Posted in #Doctrines of Demons, author, Tekoa Manning, TM

Free Chapter of Doctrines of Demons

Chapter 3

A Matter of Understanding

I will never forget receiving a call from my pastor. His voice was urgent; he needed me to drive over to the church as soon as possible. A woman tormented by evil spirits was on her way, accompanied by her husband, and the pastor was requesting my help to pray over her. I remember feeling so helpless and so inadequate. I told the Father on the way there that He would have to take over. Yes, He would have to give me discernment and wisdom concerning this woman.

I can still picture her face and her tears. She seemed so fearful and tormented. Her body was shaking as she told stories of how she couldn’t even say the name Jesus. I listened as she tried to enunciate each syllable, and her eyes were wild looking. She had tried to read her Bible the night before but couldn’t speak the words. Something was controlling her and causing her to feel as if she was being strangled in her sleep. There were bruises on her arms and places that looked red.

After praying over her, the pastor left the room to get some paperwork for her to fill out. In that second, the Holy Spirit quickened me, “Tekoa, take her hand and cast out the spirit of death.” I immediately did what I was instructed to do and prayed for more spirits to leave. As I prayed, I really didn’t feel anything or understand totally what the Father was doing.

The next morning, this woman called me on the phone. She said, “Tekoa, I know that you are unaware of this, but I have been contemplating suicide for months. I already had it all planned out. I even went and bought a dress to be buried in. It’s hanging in my closet. I have cut my wrist repeatedly, and I have a bottle of sleeping pills I was going to take. Every night I am tormented by this demon and cannot sleep, but last night after you prayed for me, I had the most peaceful sleep. I have no desire now to take my life.” As she continued, her voice elated with new hope brought me to tears. I was so humbled the Father had used me to minister to her. Keep in mind, this was before I knew the name of Jesus as Yeshua, and it was before I knew the Father’s ‘sacred’ Name. But our Father is close to us who have a sincere heart, and He loves to bring deliverance. Isn’t it more about how we honor Him and His Great Name by being obedient?

Whatever prayer I prayed the day before had enough TNT behind it to send that demon of death packing and fleeing. To Adonai be the glory! This was just one spirit, and it was a spirit of death, but how many spirits are there, and is Satan the one who sends them?

I became strangely interested in one type of spirit in the Bible called a “lying spirit.” This spirit could enter into a prophet or a priest, and this spirit called Lying had a voice, and that voice spoke to the Father just as you and I speak to Him:

And there came forth a spirit and stood before the Lord, and said, I will persuade him. And the Lord said unto him, wherewith? And he said I will go forth, and I will be a lying spirit in the mouth of all His prophets. And he said, Thou shalt persuade him, and prevail also: Go forth and do so.

–I Kings 22:21-22, KJV

After reading this and other scriptures, I wondered why I had never heard a preacher or teacher discuss the spirits Adonai sent to torment people in His Word. God would never do that, right?

For clarity:

And if the prophet be deceived when he hath spoken a thing, I the Lord have deceived that prophet, and I will stretch out my hand upon him, and will destroy him from the midst of my people Israel.

–Ezekiel 14:9, KJV

This is a revelation and an eye-opener. There are more astounding passages to be found on this issue, for example: “For this cause God shall send them strong delusion so that they should believe a lie” (II Thessalonians 2:11, KJV).

Strong’s 4397 is ‘Malak’ and is the word for messenger. This word translated as angel represents both human and spiritual, as in the form of angels. Most of the time, when the Hebrew word mal’lakh, or the Greek word aggelos, are used; they are referring to human messengers but can even be representing the covenant and the Father. The next verse depicts men as messengers or angels, but we can’t be sure which:

Jacob went on his way, and the angels (mal’lakh) of God met him; and when Jacob saw them, he said, “This is God’s army!” So he called the name of that place Mahanaim. And Jacob sent messengers (mal’lakh) before him to Esau his brother in the land of Seir, the country of Edom.

–Genesis 32:1-3, RSV

The Father sends warring angels. “He cast upon them the fierceness of his anger, wrath, and indignation, and trouble, by sending evil angels among them” (Psalm 78:49, KJV). Who sent the evil (destroying) angels? Wasn’t it Satan? No! It was Adonai who sent them upon the Egyptians. Listen closely about more messengers that Adonai sent: “But the spirit of the Father departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Father troubled him. And Saul’s servants said unto him, Behold now, an evil spirit from God troubleth thee” (I Samuel 16:14-15 KJV). According to these scriptures, HaShem sent warrior spirits, lying spirits, and spirits to deceive whomever He pleased. He is the Creator of all:

And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took a harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.

—I Samuel 16:23, KJV

We see that this evil spirit could come and go as it pleased. David had the ability to bring Saul out of sickness and exhaustion to a state of refreshment. Both stories have one thing in common; the lying spirits and the evil spirits were sent from the Father. Let’s study this closer.

Judges 9:23 says, “Then God sent an evil spirit between Abimelech and the men of Shechem; and the men of Shechem dealt treacherously with Abimelech…” (NASB). It sounds like Adonai is in control of more spirits than we know. How do you cast out a spirit Adonai sent? What if the Father wants you to have a spirit?

The apostle Paul said it best:

And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure. For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.

–II Corinthians 12:7-9, KJV

Paul tried three times to do self-deliverance, and nothing happened. Isn’t this the Paul who was so anointed, his apron cloths healed people?

Reading on:

And God wrought special miracles by the hands of Paul: So that from his body were brought unto the sick handkerchiefs or aprons, and the diseases departed from them, and the evil spirits went out of them.

–Acts 19:11-12, KJV

But what did Adonai say to Paul after He had sent him a messenger from Satan to buffet him?

And he said unto Paul, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

–II Corinthians 12:7-9, KJV

When you think about this, clearly you can see Satan would want Paul to become exalted above measure. He would want him puffed up and filled with pride. Many believe his weakness may have been his eyesight. He was blinded for three days and later healed. Many of his letters suggest this might have been his thorn. “See with what large letters I am writing to you with my own hand” (Galatians 6:11, NASB). Then the apostle Paul went on to explain that he had a physical ailment:

But you know that it was because of a bodily illness that I preached the gospel to you the first time; and that which was a trial to you in my bodily condition you did not despise or loathe, but you received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus Himself. Where then is that sense of blessing you had? For I bear you witness that, if possible, you would have plucked out your eyes and given them to me.

–Galatians 4:13-15, NASB

We see unmistakably that the Father and His Son are in control of many things we do not always understand:

Who is gone into heaven and is on the right hand of God; angels and authorities and powers being made subject unto Him.

—I Peter 3:22, KJV

We will cover more on why Adonai sends spirits at times in a later chapter. But next, we will look at a doctrine that crept into the church at some point during the faith movement. The origins of its entering are not what’s important but whether it’s truth or not. This doctrine is called “A transference of spirits.”

demon book cover

Posted in author, poetry, Tekoa Manning, TM

Hate is?

blog hate

Hate is like a piece of yeast.
It permeates and puffs up with satisfaction
It says, “I am right!”
I hold truth!
I carry all knowledge!
I will rebuke!
It wipes its mouth with a napkin
And still the juice runs
Hate dripping off chins
Spilling over into diaper bins
And storefront shelves
Magazine covers,
Fake news
Hatred from the SAME WOMB.

What words will we choose?
And engulf in flames
A big ball of detestation

Hate picks apart a man born of a woman
It pins labels neatly on their chest
Or even discusses the cup size of her breast

Hate inspects with microscopes
And pulls apart the chambers of one’s heart
And looks for dirt
It gladly finds a few choice particles and cries
And holds it in its fist
Towards the one who created the dust and says,
See what I found
As if Yah could not see the grease and sludge pumping through our wings

Hate never brushes its teeth.
It calls throughout the streets
Looking for flaws in people

She’s too skinny
Too white
Too black
Too blue
Too conservative
Too liberal
That dress won’t do

New age
Ignorance is bliss
You Baptist
You Messianic
You Stinkin

You Muslim
You Kabbalist
You Whore
You Bastard
You Pompous

Hate is a Parade
Noisy and loud
Marching proudly down streets
Getting the attention of everyone it meets
Hate invites us to wear white
And enter buildings where good people go
As we stretch out our pocketbooks on the front row

Hate is quiet
It’s silence during a time of applause
It can’t stand or clap for those whom it hates
It can’t even acknowledge
A floral bouquet
Why is that?
Might the one we hate smell better than our scented stew?
Oh hate, please take a look at YOU!
Might their floral arrangement
With more color
More fragrance
More honey
Oh, hate let love bring you to your knees!

Hate will try and cover the good that we do
Hate twists its lips while it shifts with its eyes
Hate acts as if it has nothing to hide

Hate passes the poor in the poverty rich streets
And whispers I am better than thee
They did it to themselves
It’s their own damn fault
And hate tightens its purse
Its wallet won’t belch
It wraps its wool scarf around its stiff proud neck

Hate cannot waste even a dribble of spit
It doesn’t even move its teeth
To celebrate
Another’s life
It loves jealousy,
and strife

Hate has seeped into our pores
Even in the silence
It snores
Loudly in the stillness
Hovering in the dark
Hate cringes at one single scented spark
Of love

It whispers words
Green tainted
Soaked into our walls
Encased with Leprosy
As hearts are searching for one
And splatter across the front page
And why?
For the sake of making us taller?
Than thou?
As if we had all the answers
Like Job’s best friends
As if we could enunciate His Name
And pretend
To have His
Dust on our shoes
As if we were the one who ran to the tomb
On resurrection morning

Hate invites
It makes a request
Come, join in the gossip
The ‘those people’ salute
No, I think I’ll pass this time
I’m going to the juke
I’ll Smoke another cigar
Pray with a sinner at the bar
For the hatred has spread even among the ones
You and me!
And when we bow in front of heaven
And we smile, and we say
I am not like them
I am better, you see?
More righteous
More holy
More pure
And our lips part to utter

Floating up
Laced with snuff
A Lingering
Garbage dump of
Words shut up in our bones

Let us stop
May we
Inspect our own fruit
May we inspect our love?
And the weight thereof
Weighing it against the hate that’s still pumping through our veins
And wash
And submerge
In the waters of the muddy Jordon
And allow Him to scrub us clean
And echo His Words
The one who bled and died
The wombs that ever came forth
And inhaled Eden
Or crossed the Reed Sea
And left Egypt for a mouth
Flowing with milk
And honey!

Oh, Love come and save us from our lips,

And burst forth like the light of Sabbath rising over the hills.

into our parched hungry souls.

Help us to become




Posted in author, contest, poetry, Tekoa Manning, TM

Candy Apple Leaves

Yellowed candy apple leaves floated down the skies and melted into the grassy brown earth.
The wind sang in her ears.
It shrieked with delight, whipping and twirling more leaves, causing them to dance a forceful Allegro!
The sun crackled from a fire on the horizon, and her heart drank in winter like a warm chimney puffing softly in the folded hills that seemed to request snow.
Their bareness needed a covering.
Who made a storehouse for the snow?
It was the same one who opened the water spouts.
The same one who filled the womb.
His breath had filled everything with LIFE, and He was tossing up dead leaves to the wind.
She wrapped the scarf around her cheeks and felt guilty for loving the sandy beaches that left the soles of her feet as warm as her heart that burst at the sound of the ocean’s voice, which was louder and grander than the greatest sound she had ever heard– minus the cries of her son’s taking their first breaths.
He was born in November and tossed with gold. A grandson named Truth.
Such wonders untold.
Holding life in the palms of her hands.
Letting go of dead things.
Sweeping leaves up from her floor into heaps to burn.
Watching the faces of her son’s dream a dream, and seeing it come forth from the bitter bare hills of nothing.
Could something so warm be born in the month of Cheshvan?
Could a flood of water pour over her and her seed?
Although her legs felt like dead trunks, suddenly, she could leap like a prima donna assoluta.
The sky opened its gates, and the birds all gathered in place.
They were as white as the snow that had started to fall in a steady rhythm.
The sound of stringed instruments and a fragrance of cassia, myrrh, and cinnamon bark dripped from the trees, and they began to bud with new leaves in the midst of winter.
Almond buds like cherry tree blossoms weighted down the arms of the trees, and she glided ever so softly into His hand, and He carried her to a quiet place.
“Rest my child,” He said, and this time she was obedient and did.

leaf yellowleaf

BOOK REVIEW: Walter – The Homeless Man by Tekoa Manning Best Blog India!

BOOK REVIEW: Walter – The Homeless Man by Tekoa Manning
November 2, 2017
@amanhimself  Link for Review

Walter Cover Final

Pages: 512, Paperback
Published: 2013 by It’s All about Him, Inc.
Cover Rating: 4/5

I am glad I got the chance to read this exceptional work. It is a wonderful feeling for a reader to read a book that has a strong on going plot with mature and very well build characters. This quality to be expressed in the form of writing is rare, and Manning has displayed this through her novel.

Walter: The Homeless Man is a story about a man in the sixties who has suffered a loss and is trying to avoid the pain that came afterward. He is on the run in a different town where he sleeps under the stars and in the day, breaks into a young widow’s home for shelter. Unknown to him, his routine touches every life in that home changes the course of their lives. A misunderstanding that is displayed in a fruitful manner starts another journey for Walter, that changes him for the good.

The plot of this book is smooth that possess a series of events happening one after the other in a manner of completing the puzzle. The theme touches include integrity of man, forgiveness, and redemption. The plot revolves around our protagonist, Walter but the two subplots that meet at a point do take a massive space inside the book. I like the way the author has entwined characters with plots and forming a perfect ending to the book. The plot has steady pace that grows further, and a reader would be able to finish this book into time. I was hooked by the plot, the characters, and the writing style, and regardless of its length, I did manage to finish it in two sittings.

The characters will take you on a journey and will make you feel and realize the themes I mentioned earlier this book covers. They are so realistic and developed without any complexity. Every character has something to show a reader how humane they are. This simple manner of developing strong characters did astonish me. Even more, often times a reader will find that these characters drive the plot forward. The narrative voice is good, and the dialogue formation is flawless.

The writing style smooth and simple and understandable. The author does try to let lose her characters at some point in time in the book, and it seems these characters have their own destiny and are controlled by it. I like the way she writes in a flow that seems satisfying for a reader like me to enjoy. I recommend this book to any reader who wants to enjoy a well-written book.

4 out of 5!


Posted in author, poetry, Tekoa Manning, TM

Son’s of Thunder!

the men

I have three sons of thunder,
Sons of lightning, sons of fame.
I have three sons who live in a box on the corner begging for change.
They play trashcan drums and acoustic guitars.
They sing in the churches, and they sing in the bars.
They rise sturdy with strength like Samson.
They have arms of steel and hearts of flames.
They have eyes of knowledge from carrying much pain.
One is a prophet, the other a priest, and one will inherit the pen of my ink.
One’s hearts is like Jeremiah,
One’s heart is like Amos,
And one’s heart is a broken stallion on a ride to Venus.
One’s telescope can see all of Jupiter’s rings.
The other has a tongue that can polish anything.
One’s eyes are so childlike and gentle to behold.
One holds a Master’s in geology stones.
One’s a poet; one’s a plumber, the other one’s a thief,
Stealing the others thunder every opportunity he meets.
One’s a gamer; one’s a golfer, one’s a runner pounding cement.
One’s a tailor; one’s a sailor, one’s trying to pay the rent.
One’s a fisherman; one’s a comedian, and the other a Seer for the king.
One’s a prophet; one’s a preacher, one wears a golden ring.
I have three sons of thunder, and they’ll rise to heaven’s throne.
They’ll storm the gates of hell,
And they’ll run the race steadfast.
No matter how things look right now,
The past is but the past.
HaShem of heaven’s armies will notice their zeal,
Like Hercules, they’ll run,
Like Solomon, they’ll build!
With wisdom and knowledge, they’ll cloak peace upon their backs.
Like David with his sling, they’ll crush every giant that attacks.
I have three sons who live in a box on the corner begging for change.
They play trashcan drums and acoustic guitars.
They sing in the churches, and they sing in the bars.
They fly through the air and sail through the seas,
I have three sons of thunder, and I’m as proud as I can be!

Posted in author, Tekoa Manning, TM

Author of the Month of April


I’m so honored to feature my husband, Jeff Manning, as this month’s author of the month. He, of course, is my favorite author showcased so far! This story is one that will cause you to grab the kleenex but in a good way.

At the request of my beloved wife and best friend, I would like to share a walk down memory lane with you. It’s one of those memories that’s like a tapestry, our heavenly Father weaving a beautiful quilt and me honored to be a part of it. As I start this second sentence, there are already tears in my eyes just thinking about the goodness of our Abba Father and how intricate His details are. I hope this message blesses you.
About a week ago, my Father, Danny Manning, called me and asked how long it had been since an article had been published in the Metro section of the newspaper featuring a little boy named Colby and me. Colby was a cancer patient at Kosair Children’s Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky. As we talked, it was hard for us to believe that it had been over fifteen years since the publication. Weeks prior, my wife had gone through some of my old pictures and plaques to place in our office, and she had pulled the framed article out to hang above my desk.
As dad and I continued to talk, he let me know that the Kosair Children’s Hospital Foundation had called and wanted him to come and take a tour. He wanted to see if I would accompany him. The hospital wanted to show my dad all the updates they had made since he had been faithfully giving monthly for all these years. What a blessing to have parents that are such givers!
About a week before this phone conversation with my father, some friends of my wife and I, Shawn & Anna Dolphin, were over to the house for a Shabbat when this article on the office wall initiated the testimony I’m about to share with you. Again, tears were shed.
It all started months after I decided to rededicate my life in the mid-1990’s. Following a service at church, a lady came up to me and told me that she had a word for me from the Father. She went on to say to me that God had a plan for me to head up a ministry. She said I would be ministering to many men and for me to get spiritually prepared. I thanked her and then thought, “This lady is crazy! I am trying to get my own life straight, and now I am going to be involved in ministry? Yea, right lady!”
Well, our Father does work in mysterious ways, and I came to realize that the lady in question wasn’t crazy. Within a year, me and two other brothers in Christ, Donnie Chambers, and Todd Brimm, started the Shield of Faith Christian Police Officers Association. This is an entire testimony in itself and would take another article or two to write about. However, one facet of the ministry started about a year later when we received a call from a Crimes Against Children Detective about a young child at Kosair Children’s Hospital that would forever change our lives.
To our astonishment, a seven-year-old boy who, along with his mother, had been traveling with the circus had grabbed a live wire that burned off three of his little fingers. The shocking part was that his mother abandoned him at the hospital with only the clothes on his back and left with the circus, never to return. We were asked to step in. What could we do? A group of us nervously went and befriended this child, seeing him daily and bringing him clothes and toys. We could tell he hadn’t had the best of upbringings due to his choice of language at times. We did about all we could do and tried to shower him with our Father’s love and prayers of protection.
I will never forget the day I received the call from the hospital asking me to come down and be with this child as they took his bandages off completely. He was going to see his hand for the first time after the surgeries. They were worried about this being traumatic and wanted his new friends to be there with him for support. I grabbed a co-worker, Tony Denham, who was also a member of the Shield of Faith, and we headed down to the hospital. I will never forget holding this child down as he screamed while they took off the bandages. Boy, was this kid resilient! In a couple of minutes, he was fine and ready to play. Tony and I drove back to headquarters in silence with the previous events being replayed in our heads. Simultaneously, we both started talking about how in the world a mother could leave their child to go through something like that all by themselves. I am thankful that this story ended well. The little boy who was abandoned ended up being adopted by a good family and moving on to a new life. Praise the Lord Adonai!
Soon after this, Dr. Steve Wright, the Medical Director of Kosair Children’s Hospital, approached us about the possibility of visiting some of the children on a regular basis. I remember our first meeting, where we were instructed about the do’s and don’ts of what to say and not to say. How fragile some of the situations were. We began to realize that the primary place we were going was to the children’s unit in the cancer ward. Talk about having second thoughts! Fear began to rear its ugly head. I was nervous but felt like this was of God, and so did my brothers and sisters of the Shield of Faith.
I remember being nervous as anything as we went into the first room of the cancer unit. There was this chubby little boy introduced to us as Colby. He had no hair from the chemo treatments but a smile that lit up the room. This little fellow sat up in his bed and spoke with a country twang I will never forget. I remember thinking about all the do’s and don’ts and thought, “What would be a safe question for Colby?” So I asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” He thought for a split second and said, “I want to be a Preacher.” At that very moment, I knew that the Father himself had sent us to do this work. I didn’t know that Colby indeed would preach a message to me and others that no spiritual leader ever has.
Over the next couple of years, Colby and I developed a God-ordained relationship that I will forever cherish. We began to visit the Hospital once a week on Wednesdays, and very seldom did we miss. The children always looked forward to the Police showing up in their uniforms and coming to see them. All the kids had a soft spot in our hearts, but Colby was super special. No matter how much he was hurting, he always made it a point to make our day more special than we ever made his.
He lived at the hospital due to his condition. During Christmas in 1999, Colby was allowed to go home to Casey County, KY, to be with family. They contacted me and asked if I could usher him back to the hospital after his visit due to the family having some problems. This was a two-hour drive, and Donnie Chambers and a couple of others accompanied me. We couldn’t pass up the chance to surprise Colby with some presents. I bring this point up due to the attached article that was in the newspaper. In this article’s photo, there is a picture of me and Colby where I am cracking up. He had just reminded me of how bad a driver I was because he got car sick on the drive back to the hospital. Ha! Yes, he was a character.
In reference to the attached article, we were approached by the Hospital and the Courier-Journal requesting to join us during one of our visits. Out of all the rooms and all the children, they chose Colby to share in the article. Yes, He was that special.
From that article alone, we started getting a plethora of donations. Not just money, but toys, including police wagons to carry everything around on. Another article was done in the Southeast Outlook about Colby getting baptized in the hospital’s burn unit. Yes, he was spreading the gospel and becoming more of a preacher than I ever dreamed of being. He continued to touch everybody he came in contact with, and especially me.
One day I got the call nobody ever wants to hear. Colby didn’t have long, and he wanted to see me. During the visit, I couldn’t get over how brave he was. He asked me if he could be buried with my police handcuffs. What an honor. I remember handcuffing him and me together and letting his family take a picture of us. Two days later, I was called to his bedside, where he took his last breath minutes before I arrived.
I’m proud to say that the Chief at the time, Gene Sherrard, of the Louisville Police Department, allowed us to take a brand new police car to escort Colby home to Casey County, KY. Along with that, he allowed the Shield of Faith Officers to be his Pallbearers and to play taps with the bugle. I had the honor and privilege of speaking at Colby’s funeral and placing my cuffs into his casket. This kind soul wanted to preach the gospel, and he did it better than any man I’ve seen yet.
One thing I will never forget was when we arrived at the cemetery, and we got out of our cars and were close to starting the service. A Donkey came over to the fence, made the loudest noises, and carried on for a couple of minutes. I remember the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. I remember thinking at that very moment that braying was for Colby. After the service, two other officers that were with us said the exact same thing; the same thought had come to them. The donkey was brought up several times on our ride home, and it also reminded me of the humble donkey Jesus-Yeshua rode in on and the fact that our Father used a donkey to speak.
For five years, I had the honor of meeting and making many friends at Kosair. Again, several of these children went on to be with the Lord Adonai, and others received miracles. The toys continued to pour in due to Colby, and I am proud to say that off and on for the past sixteen years, officers of the Shield of Faith have continued to make these visits, as well as my faithful dad.
Yes, I believe Colby was a Preacher and ministered to many unknowingly. I also know that only God could have taken the broken man I was, who was just trying to get my life back on track and place my feet on a path that would connect me with a little ole country boy that would forever change my life.
I want to take this opportunity to thank the ones that indeed are the angels at these children’s hospitals. I want to commend the doctors and especially the nurses who are there every day, caring for and comforting not only the children but the families also. I pray many blessings and much comfort over these angels as they deal day in and day out with some of their new friends suffering and some passing away.

Jeff Manning

:The picture above shows Colby and I handcuffed. It was taken two days before he passed away.

Posted in author, Memoir, Tekoa Manning, TekoaManning, TM

Enjoy Chapter One Of My Memoir

Chapter 1

He Will Cause you to Serve Him


My mother was urging me. “Go stand in the line, Bonnie, hurry!” I turned and looked back at the many people, young and old, waiting.
It was the late 1970’s, and I was wearing a long maxi dress. The brightly colored flowers were bursting forth at the seams, and my sandals had large buckled squares that draped across my ankles. My hair was sapling bark brown, straight, and hanging down my back mid-way. In the summer, it was glossy satin but come winter, a stringy static mess. I was a young girl, preteen or just above that, and utterly naïve of my own beauty or worth. I was self-conscious, scared, and a tad pigeon-toed.
The line was now draped around the church’s outer wall, lingering on towards the back doors of the sanctuary.
The excitement in my mother’s voice was charged.
“Bonnie, go get in line and see what he tells you! ‘He’ being the prophetic evangelist that was visiting our church. ‘He’ who apparently had a direct line to the Creator of all.
Again my mother exclaimed, “Go on. He is very gifted and just told me many things only God would have known. I want to see what he tells you.”
I never liked being in the spotlight and shied away from the front of the sanctuary. Certain people had a habit of frightening me as a young child. They sang in languages I had never heard of and spoke in unknown tongues. No one had educated me on the tongues of angels and men.
Upfront stood the pastor, the elders, and the catchers. I knew what the catcher’s job entailed. Catchers were the people that stood behind you in case you fell under the power of the Ruach Holy Spirit. They draped cloths over the women’s dresses after they had floated backward–just in case anything might be exposed that shouldn’t be.
My mother always fell.
She said, “They just barely have to touch me Bonnie, and I go down.” As if this signified some level of holiness. She assured me that it didn’t hurt and felt as if she had landed on cotton. “Honest Bonnie, it doesn’t hurt at all. It’s the most wonderful experience!” Her eyes twinkled with excitement. I nodded–still unsure of my quest for significance. Did I really want to feel this Holy Set-Apart Spirit, and was this really what they were feeling? I knew what I personally felt but wasn’t quite sure it was the same. Unknowingly, this, along with many other quizzical moments, would one day cause me to study doctrine with binocular vision.
I headed to the back of the line that was becoming shorter and nervously sighed. I secretly hoped I wouldn’t fall on the floor to be draped in a black cloth while onlookers gawked. What if I became stuck there crying uncontrollably and couldn’t move like some I had seen in the past?
I was doing this for my mother. I wanted to please her, and I wanted to get a pleasant word–one that would mesmerize my mother. I longed to hear how I would do something great for The Father of lights one day. In my underdeveloped brain, I thought that if this man told me something spiritually creative about myself, my mother would be very proud of me, and I wanted so desperately to please her. This, too, would one day cause me great pain.
As I moved forward, I looked at the balding dark-headed man of large stature and wondered what he would prophesy over me.
There are moments in life that stick with you, like a piece of putty stuck in your conscious mind. This man is one of those plasters that have lingered with me forever.
He placed his large hand on my head and began to pray in the spirit. Then he looked into my eyes and said, “Daughter, the Lord says, He will cause you to serve Him!” He repeated it even louder and with more force, I said, “He will cause you to serve Him!” I stared at him, frozen with fear. Then he motioned for me to go on back to my seat. I was stunned. The women behind me made faces at one another and then looked at me very strangely. This prophet had spoken words of encouragement to many. Meanwhile, I get a peculiar look and a stern word. Not only that, but he looked as shocked as me that it had come out of his mouth.
My mother was anxious to hear what this holy man of God had spoken to me. Her ears were standing at attention like a Chihuahua as I made my way down the aisle.
“Well, what did he say?”
I must have looked funny. I’m sure my cheeks were rosy, and my mouth was tight.
“Bonnie, what’s wrong?”
I struggled to state the one sentence but finally got it out.
The echo, “He will cause you to serve Him!” Only mine was a whisper.
“He said what? I repeated it hoarsely.
“God will cause me to serve Him.”
“Well, that sure was different. Goodness, what do you think he meant?” Her eyes had lost the glitter and were now wide open. I felt the scrutiny of her eyes upon my soul for a moment. She looked up and down.
“Gosh Bonnie, I don’t know what I would think if he would have said that to me?”
She then stared at me again intently–like the women behind me in line, who had heard his voice boom.
I shrugged my shoulders and sat down, but in my mind, I was asking God a question, “Do I not serve you already?” I had been ‘saved’ at a very young age and loved God. I already felt invisible at home, and I didn’t seem to fit in at school. Now, I was hearing from this man that I was not serving God? He was supposed to hear from the Father. My mother called him anointed.
I went to every church service, and I learned multiple scriptures. I won awards for memorizing the most verses. I prayed, and I secretly wanted to do some work for God. Why was this happening to me?
I hung my head down. I felt funny inside.
I never forgot this man’s prophecy, and some twenty years later, in the midst of one of my most turbulent lifestyles, He did cause me to serve him. Yes, the man who had laid hands on me years before had heard the voice of Yahweh clearly in his ear.
It was a summer night in 2005. I had gotten married two years prior at the little white chapel in Las Vegas but never finalized it. There was nothing white or pure about the union. So after drinking and having sex with a man, I called my husband, but like the woman at the well, only lived with, I heard the sound of all the water in the ocean come crashing into me.
The voice spoke only five words, “Get your house in order!”
I catapulted up in the bed and looked out my window at the moon that, for the first time in my life, looked different. For the first time in my life, I knew that the same voice that just spoke to me had also hung that moon in the sky, along with the whole host of heaven. “God is that you?” I couldn’t breathe.
My heart was beating faster than it ever had, and waves of the vibration from His voice were still plummeting into my soul. “Get your house in order!” It ricocheted through me. I remember thinking, “Could God be trying to talk to me?” Is this voice I just heard that caused me to jump, really God, or am I going crazy? I couldn’t get the sudden fear of God out of my mind. My whole body was vibrating. I cannot tell you how I knew this, but suddenly I knew that this voice was THE ANCIENT OF DAYS. This voice was The Great, I AM! Every bit of the blood pumping through my veins was confirming it. I don’t know how, but I knew the VOICE I had heard knew all about me and everyone else, for that matter. It was an all-consuming voice, but why was He speaking to me? Out of all the sinners in the universe, why did He want me to get my house in order? Was it due to my parent’s prayers? Was he taking me home? Did He have an assignment for me? I didn’t have the answers yet, but I knew something bigger than me was happening.
I did a quick mental sweep of my spiritual house and my natural home, and then my heart sank.
I knew where those scriptures fell in the Bible because even in my backslidden state, I read His Word daily and wanted to change. One was a king. Hezekiah was his name.
“Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amos, went to him and said, “This is what the LORD says: PUT YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER, because you are going to die; you will not recover.”
Was I going to die? I knew Hezekiah pleaded with the Father and reminded him of all the righteous things he had done. Therefore, HaShem gave him fifteen more years, but I had nothing to plead with.
I laid there for what seemed like hours meditating on the state of my conscious mind and what had just transpired. Finally, I drifted off to sleep, and in my dream-like state, I began to hear the book of Genesis. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.”
This reading of the Word was being narrated to my spirit man in a way the Bible had never been deposited before, and it continued. “And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
Then I began to hear The Voice again, only this time it was different. It was more of a narrator in my spirit man speaking to me. “Bonnie, do you think that I gave you life so you can fulfill it on the lust of your flesh? Do you think I gave you life so you can aimlessly throw it away? Do you not see how I had an order to my creation? Do you not know that I am a God of order?
“Get your house in order.”
I continued to hear scriptures throughout the night and into the wee morning hours.
Something happened the next day that I cannot explain. I awoke with an incredible terror of God. For the first time in my life, I knew what the scripture meant, which said, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.”
I spent two days staring. I didn’t speak much. I sat and relived the voice. I could still hear it inside my soul. I didn’t share this experience with anyone but pondered it in my heart.
I had a fear now of a God I had heard about all my life but never knew in this manner. I knew the Sunday school teachings I had learned. The countless services and tent revivals I had been drug to since birth. I knew all the Bible stories, and I talked to this God often. I told my children about the God of the Bible, and I hid as much of my sin as I could from them. I talked to God as if He were my friend, and I often told Him I was sorry. I cried and read the Bible and pleaded for Him to forgive me over and over again, but I kept doing what I didn’t want to do. It was just as Paul said in Romans, “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” 7:15.
Now, I feared the sound of many waters. He was Holy—kadosh—set apart. He was omnipotent. I was grass.
“Get your house in order!”
Yes, His voice had penetrated my heart and my soul. He was causing me to serve Him. He was causing me to sit up and take notice of a God that was engulfing the universe and hovering over the waters—the same molecules He breathed into existence. He was all-encompassing. He did not just have a title; He had a Name. His name was Yod-Heh-Vav-Heh (YHVH), and it meant ‘Behold the hand—behold the nail.’ His Son’s hands had held those nails for lil ole me and also for the whole cosmos.

Posted in author, book signing, Kentucky Book Fair, Tekoa Manning, TM, Uncategorized

Kentucky Book Fair


It was an honor to be invited to the KY Book Fair. To be seated in a room full of authors like Wendell Berry was surreal.  His poetry has gotten me through many difficult times and caused me to become more aware of the beauty in creation. I had the pleasure of meeting Mary McDonough, who played Erin on The Walton’s. She stopped by our table and greeted me on her way to the back. New York Times best-selling author Sharon McCrumb was there, Jacinda Townsend’s, Bobbie Ann Mason, Cheryl Della Pietra, and many other authors who are very well-known for their craft. However, I guess the authors that I came to admire most were the ones that were seated around me.

It was a treat to meet P. Anastasia and sit beside her for two days soaking up all her marketing wisdom. She had lovely simple ideas, such as using a fun fluorescent marker to sign her books. If you are a Young adult or love Science fiction, you can pick up a copy of her trilogy, which starts with book one, Fluorescence: Fire Starter. 

It was great to see an old friend from a previous book event. Ronald R. Van Stockum, Jr. is a lawyer, teacher, biologist, writer, guitarist, and recently an actor living on his family’s old farm in Shelbyville, Kentucky. He is always inspiring and full of humor. One of his books that’s popular is titled Cosmos the Stellar Stalker. You can find him on Amazon. I was also excited to meet a new and upcoming author named Lauren Brandenburg, who, like me, writes faith-based books and she was able to share some great tips and advice both days with me. Her trilogy is called Boone. Book one is Boone: The Ordinary (The Book of the Gardener.)

 The young lady to the left of me who seemed to light up like a strand of bulbs each time a person stopped by her table. If Elizabeth Fannin Crowe’s book is as captivating as her smile, she will sell a million copies! Her book is titled The Proving. If you are a fan of The Hunger Games, you will love this story.

 Of course, there are always people we meet unexpectantly, the ones who, for whatever reason, are placed across our path, and that leaves me with my next two introductions. While eating at the hotel lounge on Thursday night, my husband and I decided to step outside and look at the adjoining shops and storefronts. I was on my scooter and still weak. We were assured that the doors were unlocked and we could come and go. So as our food was being prepared, we went for a stroll and then went to enter the hotel again, but found we were locked out. There was no way to get back in without going down a couple of flights of steps and enter all the way around through the hotel lobby area. With me in the scooter, there was no way for me to get down the stairs, and so about the time my husband decided to leave me there and open the door, a very kind soul appeared and offered to do that for him. I will not mention this person’s name because I feel they are entirely private, but I must say it was such a pleasure to get to know him. He had a great sense of humor, acting as if he was leaving us in the cold, waving with a smile. He asked what brought us to the hotel and where we were from, and the next thing we knew, we were in deep conversation about Walter the Homeless Man, family, friends, and the journey we all take in this life. I felt led to take this kind man’s hand and pray some encouraging words over him. As I was finishing, a woman appeared. She had an enchanting accent and a beautiful smile. Her name was Julia. She said, “Were you guys just praying here in the lounge? I love it!” she boomed and laughed and shared. I asked her if she was an author, and sure enough, she was. Julia Smethurst had just landed in KY all the way from England. It was so great to run into this native Californian at the book fair. Her table was one of the cleverest I’ve seen. It was adorned with colorful knitted chicken hats for the little readers of her picture book, Finclucky from Kentucky. Here is a description. 

Finclucky from Kentucky is the story of a chicken, his banjo, and a barnyard full of animal friends who form a band. Even the farmer, who is always working, joins in to enjoy the rhythm-and-blues played by Finclucky and his friends. Some folks say the blues were first played in the deep South, but those who read Finclucky will know the truth behind the music.”

 We sold over thirty books. I was thrilled that several ladies picked up my novels for their book club of the month, and several invited me to come and meet with them. 

 I want to thank my friend and mentor, Dr. Jo Zausch. Jo was able to help me polish up (Polishing Jade) in time for the fair. She also made the road trip to see me. I would also like to thank my friend and mentor, Charlie Manning, for breathing new life into Ellen cotton. Of course, I must thank my husband, who supports my books and holds me up when I am ready to collapse, both physically and spiritually. All and all, I am blessed to have had this experience and hope I am invited again.


Tekoa Manning





Posted in author, Author of the Month/Artist of the Month, TM, writing

Featured Author of the Month

mariylnnn (2)

I am so honored to feature this months author because we are not only joined by heart, but by family. Marilyn Loy Turner is one of the most poetic voices I have ever read. Her words bring emotions from a deep place and her raw ability to describe matters of the heart will leave you sighing. Please join me as Marilyn shares a story of FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE!

Once upon a Kentucky time when winds were high and spirits were low, a grand English duke rode swiftly over the bluegrass. He was in pursuit of the perfect family to bring up his infant daughter, the child’s mother barely buried beneath the British dust. Kentucky raised she was, and no better duchess existed, and so his little daughter too must grow up here in this beloved place.

Hi. I am Marilyn Loy Turner and you have just read the first paragraph of my book: “Once Upon a Kentucky Time.” I am thrilled to be a part of Tekoa Manning’s page. Actually, she selected me as “Author of the Month” for September. I was so excited, yet so shy, it took me all of 30 days to reply. Thank you for allowing me to share some of my humble writings with you.

I wrote this for “Guide Posts” but have yet to mail it. Talk about shy! Well, anyway: here goes!

by Marilyn Loy Turner

The sadness in my mother’s eyes began at my high school graduation. They saw more than a diploma tied in blue ribbon, In mother’s mind, I was still the little girl who cured the calamities of sick dolls, bandaged the neighbor kids ‘ skinned knees, walked the floor with sick siblings, and volunteered at the local nursing home.

Dad was remembering my first crush on a little crippled boy at school.

My parents knew that I burned with aspirations to help others. Although they admitted it was natural that I become a nurse, they feared my dreams were impossible.

I hadn’t realized that while I studied health and the biological sciences, they had been studying how to survive. Dad was a disabled veteran and it was all mother could do to raise food for the family. My small frame fit so easily into the seven-occupant, four-room house, that I didn’t miss what I didn’t have.

It was Dad who voiced their fears. “We can’t afford to send you to Midway College.” I was too busy completing forms and making plans to listen. Didn’t Dad know I had scholarships and was eligible for state grants? Wasn’t he proud that I had found my own way to my summer job at the hospital? (by riding with a neighbor)

“Midway College is over 100-miles away”, Daddy said, if you could come up with the money you have no transportation.”

Dad’s words brought anxiety. My transportation had always been simple. A bus had taken me to and from school. Without fail, a church bus had driven me to church every Sunday, but no bus, no neighbor, could take me to Midway.

It wasn’t fair! I felt nursing was my calling, my destiny, my small contribution to a hurting world. Midway was the best place for me. It was a Christian all-girl school which I considered the best nursing program in Kentucky. “Please, God help me,” I prayed. “Send me a ride.”

The nervousness increased when Midway sent the final communication. When was my arrival date and time?
Would I need a single room or a suite? The latter made me laugh. What a question for a girl without in-door plumbing!

The Sunday before I was to confirm my college registration, I missed the church bus. When I saw it whisk by, I burst into tears. Mother consoled me with a suggestion that I catch another church bus which would be arriving an hour later. It was from another county and another time zone, so I could still attend church.

As I waited outside for the other bus, a sense of peace enveloped me, as thick as the fog, it hovered, an assuring unseen presence. The feeling stayed with me as I climbed abroad the bus full of youth. There were teens from everywhere. I felt surrounded by friends.

Conversation on the bus soon turned to future plans as many were new graduates. When I explained my dilemma, the clamor suddenly stopped. All eyes turned to a quiet girl in the front seat. A red-haired boy broke the silence. “You see Janet up there?” She wants to attend Midway but her parents won’t allow her to drive back and forth alone. Now it looks like you both yourselves a ride!”

Once home, I rushed into the house with the news. Mother marveled. “All these years and you never missed that bus.”

I realized God had perfect timing. Missing the bus kept me from missing my education.

The happiness in my parents’ eyes began at my college graduation. They saw more than a diploma wrapped in gold ribbon. They saw a nurse.