe we just learn to forgive. I do not go to
church there to find comfort for myself. I seek to find the courage to let my
life be a testimony for all the survivors.
At the age of
twelve, I began to dream of what it would be like to be free. My mind was set
on getting away from my home. I loved them all, but I just couldn't take
anymore. I became a very rebellious youth. The dreams I had upon receiving
the Holy Ghost stayed with me, like falling in love for the first time. It
created an absolute bond. This was the one thing that haunted me throughout
my life. I would tell only my closest friends. I always questioned it, the
dream about California bad weather. I still don't understand the importance
of it except that it takes away doubt when I am told, even when I am telling
myself, God does not care or He is not paying attention. I want to thank
the Lord for all He has shown me through my afflictions. The joy in my soul has
made the journey a blessing rather than a curse. Something for me that keeps
coming to mind is that, as the Lord has been dealing with me through the
years I am brought back to a memory. When I was young, much younger, early
teens maybe, I had this amazing enlightening dream. I remember the emotions I
felt in this dream. I knew that we had made it. I saw many of the sisters in
the church. Now in this dream the emotion was one of joy, yet, the women in
the church were not dressed as they dress now. They were hidden away in
something similar to a war vault. They were very oppressed. Their names had
been changed. I remember trying to get the point across in this dream. As my
story was told, I had many of the saints ask me if they were specifically in
the dream. I remember the burden I felt on me, as I watched each one with
hope in their eyes. The true meaning of that vision was displaced, as I was
too young to deliver it appropriately. I’m not sure I was even a teen at the
time. The dream of the
women in oppression: I believe that is about what is going on now. I believe
the women have been oppressed, but God has always had His hand in it, for His
glory not man's. These women are already a part of the victory. Their sins
will be pardoned, and this will release the sins that put them into
oppression. All will know the true meaning of the power of forgiveness (this
is my feeling); I believe this with all my heart. This blesses me. I believe
it so much. I no longer fear the past. I rejoice in the future. I rejoice in
my present, for I know if He brought me this far, He will do the rest. This
is the dream I had, and I see it. Not only do I see it, I am a part of it,
else I would have never had the kind of faith necessary to believe in what I
now know. These dreams are a confirmation to me of the power of God. I am so
blessed, amazed, and humbled by Him. Oh! My goodness. I wondered about the
significance of this information, the vision of the women in oppression, yet
rejoicing of their victory, so thankful they had "made it.” The dream where the angel showed me the
statue had been destroyed: I knew the meaning of that dream upon receiving
it. At the time, I could not imagine a life outside the church, so the dream
left an uncomfortable feeling, certainly not one you go around shouting
about. I believe that
dream is also about now. I still cannot give the interpretation of it because
of the possibility that someone could be offended; someone who is so close to
a victory for themselves that administering this information could cause them
to lose hope. Some people serve God to find security, because they have not
learned what it is, they have in God. He is your insecurity as well as your
security. My connection
with the Houston church is through my spiritual birth, as is my connection to
my natural family. After my marriage to my present husband, the one thing I
wanted more than anything was to come to peace with my spiritual family. I
would reason with that desire constantly. I really didn't have any animosity,
I felt humiliation and terror every time I was around the familiar
atmosphere. I remember one day driving into the parking lot of the church
on Airline and crying out loud, “Please, I just want to come home.” I sat in
the parking lot and went through the fear, allowing myself to be ripped apart
inside, still praying, “Please Lord take this desire away!” I wanted so
desperately to be whole again. A year later, I
went to the house where this had happened. This time I took a friend. I pulled
off the side of the road and began vomiting. I hated how this had such a
strong hold on me. This was one in a million times I had tried to go down
that street. This time I made it. I thought to myself, “If this never
happened to me, why am I so tormented?”
“If I was so delusional, why didn't anyone seek help for me?” I remembered my
father standing in the hallway and my mother looking at me, saying, “Now I
want you to look your father in the eye and tell him what he did to you.” I
was standing at the kitchen cabinets. I began to tell him. He laughed at me
and asked me why I hated him so much and did I want him and my mother to get
a divorce that bad? I began beating my head against the kitchen
cabinets. This all came
back to me as I sat in front of the house where it happened. Or as it has
always been said; “where it never happened.” It breaks me completely
to think that anyone is going through this. I am afraid they may be
overlooked. I am slowing down to
grasp the feeling that was portrayed through my mother’s eyes: body language.
I always wanted to understand the type of thinking of a person who commits
acts of incest or tortures their children. How can they have any concept of
love? She has described her view of the relationship of my father and
myself. It was as though she were
trying to show me how even in my innocence I was guilty. That I was born with
the sin of Adam, and my father was the one who was weak. As she has tried to
explain these things to me, I began to understand the beating I received from
my mother (in the name of Jesus). She was battling her own mind. This is not
God’s will. She carries so much guilt. At the same time, I have compassion
for her because even when she wanted to do something, she felt she would be
disobeying God if she did not obey the ministry. What I am telling her is
that there is a church that Paul speaks of and the Lord has truly lifted
me into a place of understanding that I am a part of it... by grace.
There are others, whether they are imprisoned by the religious demon that has
brought this illness on Gospel Assembly, or any other religious group. The
point is, it all must come down. I remember when
I was a kid. On Airline Street, the whole street was filled with topless
bars. I remember our church protesting against the bars. I got so angry. I
lived behind the church. Often I would just watch the people going in and
out. I wondered why I never heard of us offering help. I would truly try to
figure out why we never offered a hand to people outside the church. I could
imagine Jesus walking across the street. He would be dressed in a way that
people would not see Him as different. He would blend in. I could imagine the
beautiful words that would come out of His mouth, the words of life. I would
get so blessed just daydreaming about it. I always felt our approach to
overcoming sin was self-righteous. It is no wonder I "backslid.” I am sure that
Jesus would not hang out in topless bars anymore than he hung out with
"Christians" or religious groups. The simplicity of Him is what I
feel is missing. I feel that we (GAC) are building a place of safety in an
effort to be in this world; but not of this world. Because of the influence
that I grew up under as a child raised in GAC, I am compelled to believe there
is more to that scripture than feeling safe because you attend service, dress
a certain way, worship a certain way. The true separation from the world is
the internal belief that we are saved by grace. The closer I come to the
truth that I am no longer under the law of sin, but under the law of grace, I
feel the resurrection of Christ. This is where I receive a new mind. This
does not happen by drilling people through service every night or listening
to tapes at home, making demands such as do not go outside the church for
help (psychiatrists or counseling). I
would have never received any kind of help if I had not gone outside the
church. No one even believed it enough to offer any help. That is not a safe
place; no matter how beautiful the worship is, or how holy the dress is; our
hearts are blind to the needs of the people. My backsliding
put me in an honest relationship with myself. I am not happy about the things
that I suffered; I am thankful that the Lord has used my life to reflect Him
in a very real way. My life is not sugar coated. My testimony is a truth of
how Jesus has a personal interest in each and every one of us. My story does
not in any way reflect the power of man. I am, and will always be, a member
of Gospel Assembly on Airline Drive. They will always be a very special
people in my heart. My natural family will always be dear to me as well. I am
in a constant struggle when it comes to always putting Jesus first. I am
vulnerable to both influences. Then I have my own thinking that I do not
trust anymore than I trust the judgment of GAC or the Dacus clan or all those
on this web site. My point is that
I never personally developed a belief that the ministers were anything more than
messengers of God. I never took that lightly. I feel we are all messengers or
vessels of God and He will use us according to our hearts desire. Some are
vessels of honor and some are vessels of dishonor. I remember the stir over
the young people when we heard that Brother and Sister Brown were going to
have a baby. We had heard him teach that we would have to overcome sex. I
never thought of overcoming as “not being human.” I always thought of
overcoming as giving everything to God, your sins, your lusts, and He would
mold you according to His will. To me if two people were married it was only
natural that they would have a child. What is the sin in that? Whatever the
sin is in that it is covered through the sanctity of marriage because Jesus
said so. The message of marriage to me is beautiful. It’s too bad there are
so many hang-ups. My parents
taught us all the stuff that I hear over this web site. They enforced the
rules as they are spelled out on this web site. I can see Lloyd Goodwin in my
mother. The problem I have today is; for the first time I am questioning
where they got these ideas? I wonder how much of what they did was because
they were "following the ministry.” As my mind recaptures the past I am
beginning to see my parents were under a very heavy load. I remember what I
thought of Brother Patton as a child. My parents taught me that he was a
minister and that God would punish us if we said anything against him. I
thought he must be an overcomer. I watched him closely as I was growing up. I
thought of Brother Brown in this way and Brother George Wright. There was a
Shetland pony around "the ten acres" when I was growing up. There
were some of us who wanted to ride him. I had watched several of the guys try
it. I watched the pony buck them off. Brother Patton drove by. I asked him if
he thought the pony would buck me off. He said it would not buck little
girls. I hopped right on. The pony did not care that I was a little girl. My
back was terribly bruised. The pony threw me off and kicked me several times.
I could not get up. My mother came running out. She was very angry with me. I
am sure he never intended for me to get on the pony. But I truly believed I
was safe because BROTHER PATTON said so. I never thought of him in that way
from that moment on. God created good
and evil. He created evil for its day. This is a thought I have had to go
back to all my life. I truly feel that organized religion is an abomination
to God. Too often I have looked upon my church as an organized religion. I
have heard it preached over and over how different we were compared to other
organized religions. I have never been able to agree. Most of the ways I have
thought have been looked upon as rebellious. I have never had a minister say
this to me. I have never really been under "the ministry" since I
have become an adult. I came close. As I told
Darlene, I don't think we remember differently the things that happened in
the church. She lived in one environment as the pastor’s daughter and I lived
in another. I really appreciate her. Like I have said before, I never knew
the ministers as an adult. I had the influence of my parents. My mom had the
strongest influence. I did not know Brother Patton personally. I never saw
our church, as a whole; do things for the community openly. Maybe there is a
good reason for this. I have always had a desire to reach out. This is not
saying anything particularly bad, I have always been curious as to why we
never had benefits for the needy outside the church. The influence around me
growing up in the church was we were of a higher calling. We were not to
partake of any of the world. We were not to associate with them in any way. I
honestly don't know if my parents took things to the extreme or if this was
the true teaching of the church. The purpose of
me posting on this site is to let out all my negative thoughts, and positive.
I desire an open and honest relationship with the church. I am experiencing a
lot of anxiety with this. I was taught to look to all the ministers as above
my parents in authority; therefore, I am left with the assumption that the
life I had at home had to do with their approval. When Brother Patton heard
of the situation in our home the first thing he advised was to move me into
my grandmother's. This really upset me. I had a true love for the church. My
grandmother was an atheist. Brother Patton was very aware of the incident
with my family and if he were with us today I believe he would never deny it.
As a matter of fact, I wish I could have had the courage to talk to him. I
wish I had not believed that he was so far above me that he was untouchable.
I truly believe he would have worked with me. I believe Brother Patton and
his whole family are very giving people. He did come back just before he passed
away to repent to my mom for not having the right answers in our case. He
went out of his way to locate her at the courthouse in Conroe. That truly
affected our family. He put softness there. Please try to
understand that the fears and distrust associated with the issues implied on
this web site are not to hurt or destroy anyone. I will say for myself
personally: this matter leaves a feeling of no-trust. I want to overcome
this. In order for me to be a part of the church, as I desire to; I cannot leave
anything to chance. I wish none of the events of the past had occurred. I
really thought that I would never have to deal with them again. Brother
Patton was a good man; he, like anyone else, made mistakes, but no one could
ever accuse him of being anything like Lloyd Goodwin. Even though I
have received great victory, my heart is in pain as long as I know there are
others who need to be heard. I feel angry to think that the victim must
remain silent or give his/her story to be counted as a statistic, like we are
adding up stories and if we have enough stories to say there is a problem,
then we will do something. I can't always be at church. I don't have time to
play church. I want to work for the Lord. I am not looking for anything. I hear those crying out for help. I want
to open my heart wide and receive them and I am not concerned about how it
makes "us" look. If we are not associated with this, why not openly
and whole-heartedly disassociate ourselves? It sounds like we are still trying
to find out THE TRUTH. How can one know? The only ones who know the truth
are the ones who participated in the offense. Let me tell you, from the
moment I became aware of what had truly happened to me, I was told it did
not happen, it was a dream. Today I have learned much from this. I am inclined to
go to the victims, for I know the weakness.
As a child, I had received an awesome experience when I came to the
Lord. I felt all of that was taken away due to the sin that was committed
against me. I read about Job. I read about Jesus' crucifixion and I saw God
as cruel. I blamed God more than anyone and I did not want to Love Him. I did
not believe in Him. I could not conceive of Him as one who was given such an
awesome intimate experience only to have it taken away by someone I loved so
much. I remember my mother saying; “One day the Lord will make you strong
from this weakness.” My, my, my, to
see this day has been worth it all. I tried positive thinking, but that only
works when I am in physical pain. It took a miracle of love and grace, and no
greater victory could I have imagined. I know there is more to come from
this.
Go to: CHAPTER TWO - A
VISION
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