Good Morning Holy Spirit ( By Pastor Benny Hinn)

CHAPTER -1 "Can I Really Know You?".
CHAPTER -2 From Jaffa to the Ends of the Earth.
CHAPTER -3 "Tradition, Tradition".
CHAPTER -4 Person to Person.
CHAPTER -5 Whose Voice Do You Hear?.
CHAPTER -6 Spirit, Soul, and Body
CHAPTER -7 Wind for Your Sails..
CHAPTER -8 A Mighty Entrance
CHAPTER -9 Room for the Spirit..
CHAPTER -10 “Only a Breath Away”.
CHAPTER -11 "Why are You Weeping?".
CHAPTER -12 Heaven on Earth.

 Chapter (1) 

1 "Can I Really Know You? It was three days before Christmas 1973. The sun was still rising on that cold, misty Toronto morning. Suddenly He was there. The Holy Spirit entered my room. He was as real to me that morning as the book you are holding in your hand is to you.For the next eight hours I had an incredible experience with the Holy Spirit. It changed the course of my life. Tears of wonder and joy coursed down my cheeks as I opened the Scriptures and He gave me the answers to my questions.
              It seemed that my room had been lifted into the hemisphere of heaven. And I wanted to stay there forever. Ihad just turned twenty-one, and this visitation was the best birthday or Christmas present I had ever received.Just down the hall were my mother and dad. They would never possibly understand what was happening totheir Benny. In fact, had they known what I was experiencing, it could have been the breaking point in a family that was already on the verge of shattering. 
             For nearly two years since the day I gave my life to Jesus—there was virtually no communication between my parents and me. It was horrible. As the son of an immigrant family from Israel, I had humiliated the household by breaking tradition. Nothing else in my life had been this devastating. In my room, however, it was pure joy. Yes, it was unspeakable. Yes, it was full of glory! If you had told me just forty-eight hours earlier what was about to happen tome, I would have said, "No way." But from that very moment the Holy Spirit became alive in my life. He was no longer a distant "third person" of the Trinity. 
               He was real.He had a personality.And now I want to share Him with you.My friend, if you are ready to begin a personal relationship with the Holy Spirit that surpasses anything you ever dreamed possible, read on. If not, let mere commend that you close the covers of this book forever.That's right. Close the book! Because what I am about to share will transform your spiritual life.Suddenly it will happen to you. It may be while you're reading. Perhaps while you're praying. Or while you're driving to work. 
                The Holy Spirit is going to respond to your invitation. He's going to become your closest friend, your guide, your comforter, your life-long companion. And when you and He meet, you'll say, "Benny! Let me tell you what the Spirit has been doing in my life!" 

GOD'S POWER REVEALED (A Short Night in Pittsburgh) 

A friend of mine, Jim Poynter, had asked me to go with him on a charter bus trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I had met Jim, a Free Methodist minister, at the church I attended. The group was going to a meeting of a healing evangelist, Kathryn Kuhlman.To be honest, I knew very little about her ministry. I'd seen her on television, and she totally turned me off. I thought she talked funny and looked a little strange. So I wasn't exactly filled with expectation. 
               But Jim was my friend, and I didn't want to let him down. On the bus I said, "Jim, you'll never know what a tough time I had with my father about this trip." You see, after my conversion, my parents had done everything in their power to keep me from attending church. And now a trip to Pittsburgh? It was almost out of the question, but they grudgingly gave their permission.We left Toronto on Thursday about mid morning. And what should have been a seven-hour trip was slowed by as udden snowstorm. 
                   We didn't arrive at our hotel until one o'clock in the morning.Then Jim said, "Benny, we have to be up at five.""Five this morning?" I asked. "What for?"He told me that if we weren't outside the doors of the building by six o'clock, we'd never get a seat.Well, I just couldn't believe it. Who'd ever heard of standing in the freezing cold before sunrise to go to church?But he said that was what we were supposed to do.It was bitter cold. At five I got up and put on every bit of clothing I could find: boots, gloves, the works. I looked like an Eskimo. 
                  We arrived at the First Presbyterian Church, downtown Pittsburgh, while it was still dark. But what shocked me was that hundreds of people were already there. And the doors wouldn't open for two more hours.Being small has some advantages. I began inching my way closer and closer to the doors—and pulling Jim right behind me. There were even people sleeping on the front steps. A woman told me, "They've been here all night. 
                    It's like this every week."As I stood there, I suddenly began to vibrate—as if someone had gripped my body and begun to shake it. Ithought for a moment that the bitter air had gotten to me.But I was dressed warmly, and I certainly didn't feel too cold. An uncontrollable shaking just came over me.Nothing like that had ever happened before. And it didn't stop. I was too embarrassed to tell Jim, but I could feel my very bones rattling. I felt it in my knees. In my mouth. "What's happening to me?" I wondered. Is this the power of God? I just didn't understand.

 ( Racing through the Church. ) 

By this time the doors were about to open, and the crowd pressed forward until I could hardly move. Still the vibrating wouldn't stop.Jim said, "Benny, when those doors open, run just as fast as you can.""Why?" I asked."If you don't, they'll run right over you." He'd been there before and knew what to expect.Well, I never thought I'd be in a race going to church,but here I was. 
              And when those doors opened, I took off like an Olympic sprinter. I passed everybody: old women,young men, all of them. In fact, I made it right to the front row and tried to sit down. An usher told me the first row was reserved. I learned later that Miss Kuhlman's staff handpicked the people who sat in the front row. She was so sensitive to the Spirit that she wanted only positive, praying supporters right in front of her.With my severe stuttering problem, I knew it would be useless to argue with the usher. 
                    The second row was already filled, but Jim and I found a spot on row three.It would be another hour before the service began, so I took off my coat, my gloves, and my boots. As I relaxed, I realized I was shaking more than before. It just wouldn't stop. The vibrations were going through my arms and legs as if I were attached to some kind of a machine. The experience was foreign to me. To be honest, I was scared.As the organ played, all I could think about was the shaking in my body. It wasn't a "sick" feeling. 
                    It wasn't as if I were catching a cold or a virus. In fact, the longer it continued, the more beautiful it became. It was an unusual sensation that didn't really seem physical at all.At that moment, almost out of nowhere, Kathryn Kuhlman appeared. In an instant, the atmosphere in that building became charged. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't feel anything around me. No voices. No heavenly angels singing. Nothing. All I knew was that I had been shaking for three hours.Then, as the singing began, I found myself doing something I never expected. 
                    I was on my feet. My hands were lifted, and tears streamed down my face as we sang"How Great Thou Art."It was as if I had exploded. Never before had tears gushed from my eyes so quickly. Talk about ecstasy! It wasa feeling of intense glory.I wasn't singing the way I normally sang in church. I sang with my entire being. And when we came to the words, "Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee," I literally sang it from my soul.
                   I was so lost in the Spirit of that song that it took a few moments for me to realize that my shaking had completely stopped. But the atmosphere of that service continued. I thought I had been totally raptured. I was worshiping beyond anything I had ever experienced. It was like coming face to face with pure spiritual truth. Whether anyone else felt it o rnot, I did.
                 In my young Christian experience, God had touched my life, but never as He was touching me that day. Like a Wave “ As I stood there, continuing to worship the Lord, I opened my eyes to look around because suddenly I felt a draft. And I didn't know where it was coming from. It was gentle and slow, like a breeze.I looked at the stained glass windows. But they were all closed. And they were much too high to allow such a draft.The unusual breeze I felt, however, was more like a wave. I felt it go down one arm and up the other. 
                      I actually felt it moving.What was happening? Could I ever have the courage to tell anyone what I felt? They would think I'd lost my mind.For what seemed like ten minutes, the waves of that wind continued to wash over me. And then I felt as if someone had wrapped my body in a pure blanket—a blanket of warmth.Kathryn began ministering to the people, but I was so lost in the Spirit that it really didn't matter. 
                   The Lord was closer to me than He had ever been.I felt I needed to talk to the Lord, but all I could whisper was, "Dear Jesus, please have mercy on me." I said it again,"Jesus, please have mercy on me." I felt so unworthy.I felt like Isaiah when he entered the presence of the Lord.Woe is me, for I am undone!Because I am a man of unclean lips,And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips;For my eyes have seen the King,The LORD of hosts. (Isa. 6:5)The same thing happened when people saw Christ. 
                     They immediately saw their own filth, their need of cleansing.That is what happened to me. It was as if a giant spotlight was beaming down on me. All I could see were my weaknesses, my faults, and my sins.Again and again I said, "Dear Jesus, please have mercy on me."Then I heard a voice that I knew must be the Lord. It was ever so gentle, but it was unmistakable. He said to me,"My mercy is abundant on you."My prayer life to that point was that of a normal,average Christian. But now I was not just talking to the Lord. 
                        He was talking to me. And oh, what a communion that was!Little did I realize that what was happening to me in the third row of the First Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh was just a foretaste of what God had planned for the future.Those words rang on in my ears. "My mercy is abundant on you."I sat down crying and sobbing.
                          There was just no thingin my life to compare with what I felt. I was so filled and transformed by the Spirit that nothing else mattered. I didn't care if a nuclear bomb hit Pittsburgh and the whole world blew up. At that moment I felt, as the Word describes it,"peace. . . which surpasses all understanding" (Phil. 4:7).Jim had told me about the miracles that took place in Miss Kuhlman's meetings. 
                       But I had no idea what I was about to witness in the next three hours. People who were deaf suddenly could hear. A woman got up out of her wheelchair. There were testimonies of healings for tumors,arthritis, headaches, and more. Even her severest critics have acknowledged the genuine healings that took place in her meetings.The service was long, but it seemed like a fleetingmoment. Never in my life had I been so moved and touched by God's power. ( Why Was She Sobbing?) As the service continued and I quietly prayed,everything stopped suddenly.
                      I thought, "Please, Lord, don't ever let this meeting end."I looked up to see Kathryn burying her head in her hands as she began to sob. She sobbed and sobbed so loudly that everything came to a standstill. The music stopped. The ushers froze in their positions.Everyone had their eyes on her. And for the life of me I had no idea why she was sobbing. I'd never seen a minister do that before. What was she crying about? (I was told later that she had never done anything like that before, and members of her staff remember it to this day.)
                        It continued for what seemed like two minutes. Then she thrust back her head. There she was, just a few feet infront of me. Her eyes were aflame. She was alive.In that instant she took on a boldness I had never seen in any person. She pointed her finger, straight out with enormous power and emotion—even pain. If the devil himself had been there, she would have flicked him aside with just a tap.It was a moment of incredible dimension.
                      Still sobbing,she looked out at the audience and said with such agony,"Please." She seemed to stretch out the word, "Please,don't grieve the Holy Spirit."She was begging. If you can imagine a mother pleading with a killer not to shoot her baby, it was like that. She begged and pleaded."Please," she sobbed, "don't grieve the Holy Spirit."Even now I can see her eyes. It was as if they were looking straight at me.And when she said it, you could have dropped a pin and heard it. I was afraid to breathe. 
                         I didn't move a muscle. I was holding on to the pew in front of me wondering what would happen next.Then she said, "Don't you understand? He's all I've got!"I thought, "What's she talking about?"Then she continued her impassioned plea saying,"Please! Don't wound Him. He's all I've got. Don't wound the One I love!"I'll never forget those words. I can still remember the intensity of her breathing when she said them.In my church the pastor talked about the Holy Spirit. But not like this. 
                    His references had to do with the gifts or tongues or prophecy not "He's my closest, most personal,most intimate, most beloved friend." Kathryn Kuhlman was telling me about a person that was more real than you or I. Then she pointed her long finger down at me and said with great clarity, "He's more real than anything in this world!" I've Got to Have It .
                 When she looked at me and uttered those words,something literally grabbed me on the inside. It really got tome. I cried and said, "I've got to have this."Now, frankly, I thought that everyone in that service would feel exactly the same way. But God has a way of dealing with us as individuals, and I believe that service was just for me.Please understand, as a rather new Christian I couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening in that service.
                      But I could not deny the reality and the power I felt. And as the service came to a conclusion, I looked up at the woman evangelist and saw what seemed to be a mist around her and over her. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But there it was. And her face was shining like a light through that mist.I don't for one moment believe that God was trying to glorify Miss Kuhlman.
                          But I do believe He used that service to reveal His power to me.When the service was dismissed, the crowd filed out,but I didn't want to move. I had come in racing, but now I just wanted to sit down and reflect on what had just happened.What I had felt in that building was something my personal life did not offer me. I knew that when I returned to my home, the persecution would continue.My own self-image was practically destroyed because of my speech impediment. 
                   Even when I was a child in Catholic schools, my stuttering left me isolated with almost no one to talk to.Even after I became a Christian, I made very few friends. How could I meet new people when I could hardly communicate?So I never wanted what I found in Pittsburgh to leaveme. All I had in life was Jesus. And nothing else in life had much meaning. I had no real future. My family had practically turned their backs on me.
                        Oh, I knew they loved me, but my decision to serve Christ had created a gulf that was exceedingly wide.I just sat there. After all, who wants to go to hell after they've been to heaven?But there was no choice. The bus was waiting and I had to go back. I paused at the back of the church for one last moment, thinking, "What did she mean? What was she saying when she talked about the Holy Spirit?"All the way back to Toronto I kept thinking, "I don't know what she meant." I even asked a few people on the bus. 
                     They couldn't tell me because they did not understand either.Needless to say, when I arrived home, I was totally exhausted. What with lack of sleep, hours on the road, and a spiritual experience that was like an emotional roller coaster, my body was ready for a rest.But I could not sleep. My body was weary to the bone,but my spirit was still stirring like a never-ending series of volcanoes erupting inside me. 

 ( KNOWING GOD’S PRESENCE;) 

Who Is Pulling Me?As I lay on my bed, I felt as if someone was pulling me off the mattress and onto my knees. It was a strange sensation, but I felt it so strongly I couldn't resist. There I was, in the darkness of that room, on my knees.God wasn't through with me yet, and I responded to His leading. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn't quite know how to ask for it. What I wanted was what that minister in Pittsburgh had. I thought, "I want what Kathryn Kuhlman's got." I wanted it with every atom and fiber within me. 
                 I hungered for what she was talking about even though I didn't understand it.Yes, I knew what I wanted to say but didn't know howto say it. So I decided to ask the only way I knew in my own simple words.I wanted to address the Holy Spirit, but I had never done that before. I thought, "Am I doing this right?" After all, I'd never spoken to the Holy Spirit. I never thought Hewas a person to be addressed. I didn't know how to start the prayer, but I knew what was inside me. All I wanted was to know Him the way she knew Him.
                   And here is what I prayed: "Holy Spirit. Kathryn Kuhlman says you are her friend." I slowly continued, "I don't think I know you. Now, before today I thought I did.But after that meeting I realize I really don't. I don't think Iknow you."And then, like a child, with my hands raised, I asked,"Can I meet you? Can I really meet you?"I wondered, "Is what I'm saying right? Should I bespeaking to the Holy Spirit like this?" Then I thought, "If I'm honest in this, God will show me whether I'm right or wrong." 
                  If Kathryn was wrong, I wanted to find out.After I spoke to the Holy Spirit, nothing seemed to happen. I began to question myself, "Is there really such an experience as meeting the Holy Spirit? Can it truly happen?"My eyes were closed. Then, like a jolt of electricity, my body began to vibrate all over exactly as it had through the two hours I waited to get into the church. It was the same shaking I had felt for another hour once inside.
                    It was back, and I thought, "Oh. It's happening again."But this time there were no crowds. No heavy clothes. I was just in my own warm room in my pajamas vibrating from my head to my toes.I was afraid to open my eyes. This time it was as if everything that happened in that service all rolled into one moment. I was shaking, but at the same time I again felt that warm blanket of God's power wrapped all around me.I felt as if I had been translated to heaven. Of course I wasn't, but I honestly don't believe heaven can be any greater than that. In fact, I thought, "If I open my eyes, I'll either be in Pittsburgh or inside the pearly gates."Well, after a time, I did open my eyes, and to my surprise I was right there in my same room. Same floor.Same pajamas. 
                      But I was still tingling with the power of God's Spirit.When I finally dropped off to sleep that night, I still didn't realize what had begun in my life. ( The First Words I Spoke.) Early, very early, the next morning I was wide awake. And I couldn't wait to talk to my newfound friend.Here were the first words out of my mouth: "Good morning, Holy Spirit!"At the very moment I spoke those words, the glorious atmosphere returned to my room. 
                   This time, though, I was not vibrating or shaking. All I felt was the wrapping of His presence.The second I said, "Good morning, Holy Spirit," I knew He was present with me in the room. Not only was I filled with the Spirit that morning, I also received a fresh infilling every time I spent time in prayer.What I am talking about is beyond speaking in tongues.Yes, I did speak in a heavenly language, but it was much more than that. The Holy Spirit became real. He became my friend. He became my companion, my counselor.The first thing I did that morning was to open the Bible.I wanted to be sure.
                    And as I opened the Word, I knew He was there with me as if He was sitting down beside me. No,I did not see his face or His countenance. But I knew where He was. And I began to know His personality.From that moment on the Bible took on a whole new dimension. I would say, "Holy Spirit, show it to me in the Word." I wanted to know why He had come, and He led me to these words: "We have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God" (1Cor.2:12). When I asked why He wanted to be my friend, He led me to the words of Paul: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all" (2 Cor. 13:14). 
               The Bible became alive. I had never really understood the impact of those words, "'Not by might nor by power,but by My Spirit,' says the Lord" (Zech. 4:6). Over and over again, He confirmed in the Word what He was doing in my life. For more than eight hours that first day, then day after day, I grew to know Him more.My prayer life began to change. "Now," I said, "Holy Spirit, since you know the Father so well, would you help me pray?" And when I began to pray, I came to the place where suddenly the Father was more real than He had ever been before. It was as if someone had opened a door and said, "Here He is." 

( My Teacher, My Guide ) 

The reality of the fatherhood of God became clearer than I had ever known. It was not by reading a book. Or following a formula A, B, C. It was just by asking the Holy Spirit to open the Word to me. And He did. " . . . as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God.For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear,but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, 'Abba, Father'" (Rom. 8:14-15).
                I began to comprehend everything Jesus said about the Holy Spirit. He was my comforter, my teacher, my guide.I understood for the first time what Jesus meant when He told His disciples, "Follow Me." Then one day He said,"Don't follow Me—because where I'm going you can't go."He told them, "But the Holy Ghost, He will guide you. He will lead you on."What was He doing? Christ was giving them another leader. Another one to follow.
                   My search of the Scriptures went on day after day for weeks—until all of my questions were answered. All that time I was getting to know the Holy Spirit better. And that communion has never stopped to this day. I realized He was right here with me. And my entire life has been transformed. I believe yours will be too.Today as I arose, I said it again: "Good morning, HolySpirit."

Chapter (2) From Jaffa to the Ends of the Earth

It was December 1952 in Jaffa, Israel. Clemence Hinn, about to give birth to her second child,was in the hospital, gazing out the window of her maternity oom at a beautiful sight. The deep blue waters of the Mediterranean were stretched to infinity.
             But the heart of this small woman of Armenian descent was troubled. She was torn with bitterness, fear, and shame.Off in the distance she could see the black cluster of rocks in the sea, Andromeda's Rocks. Greek legend holds that the maiden Andromeda was chained to one of them when Perseus flew down on his winged horse, slew the sea monster, and rescued her.
              Clemence wanted someone somehow to swoop down and save her from another year of humiliation and disgrace. She was a devout Greek Orthodox woman, but she didn't know much about the Lord. In that humble hospital room,however, she tried to make a bargain with Him.As she stood by the window, her eyes pierced the sky,and she spoke from her heart: "God, I have only one request.
              If you'll give me a boy, I'll give him back to you." She repeated it again, "Please, Lord. If you'll give me a boy, I'll give him back to you." I was christened in the Greek Orthodox Church by the patriarch of Jerusalem, Benedict us. In fact, during the ceremony he gave me his name. Being born in the Holy Land meant being born in an atmosphere where religion casts an inescapably wide shadow. At the age of two I was enrolled in a Catholic preschool and was formally trained by nuns and later monks for fourteen years.To me, Jaffa was a beautiful city.
                In fact, that is what the word itself means beautiful. Jaffa in Arabic, Joppa in ancient Greek, or Yafo in Hebrew. In every language the meaning is the same.As a boy I loved hearing the stories of history that surrounded me. Jaffa was founded back before recorded time. It is mentioned as a Canaanite city in the tribute lists of Pharaoh Thutmose III in the fifteenth century B.C., even before Joshua fought the battle of Jericho.
               And it is where the Phoenician King Hiram of Tyre unloaded cedar logs for King Solomon's temple.Though it was fascinating, history had not been kind to my birthplace. Jaffa was invaded, captured, destroyed, and rebuilt again and again. Simon the Maccabee, Vespasian,the Mame lukes, Napoleon, and Allen by have all claimed her. Only six years before I was born, Jaffa found herself in a new nation, the prophetic state of Israel. But the community itself was not Jewish. Mayor Hinn , My father was the mayor of Jaffa during my childhood.

He was a strong man, about 6'2", 250 pounds, and a natural leader. He was strong in every way—physically, mentally,and in will. His family came from Greece to Egypt before settling in Palestine. But being "from somewhere else" was common. The Jaffa of my childhood was truly an international city.Walking down Raziel Street into Tower Square that contains the Abdul Hamid Jubilee Clock Tower, the stone-walled jail, and the Great Mosque, built in 1810, I could hear locals conversing in French, Bulgarian, Arabic,Yiddish, and other languages. And in the kiosks and open-air cafes, I could sample baklava, zlabiya, felafel, sum-sum,and dozens of other delights.So here I was, born in Israel, but not Jewish. Raised in an Arabic culture, but not of Arabic origin.
              Attending a Catholic school, but raised as a Greek Orthodox.Languages come easy in that part of the world. I thought everyone was supposed to speak three or four.Arabic was spoken in our home, but at school the Catholic sisters taught in French, except for the Old Testament,which was studied in ancient Hebrew. During my childhood, the hundred thousand people of Jaffa had become engulfed by the exploding Jewish population of Tel Aviv to the north.
            Today the metropolish as the official name of Tel Aviv- Jaffa. Over four hundred thousand live in the area. Actually, Tel Aviv began as a Jewish experiment in1909 when sixty families bought thirty-two acres of bares and dunes just north of Jaffa and marched out to the site.They were tired of the cramped conditions and noisy Arab quarters where they lived. The expansion continued untilTel Aviv became Israel's largest city.Even though my father was not Jewish, the Israelileaders trusted him.
               And they were happy to have someone in Jaffa who could relate to such an international community. We were proud of his circle of friends, which included many national leaders. He was asked to be an ambassador for Israel in foreign nations, but chose to stayin Jaffa. But there was very little time for the family. In fact, I can't really say that I knew my father then. It seemed he was always attending an official function or an important meeting.He wasn't a demonstrative person, just strict and he seldom showed any physical signs of affection.

(Mymother, however, made up for that.) 

Again, part of that was the culture. Men were men!We lived comfortably. Dad's position in government made it possible for us to have a home in the suburbs. It was a wonderful home that had a wall around it with glass along the top for security. My mother was a homemaker in every sense of the word; raising that brood of little Hinns was more than a full-time job. 

( A Catholic Cocoon ) 

As my education continued, I considered myself to be aCatholic. The process started very early. The preschool I attended was actually more like a convent.
              Mass was celebrated regularly. My parents didn't protest because a private Catholic school education was considered to be the best available.Weekdays I studied with the nuns, and on Sunday I went to the Greek Orthodox church with Mom and Dad.But that was not considered a major problem in polyglot Jaffa. Loyalty to one particular church did not seem that important.Was I a Catholic? Absolutely. Catholicism was my prayer life. It occupied my time and attention five days a week. It became my mentality.
              I practically lived at the convent, and in that cocoon I become very detached from the world.I was also separated from the world in an unfortunate way. From earliest childhood I was afflicted with a severe stutter. The smallest amount of social pressure or nervousness triggered my stammering, and it was almost unbearable. I found it difficult to make friends. Some children made fun of me others just stayed away.I knew very little of world events only what my teachers wanted me to know. But I was an expert on the Catholic life.
          As the schooling continued, I attended the College de Frere (College of Brothers) and was taught by monks.Even as a small boy, I was extremely religious. I prayed and I prayed probably more than some Christians pray today. But all I knew how to pray was the Hail Mary, the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and other prescribed prayers.Only rarely did I really talk to the Lord. When I had some specific request, I mentioned it. Otherwise my prayer life was all very organized. Very routine.
                The one maxim seemed to be, "You should feel pain when you pray." And that was easy. There was practically nowhere to kneel except on the white Jerusalem rock that was everywhere. Most of the homes are made of it. And the schools I attended had no carpet, just plain white rock floors.I actually came to believe that if you didn't suffer with your supplication, the Lord wouldn't hear you, thatsuffering was the best way to gain God's favor.Even though virtually no spirituality accompanied the teaching, I still cherish the foundation I received in the Bible.
            I often think, "How many kids are taught the Old Testament in Hebrew?" And our field trips literally made God's Word come to life.Once we traveled into the Negev where we stood next to the wells Abraham had dug and learned about him. That experience will stay with me forever. 

( His Robe Was Whiter Than White ) 

Several times in my life God has spoken to me in a vision. It happened only once during my years in Jaffa,when I was just a boy of eleven.I really believe it was at that moment that God began moving in my life. I can remember the vision as if it happened yesterday.
              I saw Jesus walk into my bedroom. He was wearing a robe that was whiter than white and a deepred mantle was draped over the robe.I saw His hair. I looked into His eyes. I saw the nail-prints in His hands. I saw everything. You must understand that I did not know Jesus. I had not asked Christ to come into my heart. But the moment I saw Him, I recognized Him. I knew it was the Lord. When it happened, I was asleep, but suddenly my little body was caught up in an incredible sensation that can only be described as "electric." It felt as if someone had plugged me into a wired socket.
                 There was a numbness that felt like needles a million of them—rushing through my body.And then the Lord stood before me while I was in adeep, deep sleep. He looked straight at me with the most beautiful eyes. He smiled, and His arms were open wide. I could feel His presence. It was marvelous and I'll never forget it. The Lord didn't say anything to me. He just looked at me. And then He disappeared.Immediately I was wide awake. At the time I could scarcely understand what was happening, but it wasn't a dream.
                  Those kinds of feelings don't happen in a dream.God allowed me to experience a vision that would create an indelible impression on my young life.As I awakened, the wondrous sensation was still there. I opened my eyes and looked all around, but this intense,powerful feeling was still in me. I felt totally paralyzed. I couldn't move a muscle. Not an eyelash. I was completely frozen there. Yet I was in control. This unusual feeling overtook me but didn't dominate me.In fact, I felt I could say, "No, I don't want this," and the experience would have lifted. But I didn't say anything.
                      While I lay there, awake, the feeling stayed with me, then slowly went away.In the morning I told my mother about the experience,and she still remembers her words. She said, "You must be a saint, then."Things like that didn't happen to people in Jaffa, whether they were Catholic or Greek Orthodox. Of course,I was certainly no "saint," but my mother believed that if Jesus came to me, He must be singling me out for a higher calling.While God was dealing with my life, other factors were at work that would forever change the future of our family.

(THE ENDS OF THE EARTH) 

From Gaza to the Golan Heights Living in Israel during the sixties, I could feel the
escalating political tension. Arab raids into Israel occurred almost daily along the borders from Egypt to Jordan and Syria. And the Israeli army regularly retaliated with raids of their own.In May 1967 Israel and the three Arab countries all alerted their armed forces for a possible war.
                   At Egypt's demand the United Nations troops left the Gaza Strip and the Sinai Peninsula.Then, on June 5, 1967, Israeli planes attacked air fields in Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. It was called the Six-Day War.In less than one week, the Israelis destroyed the Arab air forces almost completely. Israeli troops occupied the Gaza Strip, the Sinai Peninsula, the West Bank, and Syria's Golan Heights.
            Suddenly, Israel controlled Arab territory totaling more than three times the area of Israel itself.I'll never forget the day, early in 1968, that my father gathered the family together and told us that he was making plans for us to emigrate. He said, "Please don't discuss it with anyone because there may be some problems with our exit visas."In the beginning, the plan was to move to Belgium.Father had some relatives there, and the thought of moving to a French-speaking country sounded exciting.
\            After all,that was the language of my schooling. Then one evening an attache from the Canadian embassy came to our home and showed us a short movie on life in Canada. Toronto seemed like such a thriving city.Father had two brothers who lived there, but we doubted that they were financially qualified to be our official sponsor.The questions surrounding our leaving seemed to grow day by day. At one point my father told us we might not be ready to depart the country for five years.

 ( I Bargained with God.)

 By that time we were all so anxious to leave that I got down on my knees—on that Jerusalem rock and made avow to God. "Lord," I prayed, "if you will get us out, I'll bring you the biggest jar of olive oil I can find." And Iadded, "When we get to Toronto, I'll bring it to church and present it to you in thanksgiving."In my up bringing, bar gaining with God wasn't unusual.And olive oil was a precious commodity. So I made the vow.
             Within weeks a young man from the Canadian embassy called my father to say, "Mister Hinn. We've worked everything out—don't ask me how. All of your paper work is in order, and you can leave whenever you're ready."It didn't take long. We sold almost all our possessions and prepared for a new life in North America. During those last days in the Holy Land, I had a keen sense that something great was about to happen. I knew I was leaving a special city, but I felt that the best was yet before me.It was from the harbor of the ancient city of Joppa my Jaffa that Jonah left. And the result was the salvation of Nineveh.
          And how many times had I climbed to the Citadel, the high mount overlooking the harbor. Near the lighthouse is a Franciscan church built in 1654. Next to it is the site of the house of Simon the Tanner where the apostle Peter stayed for some time and had a vision that changed the world. Hearing the voice of God telling him to receive Gentiles as well as Jews into the church, Peter responded, "In truth I perceive that God shows no partiality. But in every nation whoever fears Him and works righteousness is accepted by Him" (Acts 10:34-35).
         From that very moment, the message of Christ was spread from Joppa to Caesarea and on to the ends of the earth touching all of humankind. As we drove down Haganah Road to the Lod airport, I wondered, "Will I ever see this place again?" I thought about those Catholic nuns who so lovingly had taught me.Had I seen their faces for the last time?Out of the plane window I took one last look down at TelAviv, a huge expanse of gray-white cubes. Behind me were miles of deep green orange groves.
          The Jude an hills gleamed faintly in the distance.And as we headed over the waters of the Mediterranean,I looked down and said one last good-bye to Jaffa. There was a lump in my throat. I was fourteen, and it was the only home I had ever known. ( Ice Cream at the Kiosk.) The Hinn family arrival in Toronto in July 1968 was an unheralded event. And that's just the way my father want edit. No welcoming committee met us. And he had no promise of a job.We arrived with the clothes on our backs, a few possessions in suitcases, and a little money from what we had sold in Jaffa.
               It was enough to get by for a short time. Our new life began in a rented apartment.What a shock to land suddenly in a "foreign" culture. I could stutter in several languages, but English was not one of them. "One, two, three," was as far as it went. But Daddy had studied enough English to fill out a job application.And it worked. He accepted the challenge of becoming, of all things, an insurance salesman.I don't know whether it was the burden of having to raise a large family, or his natural confidence in dealing with people, but my dad became an immediate success in his newfound profession. And before too many months we moved into our own home.
               We were all so proud of it. Life changed rapidly for me. Instead of attending a private Catholic school, I went to a public high school Georges Vanier Secondary School. And since most of the kids at school had part-time jobs, that's what I wanted to do.We lived in the North York section of Toronto, and not far from us the new Fair view Mall had opened. I applied at a little kiosk that sold hamburgers and ice cream. Even though I had no previous work experience, they hired me.
              And every day after school I headed there.One Saturday, though, I walked into a grocery store and asked the manager, "Where can I find the olive oil? I need the largest jug or container of it you have." Sure enough, he found a big one.The next day, I walked proudly into the Greek Orthodox church and made good on my vow to God. I placed it at the front of the altar and quietly said, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you for bringing us safely to our new home."My heart was as full as that jug of oil.At the kiosk I did my work. Because of my stutter, I didn't get into many conversations, but I did become a whiz at packing the ice cream into those sugar cones.
             I worked with a fellow named Bob. ( Had Bob Lost His Mind?) I'll never forget the day in 1970 when I came to work to find that Bob had done something quite strange. All over the walls of that little kiosk he had tacked little pieces of paper with Scripture verses written on them. I thought he'd lost his mind.I knew he was a Christian he told me so. But wasn't this going a bit too far? I said to myself, "Why is he doing this? Is it for me? I probably know the Bible better than he does.
          "Finally I asked him, "What's the idea of all these pieces of paper?" Instantly, he began to witness to me. I though the would never quit. And when it was over, I was determined to stay as far away from this crazy fellow as I could. For the longest time I tried to avoid him. But it was nearly impossible. After all, we had to work together. Over and over, he brought up the topic of religion. But it was more than that. He wanted to talk about being "born again,"a phrase that was not in my limited vocabulary— nor in my view of Scripture.
             Bob finally quit his job at the kiosk, but many of hisfriends were at my school. And for the next two years I did my best to avoid them. I thought, "They're a bunch of weirdos." They looked weird. They talked weird. They were complete opposites of the nuns who had taught me.During my senior year at Georges Vanier, for the second time in my life, I had an encounter with the Lord.He came into my room and visited me this time in the form of an unforgettable dream.In Jaffa when I was eleven, the vision of Jesus standing before me had left an indelible impression.
              But now, in Toronto, I was not caught up in the study of Scripture. Oh, Is till attended church. But what was about to happen to me came out of left field. It was totally unexpected, and I was stunned by the experience.Let me tell you exactly what happened in my bed room that chilly night in February 1972.As the dream unfolded, I found myself descending along, dark stairway. 
                  It was so steep I thought I would fall.And it was leading me into a deep, endless chasm.I was bound by a chain to a prisoner in front of me and a prisoner behind me. I was dressed in the clothing of a convict. There were chains on my feet and around my wrists.
             As far as I could see ahead of me and behind me there was a never-ending line of captives.Then, in the eerie haze of that dimly lit shaft, I saw dozens of small people moving around. They were like imps with strange-shaped ears. I couldn't see their faces,and their forms were barely visible.
                  But we were obviously being pulled down the stairway by them, like a herd of cattle to a slaughterhouse or even worse.Suddenly, appearing out of nowhere, was the angel of the Lord. Oh, it was a wondrous thing to behold. The heavenly being hovered just ahead of me, just a few steps away.Never in my life had I seen such a sight not even in a dream. A bright and beautiful angel in the midst of that dark, black hole.

As I looked again, the angel motioned with his hand for me to come to him. Then he looked into my eyes and called me out. My eyes were riveted to his, and I began to walk toward him. Instantly those bonds fell off my hands and feet. I was no longer tied to my fellow prisoners. Hurriedly the angel led me through an open doorway,and the moment I walked into the light, the celestial being took me by the hand and dropped me on Don Mills Road right at the corner of Georges Vanier School.
                He left me just inches from the wall of the school, right beside a window. In a second the angel was gone, and I woke up early and rushed off to school to study in the library before classes began. ( "I Could Hardly Blink") As I sat there, not even thinking about the dream, a small group of students walked over to my table. I recognized them immediately. 
              They were the ones who had been pestering me with all of this "Jesus" talk.They asked me to join in their morning prayer meeting.The room was just off the library. I thought, "Well, I'll get them off my back. One little prayer meeting isn't going to hurt me."I said, "All right," and they walked with me into the room.
              It was a small group, just twelve or fifteen kids. And my chair was right in the middle.All of a sudden the entire group lifted their hands and began to pray in some funny foreign language. I didn't even close my eyes. I could hardly blink. Here were students seventeen, eighteen, nineteen years old—kids I had known in class praising God with unintelligible sounds.I had never heard of speaking in tongues, and I was dumbfounded.
             To think that here was Benny, in a public school, on public property, sitting in the middle of a bunch of babbling fanatics. It was almost more than I could comprehend. I didn't pray. I just watched.What happened next was more than I could ever have imagined. I was startled by a sudden urge to pray. But I really didn't know what to say.
             "Hail Mary" see me  inappropriate for what I was feeling. I had never been taught the "sinner's prayer"—not in all of my religion classes. All I could remember of my encounters with the"Jesus people" was the phrase "You've got to meet Jesus."Those words seemed out of place to me because I thought I knew Him.
                    It was an awkward moment. No one was praying with me or even for me. Yet I was surrounded by the most intense spiritual atmosphere I had ever felt. Was I a sinner?I didn't think so. I was just a good little Catholic boy, who prayed every night and confessed sin whether I needed to or not.But at that moment I closed my eyes and said four words that changed my life forever. Right out loud I said,"Lord Jesus, come back.
                    "I don't know why I said it, but that's all that would come out of my mouth. I repeated those words again and again."Lord Jesus, come back. Lord Jesus, come back."Did I think He had left my house or departed from my life? I really did not know. But the moment I uttered those words a feeling came over me—it took me back to the numbness I felt at age eleven.
            It was less intense, but I could feel the voltage of that same force. It went right through me.What I really felt, though, was that this surge of power was cleansing me instantly, from the inside out. I felt absolutely clean, immaculate, and pure. Suddenly I saw Jesus with my own eyes. It happened in a moment of time. There he was. Jesus.

 ( Five Minutes to Eight ) 

The students around me couldn't possibly know what was taking place in my life. They were all praying. Then,one by one, they began slipping out of the room and on to their classes.It was five minutes to eight o'clock in the morning. By this time I was just sitting there crying. I didn't know what to do or what to say. At the time I didn't understand it, but Jesus became as real to me as the floor beneath my feet. I didn't really pray,except for those four words. But I knew beyond any doubt that something extraordinary had happened that February morning.I was almost late for history.
             It was one of my favorite subjects; we were studying the Chinese Revolution. But I couldn't even hear the teacher. I don't remember anything that was said. The feeling that began that morning would not leave me. Every time I closed my eyes, there He was Jesus. And when I opened my eyes, He was still there. The picture of the Lord's face would not leave me.All day I was wiping the tears from my eyes.
               And the only thing I could say was, "Jesus, I love you .... Jesus, I love you."As I walked out of the door of the school and down the sidewalk to the corner, I looked at the window of the library. And the pieces began to fall into place.The angel. The dream. It all became real again.What was God trying to tell me?What was happening to Benny?

Chapter 3 "Tradition,Tradition"

Finally, at three or four o'clock in the morning, with aquiet peace that I had never known before, I fell asleep.
BELONGING The next day at school I sought out those "fanatics" andsaid, "Hey, I'd like you to take me to your church." They told me about a weekly fellowship they attended andoffered to take me just a couple of days later.That Thursday night I found myself in "The Catacombs." That's what they called it.
             The service was just like that morning prayer meeting at school people had their hands lifted, worshiping the Lord. This time, though, Ijoined right in."Jehovah Jireh, my provider, His grace is sufficient for me," they sang over and over. I liked that song from the first time I heard it and loved it even more when I found out it was written by the pastor's wife, Merla Watson.
            Her husband, Merv, was the shepherd of this most un usual flock.The Catacombs was not a typical church. The people who went there were just an exuberant throng of Christians that met every Thursday night in St. Paul's Cathedral, an Anglican church in downtown Toronto.These were "Jesus Movement" days when the so-called "hippies" were getting saved faster than they could cut their hair. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen a barber's chair either in quite some time.I looked around.
               The place was packed with kids just like me. You should have seen it. They were jumping up and down, dancing and making a joyful noise before the Lord. It was hard for me to believe that a place like that really existed. But somehow, from that very first night, I felt I belonged. "Go Up There"At the conclusion of the meeting, Merv Watson said, "I want all of you who would like to make a public confession of your sin to step forward. We're going to pray with you asyou ask Christ to come into your heart."I began to shiver and shake. But I thought, "I don't think I should go down there because I'm already saved." I knew the Lord took charge of my life at five minutes to eight on Monday morning.
            And this was Thursday.You guessed it. Within seconds I found myself walking down that aisle as fast as I could. I didn't quite know why I did it. But something inside was telling me, "Go up there."It was at that moment, at a charismatic service in an Anglican church, that this good little Catholic from a Greek Orthodox home made a public confession of his acceptanceof Christ. "Jesus," I said, "I'm asking you to be the Lord of my life.
              "The Holy Land couldn't compare with this. How much better to be where Jesus was, than where he used to be.That night when I got home, I was so filled with the presence of the Lord, I decided to tell my mother what had happened. (I didn't have the courage to tell my dad.)"Mama, I've got to share something with you," I whispered. "I've been saved!"In a flash, her jaw was set. She glared and said crisply,"Saved from what?""Trust me," I said. "You'll understand."On Friday morning and all during the day at school, at the kiosk, everywhere I went, a picture kept flashing beforeme. I saw myself preaching.
              It was unthinkable, but I couldn't shake the image. I saw crowds of people. And there I was, wearing a suit, my hair all trimmed and neat,preaching up a storm.That day I found Bob, my "weird" friend who had on ceplastered the kiosk walls with Scripture.
              I shared just a little about what had happened that week. And I told him that I even saw myself preaching."Bob," I said, "all day long it's been like this. I can't shake the picture of me speaking in huge open-air rallies, in stadiums, in churches, in concert halls." Beginning to stutter, I told him, "I see people, as far as the eye can see? I must be losing my mind! What do you think it means?""There can only be one thing," he told me. "God is preparing you for a great ministry. I think it's wonderful.

( "CAST OUT) 

I didn't get that kind of encouragement at home. Of course, I really couldn't tell them what the Lord was doing.The situation was dreadful. ( Humiliation and Shame ) My entire family began to harass and ridicule me. It was horrible. I expected it from my father, but not my mother. When I was growing up, she had showed so much affection. So had my brothers and sisters. But now they treated me with disdain like an intruder who didn't belong. "Tradition! Tradition!" says the song in Fiddler on the Roof. If an Easterner breaks tradition, he has committed an unpardonable sin. I doubt that the West will ever truly understand its seriousness. He brings humiliation upon his family.
              And that can't be forgiven. The family told me, "Benny, you're ruining our family name." They pleaded with me not to dishonor their reputation. My father had been a mayor and he reminded me of it. The family "name" was at stake.Please understand me when I say this, but Greek Orthodox, and people from other Eastern "high" church orders, are perhaps the most difficult people to bring to a"personal" Christianity.When I became a born-again Christian, it was actually shameful to them. Why? Because they believe they are the real Christians.
                And they have the historical documentation to prove it. They have been Christians longer than anyone else.But here is the problem, and I have been raised with it.Their faith is long on form, ritual, and dogma, but short on God's anointing. The power is missing. And as a result,they have virtually no comprehension of what it means to hear from the Lord or to be "led by the Spirit."It became obvious that if I was to remain in my own home, I would have to close the door to conversations about Christ.Nothing, however, could dampen the fire of my newfound faith. I was like a glowing ember that never stopped burning.
             Early in the morning my big Bible was open. The Holy Spirit continued to reveal the Word. But that was not enough. Every night that I could "escape" the house, I was in a church service, youth fellowship, or prayer meeting.And on Thursday nights I was back at The Catacombs.I can never erase from my memory the day I mentioned"Jesus" in our home. My father walked over to me and slapped my face. I felt the pain. No, it wasn't the Jerusalem rock this time. It was a different kind of pain. But the hurt I felt was for my family.
            I loved them so much and agonized for their salvation.Actually, it was my fault. My daddy had warned me,"You mention the name of Jesus just once again, and you'll wish you hadn't." He snarled with hatred as he threatened to kick me out of the house.I began to tell my little sister, Mary, about the Lord.Somehow my dad found out about it, and his anger boiled over again. He forbade me to ever talk to her about spiritualthings.

( Time for the Psychiatrist ) 

Even my brothers persecuted me. They called me everyname under heaven—and a few below the earth. It went on for such a long time. In my room I prayed, "Lord, will it ever end? Will they ever come to know You?"It got to the place where there wasn't a member of my family I could talk to. I didn't have to look up the definition of ostracized. They flew my grandmother over from Israel just to tell me I was crazy. "You are an embarrassment to the family name," she said. "Don't you understand the shame you're causing?"My father made an appointment for me to see apsychiatrist. Evidently Dad thought I had lost my mind.And what was the doctor's conclusion? "Maybe your son is going through something.
               He'll come out of it."His next tactic was to get me a job that would keep me so busy that I wouldn't have time for this "Jesus." He wentto one of his friends and said, "I'd like for you to offer my son, Benny, a job." Daddy drove me to his place and waited in the car while I went in. The man was one of the rudest, roughest, most mean-spirited men I had ever encountered. It was obvious Icouldn't work for such a person.I got back in the car and said, "Father, I could neverhave him for a boss."I actually felt sorry for my dad that day.
               He was at theend of his rope. He said, "Benny, what do you want me to do for you? Tell me what it is. I'll do anything you ask if you'll just please leave this Jesus of yours.""Dad," I said, "you can ask me anything you want, but I would die before I'd give up what I've found."It was an ugly scene. He turned from a friendly father into a sarcastic stranger. All he had to offer was another torrent of hate, another tongue-lashing. For the next year nearly two my father and I had almost no communication.
                At the dinner table he wouldn't look at me. I was totally ignored. It finally became unbearable even to sit down and watch the evening new swith my family.So what did I do? I stayed in my room. But looking back on it, I can see that the Lord knew exactly what Hewas doing. I spent hundreds of hours thousands alone with God. My Bible was always open. I prayed. I studied. I worshiped. I feasted on heavenly manna that I would needin the years to come.

( "I Must Obey the Lord" )

 Getting to church was a gigantic problem. How I longed to go, but my father said, "Absolutely not!" time and timeagain. In fact, those were practically the only conversations we had arguments about the house of the Lord. Easterners consider it unthinkable to disobey parents.But now I was nearly twenty-one. And I vividly recall the night I summoned the boldness to tell my father, "I'll obey you on anything you want, but on the matter of going to church I will not obey you. I must obey the Lord!"He was stunned.
               You'd have thought someone had shothim. And he seemed to bristle even more.Out of respect, I did my best to be obedient. I'd ask him,"Can I go to the meeting tonight?" He'd say no, and I would go to my room and pray, "Please, Lord, please change his mind."Then I'd go back downstairs and ask again. "Can I go?""No," he'd growl. And back up I'd go.Little by little, he began to give in. He knew it was a losing battle.
                The Catacombs rented another building for services on Sunday, and I was right there. Bible studies were on Tuesday and Friday, and a youth meeting on Saturday night. These meetings became my whole life.In the two years after my conversion, my spiritual growth was like a rocket's moving into orbit. By the end of1973 Merv and Merla Watson were inviting me to join them on the platform to help lead in worship and singing.
                But I couldn't speak in public.Jim Poynter, the spirit-filled Free Methodist pastor, had seen me there. And one day he stopped by the kiosk at themall just to talk about the things of the Lord. That's when he invited me to go with him to the Kuhlman meeting in Pittsburgh. My personal encounter with the Holy Spirit after thatmeeting was awesome. But it took a few days for me to realize the dimensions of God's revelation to me. About this same time I changed jobs. I accepted a position as a filing clerk for the Catholic school board in Toronto. I'm sure they wondered about me at times.
               I had a smile on my face just thinking about what God was doing in my life.The minute my work was finished, I went home and rushed upstairs and just started talking to Him. "Oh, HolySpirit, I'm so glad to be back here alone with you." Yes, He was always with me, but my bedroom became a verysacred, special place. Sometimes, when I wasn't working I stayed home all day just having a personal communion with Him. What was I doing? Having fellowship. Fellowship withthe Spirit. And when I wasn't at work or in my room, I triedto get to church.
           But I didn't tell anyone what was happening to me.When I left the house in the morning, He left with me. I actually felt someone beside me. On a bus I'd feel the urge to start talking with Him, but I didn't want people to think I was crazy. Even at work, there were times when I whispered things to Him. At lunch, He was my companion.But day after day, when I got home, I hopped up those stairs, locked the door to my room, and said, "Now we arealone." And my spiritual journey continued.

( Anointing in the Car ) 

Let me explain that many times I wasn't aware of His presence. I knew He was with me, but I became soaccustomed to Him that I did not feel the electricity of those special times.But other people felt it. Many times when my friends came to see me, they began weeping because of thepresence of the Holy Spirit. Once Jim Poynter called to say, "I want to pick you upand take you to a Methodist church where I'm singing. You can sing with me if you'd like." I wasn't really a singer, but I helped him out once in a while. That afternoon I was once again lost in the anointing of God's spirit.
            Then I heard Jim honking the horn. As I ran down the stairs and to the car, I actually felt the Lord's presence running with me.The moment I jumped into the front seat and shut the door, Jim began to weep. He began to sing that chorus,Hallelujah! Hallelujah! He turned to me and said, "Benny,I can feel the Holy Spirit in this car.""Of course His presence is in this car," I said. "Where else would it be?" To me it had become the norm. But Jim could hardly drive.
              He continued to weep before the Lord.Once, my mother was cleaning the hallway while I was in my room talking with the Holy Spirit. When I came out,she was thrown right back. Something had knocked heragainst the wall. I said, "What's wrong with you, Mama?"She answered, "I don't know." Well, the presence of the Lord almost knocked her down. My brothers will tell you of the times they came near me and didn't know what was happening—but they felt something unusual. As time went on I lost my desire just to go out with theyoung people at church to have fun.
            I just wanted to be with the Lord. So often I said, "Lord, I'd rather have this than anything the world can offer." They could have theirgames, their entertainment, their football I just didn't need it."What I want is what I have right now," I told the Lord."Whatever it is, don't let it quit." I began to understand more fully Paul's desire for "the fellowship of the Holy Spirit. ( "Henry, Mary, Sammy, and Willie) Now, even members of my family were asking questions.
              The Spirit of the Lord so permeated our home,that my brothers and sisters began to develop a spiritual hunger.One by one, they came to me and began to ask questions. They'd say, "Benny, I've been watching you.This Jesus is real, isn't He?"My sister Mary gave her heart to the Lord. And within the next few months my little brother Sammy got saved.Then came Willie.All I could do was to shout, "Hallelujah!" It was happening and I had not even begun to preach.By this time my father was nearly ready for an asylum.Was he losing his whole family to this Jesus? He didn't know how to handle it.
           But there was no question that my mom and dad could see the transformation that had already taken place in me, in two of my brothers, and in Mary.When I first gave my life to the Lord, I had some wonderful encounters with Him. But these were nothing compared with my daily walk with the Holy Spirit. Now the Lord really visited my room. The glory would fill that place. Some days I'd be on my knees worshiping the Lord for eight, nine, or ten hours straight.
              The year of 1974 unleashed a never-ending flow of God's power on my life. I'd just say "Good morning, Holy Spirit," and it would start all over again. The glory of the Lord stayed with me. One day in April I thought, "There must be a reason forit." I asked, "Lord, why are you doing all of this for me?" I knew that God doesn't give people spiritual picnics forever.Then as I began to pray, here is what God revealed tome. I saw someone standing in front of me. He was totally in flames, moving uncontrollably; his feet were not touching the ground.
           The mouth of this being was opening and closing like what the Word describes as "gnashing ofteeth."At that moment the Lord spoke to me in an audible voice. He said, "Preach the gospel."My response, of course, was, "But Lord, I can't talk."Two nights later the Lord gave me a second dream. I saw an angel. He had a chain in his hand, attached to a door that seemed to fill the whole heaven. He pulled it open, andthere were people as far as the eye could see. Souls
.               They were all moving toward a large, deep valley and the valley was a roaring inferno of fire.It was frightening. I saw thousands of people falling into that fire. Those on the front lines were trying to fight it,but the crush of humanity behind them pushed them intothe flames. Again, the Lord spoke to me. Very clearly He said, "If you do not preach, everyone who falls will be your responsibility." I knew instantly that everything that happened in my life was for one purpose to preach the gospel. ( It Happened in Oshawa ) The fellowship continued.
              The glory continued. Thepresence of the Lord did not depart; it actually intensified.The Word became more real. My prayer life became more powerful.Finally, in November 1974 I couldn't avoid the subject any longer. I said to the Lord, "I will preach the gospel onone condition: that you will be with me in every service."And then I reminded Him, "Lord, you know that I can't talk." I worried continually about my speech problem and the fact that I was going to embarrass myself.
               It was impossible, however, to erase from my mind the picture of a burning man and the sound of the Lord saying,"If you do not preach, everyone who falls will be your responsibility."I thought, "I must begin to preach." But wouldn't passing out little tracts be good enough? Then one afternoon, the first week of December, I was sitting in thehome of Stan and Shirley Phillips in Oshawa, about thirty miles east of Toronto."Can I tell you something?" I asked.
           Never before had I felt led to tell anyone the full story about my experiences,dreams, and visions. For nearly three hours, I poured outmy heart about things only the Lord and I knew about.Before I had finished, Stanley stopped me and said,"Benny, tonight you must come to our church and share this." They had a fellowship called Shilo about a hundred people at the Trinity Assembly of God in Oshawa.I wish you could have seen me.
                 My hair was down to my shoulders, and I hadn't dressed for church because the invitation had been totally unexpected.But on December 7, 1974, Stan introduced me to the group, and for the first time in my life I stood behind apulpit to preach.The instant I opened my mouth, I felt something touch my tongue and loosen it. It felt like a little numbness, and I began to proclaim God's Word with absolute fluency.Here's what was amazing. God didn't heal me when I was sitting in the audience. He didn't heal me when I was walking up to the platform.
         He didn't heal me when I stood behind the pulpit. God performed the miracle when I opened my mouth.When my tongue loosened, I said, "That's it!" The stuttering was gone. All of it. And it has never returned.Now my parents didn't know I was healed because we had so little communication around the house. And, ofcourse, there had always been times when I could speak without a noticeable problem for a short time before something set the stuttering off again.But I knew I was healed. And my ministry began to mushroom. It seemed as if every day I was invited to a church or fellowship group to minister. I felt in the perfect center of God's Will.

 ( "I'm Going to Die") 

For the next five months I was a preacher, but my mother and father had no inkling. Keeping it quiet for solong was a miracle in itself. My brothers knew, but they didn't dare tell Dad because they knew it would be the end of Benny.In the Toronto Star in April 1975, a newspaper ad with my picture in it appeared.
           I was preaching at a littlepentecostal church on the west side of town, and the pastor wanted to attract some visitors.It worked. Cost andi and Clemence saw the ad.I was sitting on the platform that Sunday night. During the song service I looked up and could hardly believe myeyes. There were my mother and my father being usheredto a seat just a few rows in front of the platform.I thought, "This is it. I'm going to die."My good friend Jim Poynter was seated on the plat form next to me.
            I turned to him and said, "Pray, Jim! Pray!" He was shocked when I told him Mother and Dad were there. A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind, not the least of which was, "Lord, I'll know I'm really healed if I don't stutter tonight." I can't remember another time that Iwas so nervous during a service and anxiety always made me stutter.As I began to preach, the power of God's presence began to flow through me, but I couldn't bring myself tolook in the direction of my parents not even for a fleetingglance. All I knew was that my concern about stuttering was needless. When God healed me, the healing was permanent.
               Toward the end of the service I began praying for those who needed a healing. Oh, the power of God filled thatplace.As the meeting was ending, my parents got up andwalked out the back door.After the service I said to Jim, "You've got to pray. Doyou realize that in the next few hours my destiny will be decided? I may have to sleep at your house tonight."That night I drove aimlessly around Toronto. I wanted to wait until at least two in the morning to get home. By that time I knew my parents would be in bed.I really didn't want to face them. But more about that later.

Chapter-4 ( Person toPerson)

They fail to realize that what happened at Pentecost was only one of the gifts of the Spirit. But what I want you to know is this: beyond salvation, beyond being baptized in water, beyond the infilling of the Spirit, the "third Person of the Trinity" is waiting for you to meet Him personally. He yearns for a lifelong relationship. And that is what you are about to discover.

 DRAWN INTO FELLOWSHIP 

If you had dialed my telephone number two years agoand we got acquainted by phone and if we had continuedour conversations but had never met, what would you reallyknow about me?You say, "I'd know the sound of your voice as it comesthrough the phone." And that would be just about it. Youwouldn't recognize me if you saw me on the street.But then the day comes when we meet face to face. 
                All of a sudden you reach out to shake my hand. You see whatI look like, the color of my hair and eyes, what kind ofclothes I wear. Perhaps we go out for a meal, and you learnwhether I like coffee or tea.You learn volumes about people when you meet themin person. ( End of the Struggle ) When the Holy Spirit and I met, that is what began to happen. I began to discover things about His personality that changed me as a Christian. Salvation transformed meas a person. 
                 But the Spirit had a tremendous effect on my Christian walk. As I began to know the Holy Spirit, I became sensitive to Him and learned what grieves Him and what pleases Him. What He likes, what He doesn't like. What gets Him angry and what makes Him happy. I came to understand that the Bible itself was written by the Holy Spirit. He used men from all walks of life, but every one of them was led by the Spirit. For so long I struggled to understand the Bible. 
              Then came the day that I looked up and said, "Wonderful Holy Spirit. Would you please tell me what you mean by this?"And He spoke. He revealed the Word to me. The Lord used a Kathryn Kuhlman meeting to prepare me for what was about to happen. But never once did Miss Kuhlman sit with me and tell me about the Holy Spirit. Everything I learned was from Him. And that's why it's fresh, why it's new, and why it's mine. When I returned home from that meeting in Pittsburgh, I fell to my knees. I was honest and transparent when I said, "Precious Holy Spirit, I want to know you." I will never forget how nervous I was. But from that day I have grown to know him like a brother. Truly, He is a member of the family. 

 ( WHO HE IS ) 

You ask, "Who is the Holy Spirit?" I want you to know He is the most beautiful, most precious, loveliest person onthe earth. God the Son is not on the earth. They are both in heaven this very second. Who is on earth? God the Holy Spirit. For God the Father came to do His work through the Son who was resurrected. When God the Son departed, God the Holy Spirit came, and He is still here doing His work. Think about it. When God the Son left, he would not even take John and Peter with Him. He said, "Little children, I shall be with you a little while longer. You will seek Me; and as I said to the Jews, 'Where I am going, you cannot come' . . . " (John 13:33).But when God the Holy Spirit leaves, which many believe is going to happen very soon, He's going to take the redeemed of the Lord with Him.
              It is called the Rapture. We will be caught up with Him to meet the Lord in the air. Who is this Holy Spirit? I thought at one time He was like a vapor, something floating around that I could neverreally know. I learned that He is not only real, but that He has a personality. ( What's on the Inside? ) What makes me a person? Is it my physical body? I think not. I'm sure you have been to a funeral and have see na body lying in a casket. Are you looking at a person? No! You are looking at a dead body. 
             You must realize that what makes a person is not the body. Instead, the person is what comes out of the body. Emotions. Will. Intellect. Feelings. These are just a few of the characteristics that make you a person and give you apersonality. People who watch me preach are not looking at Benny Hinn. They are only seeing my body. I am inside my physical body. It is the person inside who is important. The Holy Spirit is a person. And just like you, He canfeel, perceive, and respond. 
               He gets hurt. He has the ability to love and the ability to hate. He speaks, and He has His own will. But exactly who is He? The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of God the Father and the Spirit of God the Son. He is the power of the God head the power of the Trinity. What is his job? The task of the Spirit is to bring into being the commandment of the Father and the performance of the Son. To understand the job of the Holy Spirit we need to understand the work of the Father and the Son. God the Father is the one who gives the command. He has always been the one who says, "Let there be." From the beginning, it has been God who gives the orders. 
              On the other hand, it is God the Son who performs the commands of the Father. When God the Father said, "Let there be light," God the Son came and performed it. Then, God the Holy Spirit brought the light. Let me illustrate it this way. If I asked you, "Please turn on the light," three forces would be involved. First, I would be the one who gave the command. Second, you would be the one who walks to the switch and flips it. In other words, you are the performer of the command. But finally, who brings on the light? It is not me, and it is not you. It is the power the electricity—that produces light. The Holy Spirit is the power of God. He is the power of the Father and of the Son. He is the one who brings into action the performance of the Son. 

 Yet He is a person. Hehas emotions which are expressed in a way unique among the Trinity. I've been asked, "Benny, aren't you forgetting the importance of Christ in all of this?" Never! How could I forget the one who loved and died for me? But some peopleare so focused on the Son that they forget the Father the one who loved them and sent His Son. I cannot forget the Father nor the Son. But I cannot be in touch with the Father and the Son without the Holy Spirit (see Eph. 2:18). 

( FELLOWSHIP ) 

During one of my first encounters with the Holy Spirit I had an experience that moved me to tears. Just as simply asI am talking to you, I asked Him, "What am I supposed todo with You? Would you please tell me what You 're like? "Honestly, I was like a little child trying to learn. And I felt that He would not be angry with my honest questions. ( The Fellowship Meeting ) Here's the answer the Holy Spirit gave: "I am the one who fellowships with you." And like the snap of a finger, that verse flashed before me: "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all" (2 Cor. 13:14). I thought, "That's it! The Holy Spirit is the one who communes, who fellowships with me." Then I asked, "How can I fellowship with You, but not with the Son?" And He responded, "That is exactly as it should be.
                 I am here to help you in your prayers to the Father. And I am here to help you pray to the Son."Immediately, my entire approach to prayer changed. It was as if I had been handed a golden key that unlocked the gates of heaven. From that moment on, I had a personal friend who helped me speak to the Father in Jesus' name. He literally guided me to my knees and made it easy to communicate with the Father. What a fellowship! That is what the Holy Spirit longs for your fellowship! Let me explain. 
                  There are no requests or petitions in fellowship as there are in prayer. If I asked, "Would you please bring me some food?" That's a request. But fellowship is much more personal. "How are you today? Let's have breakfast together!" That's fellowship. Remember, there are no selfish requests in fellowship just friendship, love, and communion. That's how it was with me. I began to wait for the Holy Spirit before I prayed. I would say "Precious Holy Spirit, would you now come and help me to pray?"The Bible says, "Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. 
                  For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. Now He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He makes intercession for the saints according to the will of God" (Rom. 8:26-27).When we don't know what to say He comes to our aid. 
               And here is the next principle I learned. The Holy Spirit is the only teacher of the Bible. "Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might know the things that have been freely given to us by God. These things we also speak, not in words which man's wisdom teaches but which the Holy Spirit teaches, comparing spiritual things with spiritual" (1 Cor. 2:12-13). 

( ACCOMPANIED BY THE SPIRIT) 

From my first encounter with the Holy Spirit, I began to know that He was the great teacher the one who wouldlead me "into all truth." That is why I asked Him, "Would you please tell me what this Scripture means?"But I still wanted to know, "Who are You? And why are You so different?" I would say, "I'd like to know what You are like. 

 ( Gentle yet Powerful ) 

                 Here is what I saw. What He revealed to me was a mighty person and a childlike person at the same time. He said to me, "When you hurt a child he will stay away from you; when you love a child, he will be very close to you."And that is how I began to approach Him. I felt that He was gentle, and yet He is mighty and powerful. Like a child, however, He wants to stay ever so close to those who love Him . Have you ever seen a little boy or a little girl tugging at Mother's skirt or Father's trousers? Wherever the parents go, the kids hang on and follow them. It's a sure sign that the kids are loved and cared for. 
                  That's the way it is with the Holy Spirit. He stays close to those who love Him.How was it possible that the great evangelist Charles Finney could preach the gospel and people would be "slain under the power," confessing their sins? What was the power that fell when John Wesley stood on the tomb stones and opened his mouth to preach? It was the person of the Holy Spirit that accompanied their ministry. In New York City, Kathryn Kuhlman had just finished preaching at a Full Gospel Business Men's convention. 
                   She was taken through the kitchen to an elevator to avoid the crowd. The cooks had no idea a meeting was going on and had never heard of Miss Kuhlman. In their white hats and aprons, the cooks didn't even know she was walking by,and the next thing you know they were flat on the floor.Why? Kathryn didn't pray for them; she just walked. What happened? When she left the meeting it seemed as though the power of His presence attended her. Who is the Holy Spirit? He is the power of the Lord. 
                   That power became most evident to me when I began praying in my room all alone. Day after day, hour after hour, I lifted my hands and said, "Precious Holy Spirit, would You come now and just talk to me?" Where else could I turn? My family was against me. My friends werefew. Only Him. Only the Holy Spirit. There were times when He came in like a wind. Like afresh breeze on a summer day. The joy of the Lord would fill me until I could contain no more. 
                 As we talked I would say, "Holy Spirit, I love You and I long for Your fellowship." And I found out it was mutual. He longed for my fellowship, too. Supper Can Wait! Once, in England, I was staying in the home of aChristian family. My room was at the very top of the house.One evening I was lost in the Spirit, having the greatest time in the world talking to Him. 
                The woman of the house called up, "Benny, supper is ready."But I was bubbling over and didn't want to leave. She called again, "Supper is ready." And as I was about to leave, I felt someone take my hand and say, "Five more minutes. Just five more minutes." The Holy Spirit longed for my fellowship.You ask, "What did you talk about?" I asked Him questions. For example, one day I asked, "How can you be distinct from the Father and the Son?" And instantly He showed meStephen being stoned and He said to me, "Stephen saw theFather and the Son and I was in him." Three distinct individuals.
            The Holy Spirit was the one who gave Stephen the power to endure the suffering. Jesus was the one waiting for his coming. And the Father was the one who sat on the throne. You can read about it in Acts 7:54-56.And the Holy Spirit showed me more. He was the one who gave Moses the power to be the deliverer of the children of Israel. He was the power in the life of Joshua. He was the force behind the wind that divided the Red Sea.
               He was the mighty power that smashed the walls of Jericho. He was the energy behind David's rock when Goliath fell.The Holy Spirit. He was the force in the life of Samuel, in Elijah and in Christ the Lord. Jesus was a total man, yet the Scripture is clear that He would not move without the Holy Spirit. He would not preach without the Holy Spirit. He would not lay his hands on the sick without the Holy Spirit. "The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me," He said, as He began His ministry, "because he has anointed Me to preach the gospel. . . " (Luke 4:18).What happened when Jesus returned to the Father? Suddenly the disciples were in such fellowship with the Spirit that their entire vocabulary changed. 
              They began to say that "the Holy Spirit and us" were witnesses of His resurrection. He became a part of every action of their life. They were in total fellowship working together for the Son.What was it in the life of the Apostle Paul that gave him the power to endure? And what was it in the life of Peter that even his shadow would heal the sick? It was the touch of the Spirit. David Wilkerson speaks about going to see a woman of God named Mother Basilea Schlink. He said that the moment he entered the room he could feel the presence ofthe Lord. Why? Because she loved the Holy Spirit. And those who love Him know His presence.

 ( Do You Recognize That Voice? )

                   When Jesus was on the earth and the disciples had a problem, to whom did they turn? They went to the Son and asked, "What should we do?" And He instructed them. But when Christ returned to the Father, they were not left alone.Jesus said to them, "The Holy Spirit will guide you. He will comfort you. He will counsel you and will remind you of things I have told you. He will tell you about me."Peter and John were now saying, "Wonderful Holy Spirit." Paul spoke of His "fellowship."After Peter had his vision on the rooftop of Simon the Tanner's home in Joppa, "the Spirit said to him . . . 'three men are seeking you. 
                      Arise therefore, go down and go with them, doubting nothing; for I have sent them'" (Acts10:19-20).Peter recognized the voice of the Holy Spirit. And that was the beginning of the gospel being preached to the gentiles. How was the Ethiopian eunuch converted? "The Spirit said to Philip, 'Go near and overtake this chariot'" (Acts8:29). Philip recognized the voice of the Holy Spirit. It wasn't God the Father that spoke to him nor God the Son.
                       It was God the Holy Spirit. He is a person with a will, and that moment He was doing the work of the Father. I believe the greatest sin against the Holy Spirit is grieving him,which amounts to denying His power and presence. Nowhere in Scripture can you find the words "Grieve not God the Father" or "Grieve not God the Son." But throughout the Bible you find "Grieve not the Spirit."God said to the children of Israel in the wilderness,"You have vexed my Spirit." He didn't say, "You have grieved me." God the Son looked at the Pharisees and said, anyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man, it willbe forgiven him; but to him who blasphemes against theHoly Spirit, it will not be forgiven" (Luke 12:10).The person of the Holy Spirit is distinct in the Godhead.
                      He is tender. He is sensitive. But because Jesus gave Him to you and to me, He is not going to leave us. The Holy Spirit is a gentleman. He doesn't enter your room until you invite Him. He doesn't sit down until you ask Him. And He doesn't speak to you until you speak to Him. How long will He wait? Until you speak to Him. It could be months even years. He will just wait and wait and wait. My friend, you will never know His power; you will never know His presence until you go and sit beside Him and say, "Wonderful Holy Spirit, tell me all aboutJesus. ( "I Could Hardly Hold the Phone;) After finishing a radio talk show in Florida, the woman who interviewed me said, "Benny, I've been a Christian fora long time, but something is missing in my life.""What are you hungry for?" I asked. 
                      She said, "I need the reality of God in my life."I asked her if she knew God the Holy Spirit. "I know Jesus," she said."The Holy Spirit is a person," I told her. "How would I feel if you were sitting here ignoring me? When we meet, Iexpect you to talk with me. And that's the way it is with the Holy Spirit.""I've never thought of it that way," she said. "When you are alone tonight, talk to Him," I said. "It's as simple as that." I knew she would find the reality she was seeking. "What about Jesus?" she asked. I told her, "Just sit there and wait for Him; He is the one who glorifies Jesus. No, you are not forgetting Jesus. 
                    After all, it was Christ that gave you the Holy Spirit. Just do what Jesus said."The next day I received a phone call from the most excited talk show host you could imagine. "Do you know what happened to me last night?" she asked, talking so fast I had to slow her down. "Benny, the Holy Spirit spoke to me."What she said made me tingle all over. I could hardly hold the phone. She began to cry as she told me the Holy Spirit said to her, "I have searched the world over and there is no one like Jesus." And she told me of the words she heard: "Come, Lord Jesus. Come, Lord Jesus."Immediately I was reminded of the words, "The Spirit and the bride say, 'Come'" (Rev. 22:17).
                        Here is one of the most important lessons I have learned. A person who knows the presence of the Holy Spirit will always glorify and magnify Jesus. When you really know the Spirit, you will glorify Jesus Christ the Son of God because the Holy Spirit within you will glorify God the Son. It's automatic. Only Jesus is glorified in a life that's filled with the Spirit. Every action of your life reflects what you fill your life with. If you fill your life with newspapers, you will speak news. If you watch soap operas, you will speak soap operas. 
               But if you are filled with the Spirit and you absorb Your self in His presence, you will seek Jesus and glorify noo ne but Jesus. If God the Father and God the Son demonstrated theirlove for the Holy Spirit, how can we do less?God loved Him so much that He chastised the children of Israel for their disobedience: "But they rebelled and grieved His Holy Spirit; /So He turned Himself against them as an enemy" (Isa. 63:10). God would not allow asacrifice nor even the prayers of Moses to supply forgiveness for sinning against the Holy Spirit.

 ( The High Cost of Lying) 

               The experience of Ananias and Sapphira makes clear what will happen to people who disregard the Spirit. The couple sold a piece of property and only gave a small portion of what belonged to God. Peter said, "Ananias, why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit?" (Acts5:3). Ananias died instantly. A few hours later his wife rushed up and Peter asked, "Tell me, is this the price youand Ananias got for the land?""Yes," she said, "that is the price." Peter said to her,"' How is it that you have agreed together to test the Spirit of the Lord? Look, the feet of those who have buried your husband are at the door, and they will carry you out.' Then immediately she fell down at his feet and breathed her last" (Acts 5:7-10).Sin against the Spirit is dangerous. 
                  If you don't understand the works of the Spirit, don't talk about them; it is better to keep quiet. In my own services I pray that everything I do will be in His perfect will. The Holy Spirit is the one who called me, and He is the one who controls my meetings. In other words, He's the boss of the service.You need to ask Him to take charge of your life too. Why? Because He's the one that was sent to be with you and in you forever. You can know Him and have fellowship with Him. And the more you commune with Him, the greater Jesus becomes. And the lovelier Christ becomes. Because everything He talks about is Jesus.
                    Christ said, "When the Helper comes, whom I shall send toyou from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, He will testify of Me" (John 15:26).So if I want to know about Jesus, I must go to the Holy Spirit. Jesus said it. And He knew what He was talking about. In the Old Testament, Moses could go to the Father. In the New Testament, the disciples could talk to the Son. But when you and I have a need, where should we turn? To the Holy Spirit. He is a person, and He is waiting right now for you to welcome Him into your life. By seeking His presence you will discover the secret of the great men and women of God. David said, "Do not cast me away from Your presence, And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me" (Ps. 51:11). 
                 He knew too well what happened when the Spirit left Saul.Paul told us to walk in the Spirit, live in the Spirit, pray in the Spirit. Peter and Philip spoke to Him. And so did Christ. It's Time to Begin; You ask, "How do I begin?" It's really very simple. You might start by saying, "Holy Spirit, help me pray now."That's exactly what He wants you to do. The Bible says He prays for you "with groanings that cannot be uttered." And when you begin you will feel your burden being lifted.You'll have a prayer partner who will lead you straight to the throne of God. The Holy Spirit is such a lovely person. 
              He wants to be your dearest friend, and He is waiting to bring you closer to Jesus. Christ said, "If I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you; but if I depart, I will send Him to you" (John16:7). Then He said the Holy Spirit "will guide you into all truth" and will "glorify Me, for He will take of what is Mine and declare it to you" (John 16:13-14). And not only that—He'll prepare you for the coming of the Lord so that when the Rapture takes place, you'll be ready. The Holy Spirit is waiting. He wants you to begin a new relationship person to person.