Tell Them That I Love Them: Living in the Power of the Spirit

By John DiBattista Jr.

Tell Them That I Love Them is a personal message given to author John DiBattista Jr., directly by Jesus Christ. These short stories will take you step-by-step through his own personal conversion, his spiritual growth process, and finally, his life of service. Read closely. There is a message for you, and all who desire spiritual power and personal fulfillment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449737269

John DiBattista Jr.

John DiBattista is an ordained evangelist who has traveled around the world, preaching and teaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. His spiritual experiences mirror those of Jesus’ disciples and bring hope and renewal to all those who repent and are born again. John and his wife, Caryl, live near Chicago and love to ride their horse Preacher, travel, and be with their family and three grandchildren. Michelle Watson is the creative editor of this book. Her name was given to John by the Holy Spirit, and she took the stories from his journals and put them in creative language while maintaining and often enhancing the message.

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Copyright © 2012 by John DiBattista Jr.

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ISBN: 978-1-4497-3728-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-3727-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-3726-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012900828

WestBow Press rev. date: 05/02/2012

CONTENTS

DEDICATED TO

BROTHER JOSEPH LOVALVO

TELL THEM THAT I LOVE THEM

STATEMENT OF

PHILOSOPHY

INTRODUCTION

PART ONE

TRAINED UP

A NORMAL LIFE

REVELATION

CONVERSION

MILK

PURPOSE

PART TWO

MIRACLES TAKE FLIGHT

CASTING OUT DEVILS

OVERCOME OBSTACLES

AND CHILDREN ARE GIVEN

MOVING MOUNTAINS

IN THE SPIRIT ON THE LORD’S DAY

FEED THE FIVE THOUSAND

Speak to the Rock

FINDING PURPOSE

MESSAGE IN THE MIRACLE

LITTLE BENNIE

REFUSING TO BELIEVE

FINAL JOURNEY

CONCLUSION

DEDICATED TO

BROTHER JOSEPH LOVALVO

Brother Joe was born on March 1, 1910 and passed on to his reward on December 31, 2005. Everyone who knew Brother Joe, even those who did not have extensive interaction with him, would agree that he was a unique man—a man of God.

As I started my spiritual journey, the Holy Spirit directed me to Brother Joe, and he became my mentor for more than fifteen years. He never tired of teaching and demonstrating God’s love and power to me.

He had an unquenchable desire to testify of Jesus Christ and the gospel that had been restored and unselfishly passed it on to all who would listen. My words do not sufficiently express my love and respect for this man and how he impacted my life.

TELL THEM THAT I LOVE THEM

Preface

This collection of miraculous, supernatural events has shaped the past sixty years of my life. Fortunately, I am blessed to have a daughter, Christine, who insisted that I keep a journal. To ensure that I did, she gave me one each Christmas for several years.

My wife, Caryl; my son, John; and several of my friends and colleagues have urged me to write these experiences so that others might benefit and be blessed from the hope and encouragement that they bring.

I would like to be able to take some form of credit for these and the many other spiritual experiences that I have enjoyed and am about to share with you, but I can’t. I suggest that these types of events are probably happening in many of your lives as well, but no one has stimulated your spiritual sensitivity to the point that you recognize them for what they are—interventions by God. After all, the responsibility of the Holy Spirit is to draw all men and women to Him through the demonstration of His unconditional love.

I hope that when you read these examples of God’s grace, you will realize that His love extends to you and want to make Him your Lord and Savior, as I did.

For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved (John 3:17).

May God bless you.

Unless otherwise indicated, the Scriptures quoted are from the King James Bible.

STATEMENT OF

PHILOSOPHY

It is my firm belief that each of us came into this world with a purpose and that we were given the tools to fulfill that purpose. We were created in God’s image and gifted by our Creator to represent Him in some manner, small or great. While we are on our life’s journey, our life’s true purpose unfolds. I have also discovered that many people are slow to realize their purpose, and in fact, many go to their graves without ever having had the opportunity to live it. These people seem to face death with uneasiness and uncertainty, as the man who received one talent in the parable of the talents experienced (Matthew 25:14-30).

I believe that the rebirthing process allows us to rediscover our individual purpose. Our lives get reoriented through the process of belief, faith, repentance, baptism, and receipt of the Holy Spirit. We regain the opportunity to make our unique contribution to the world. Being born again allows us to grow into the spiritual people we were intended to be, regardless of how flawed we have become.

The process, though, has been so distorted through time that it does not often carry with it the promises intended. The power has been lost as men and institutions have modified or dismissed the original process.

My purpose is to tell all that the power of being born again has not been lost. In fact, when completed as directed and demonstrated by Christ, the recipient will enjoy the promised heavenly blessings while in the flesh. My book, Tell Them That I Love Them, recounts the process and the results enjoyed through a series of short stories.

Contact John at

www.tellthemthatilovethem.net

[e-mail]

INTRODUCTION

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

—Matthew 6:25-26

A wet June midnight in 1992 found me and my missionary friend, Joel, standing on a damp platform in Roma Termini, exhausted from our long train ride and the past seven days of non-stop church work. We were both mentally worn from attempting to communicate in Italian and almost completely drained of our allotted daily funds. We felt invisible as we stood there, jostled by a thousand other travelers bustling purposefully toward a thousand different destinations. We didn’t even know where we would sleep that night. The rain began to come down hard.

In the darkness, a voice asked, Why don’t we pray? It was as if Joel could read my mind.

What a novel idea for two missionaries, I responded. Setting down our luggage, we joined hands and offered prayer. It was short and ineloquent, but the words were pure in spirit. Lord, please send someone to help us. We are here, doing your work, and we need your help. In Jesus’ name we pray.

We had picked up our luggage and taken two steps toward the nearest taxi queue when a young man walked up to us and said in perfect English, I came to help you.

The prayer that had just been so freshly offered didn’t register in our minds as we introduced ourselves to this stranger. He responded to our greetings by simply saying, Hello. My name is Daniel. What can I do for you?

We’re exhausted, and we don’t speak Italian, I explained. We need food, shelter, and transportation. And we only have 80,000 lire. (That was about $65)

Pulling a cell phone out of his pocket, Daniel negotiated a room for us at the Florida Hotel near the Fountain of Trevi, one of the most popular tourist attractions in Rome. The rate is 60,000 lire, he said. The hotel is brand new, and no one has ever slept in the room reserved for you. It’s only a couple of blocks away, but you’ll never find it in this downpour.

Without waiting for a response from us, he turned and went out into the rain toward the first taxi in the queue and managed to negotiate our ride for 5,000 lire (about five dollars). The cab driver was visibly unhappy. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate having to take his taxi out in the storm for a mere 5,000-lire fare.

Daniel returned and told us to place our bags in the trunk but not to expect any help from the driver, since we didn’t have the money to tip him. As we walked toward the taxi, I decided I should get Daniel’s address to send him a thank-you note. But when I turned, he was nowhere to be found.

The room was nice. In fact, it was the best accommodation we had experienced on our entire seven-day trip. We didn’t stand a chance against the queen-size canopy beds with soft, white linens covering thick, fluffy mattresses. Our stomachs were even satisfied with the pizza slices and Cokes we purchased with the little money we had left over. We even got to see the Fountain of Trevi, where people toss coins over their shoulders and wish for miracles.

As I was wiping sleep away from my eyes the next morning, I decided to call home. It was Sunday evening in California, and when my wife, Caryl, answered, she surprised me by anxiously blurting out, Are you okay?

Sure, I’m great. Why?

Today at church, during our afternoon meeting, Brother Frank stood up and said, ‘John and Joel are in trouble. Let’s get on our knees and pray for them.’ Then the entire congregation knelt down and asked God to help you. I was afraid something happened.

No, nothing happened, I said. We changed the subject and continued our conversation.

Amazingly enough, I didn’t put all the pieces of this incident together until well after I returned to the United States. One evening a few months later, I had the opportunity to share some of the highlights of the trip with our congregation in Modesto, California. When I got to the part about Daniel, two women later testified that while I was speaking, they heard a voice say, Look up! When they did, they both saw a young man descending in a column of light behind me. He had his hands lifted toward heaven as if he were worshiping, and they heard a voice say, This is the angel that I sent to help my servants in Italy.

That same evening, my cell phone rang. It was a friend from the Modesto congregation who said that as he and his family were driving home after the meeting, his young son, Brandon, inquired from the back seat, Who was that man in church tonight? He reminded Brandon that it was me. You know Brother John DiBattista. Remember the time we stayed at his house?

His son repeated, "No,