When Roses Fall

By Lorene Masters

In the fall of 2018, God called Lorene on a 40 day fast for sex trafficked survivor Kelly Patterson. During the fast the Lord took her on a journey into the spirit realm where he revealed his heart to her in regards to women trapped in sex trafficking – the fastest growing criminal activity in the world. The scenes are vivid and real, and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: May 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647731212

Lorene Masters

Lorene Masters is a wife, mother, actress, dramatist, radio personality, and poet. She is the author of and and the Hopeful and Chasing White Horses: Poetry for Women Who Love Too Much. Lorene holds a bachelor’s degree in speech/theater/broadcasting and loves to perform her more than twenty original dramatic monologues of women who are transformed by the touch of Jesus. She lives in South Dakota with her family and her cats. For more information please visit LoreneMasters.com or the Lorene Masters Facebook page.

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Foreword

I first met Lorene Masters at a book signing for the book I had published regarding my journey as a sex trafficking survivor. Our personalities immediately meshed, and I sensed a greater purpose in our meeting.

It was just shortly after that encounter that Lorene began having visions and dreams that would give her very intimate encounters with the Lord. Many of our first conversations regarding these visions were astonishing! Lorene was receiving intel that only a survivor of sex trafficking could really know about. I was shocked to find out that she literally knew nothing about the subject.

Frequently, Lorene would call or ask to meet and share something she had dreamt or had a vision of, and her questions to me would be is this a thing? or does this make sense to you? Many of these discussions would cause me to reflect deeply on things in my past, things I hadn’t shared with anyone, and often things I hadn’t yet identified.

These conversations were powerful and healing to me as it was giving me the opportunity to hear God’s heart for survivors through Lorene’s encounters with God. It was affirming to understand God’s great love and care for those of us who have suffered so greatly due to mankind’s depravity!

There were little details that made it intimate to me as well, such as God giving Lorene the character’s name as Rose. Rose is my middle name, but Lorene didn’t know that. She also didn’t know that my middle name had been paired with other names by my traffickers to make up stage names. I had grown to fear my own middle name and almost despise it. However, with each dream or vision Lorene received, I grew more and more in love with my own middle name again. Now I adore it!

In writing When Roses Fall, Lorene has unleashed a powerful tool for intercessors in the body of Christ to take down the enemy! I believe that this book will be utilized worldwide to give understanding of the nature of the destruction that the enemy is up to and to then gain the strategy of the Lord to stop the enemy in his tracks!

It means a great deal to me personally and to survivors in general to have others taking on this war on their knees in their war rooms and crying out for freedom and justice! I thank you in advance for caring enough to read this book and learn the strategies of God to wage war.

Kelly R. Patterson

Author of From Trafficked to Treasured

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Pastor Tani Parker, Lori Dohn, Judy Mildren, and Bethann Baffuto for always having time to listen, encourage, and pray. A special thank you to Pastor Brent Parker for seeing this book before I did, and to Pastor Kelly Patterson for modeling the survivor life through Jesus for all to see. For giving me the eyes to see and the ears to hear, I am forever grateful to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. And to all who are still trapped in sex trafficking, may you know freedom now and for all eternity—this one’s for you.

PROLOGUE

It was a lovely day in late summer when I found her. A day when gardens flourished, and soft breezes wafted across the land. The sun stretched its warm arms to earth, embracing rows of fragrant flowers still in bloom. There was no apprehension of branches being stripped naked from a premature frost, nor hearts unearthed, waking to buried pain of yesterday and, in despair, driven to endure fresh memories for the first time.

Her name was Rose, and I adored her from the start. An invisible red ribbon knit our souls together as one. A fuzzy red ribbon, the kind little girls wore in their hair until the delicate weaving unraveled and the ribbon is discarded. Now with new fibers, the bond is unbreakable. The connection’s easy, not stifling, essential for where we’re traveling.

But this love wasn’t without cost. My deep devotion for her would rip my heart out and pierce through me with many hidden thorns—the inevitable loss in new creations.

When something new lives, something old dies. Last summer’s flowers scorched to a crisp by the sun, supplanted with something fresh in the springtime. Jesus, our example, perfect lovely rose of Sharon, casting down His life to pick up it up anew, and not just His life but our lives too. For if we die with Him, we’ll live again with Him. The passing is worth it, even if the fruit of our eternal reward remains hidden for now, stored up safely in heaven, simmering with life. For His Word says that a grain of wheat will remain alone unless it’s planted into the ground and dies. Only then will it produce a great harvest. One grain sprouting emits lasting hope, lingering down through the ages. His love is like that, spreading, reaching to all.

When God chooses to use a person, He prepares him or her in His divine classroom. Though the door to leave is open, to do so would have devastating eternal consequences. So, I remained rooted in Him as my soul travailed daily with tears aplenty and earthly companions removed far from me. I knew it was for more than just Rose. My hope always was Jesus, trusting in what I do not see. Though we are trampled and vexed on every side, we press on, encouraged by His risen life, assuring us that not always will thorns press into our souls. He’s made a way. All can now know eternal life, the grand finale of suffering.

FINDING ROSE

I notice her first with Jesus. His eyes sing to my soul, encouraging me to come closer. Though fearful, I speak my thoughts, I’m troubled, Lord. I long to be of service to you, but my giftings are confusing, too diverse. What if people laugh or misunderstand me?

They rejected me, called me a blasphemer, and mocked my name, Jesus softly says.

Teach me what to do, Lord.

I’ve already shown you many times. Little by little, I’ve been awakening your spirit through the teachers I’ve put in your life and through my Word and my whisper in your soul in the quiet hours.

Jesus lays written instructions on the table. We sit across from each other. His head is down. When He looks up, His face is drenched in sweat, eyes crimson, swimming with blood flowing down His body.

I look away, but His eyes follow me.

Why will you not go? I’ve given you so much. Take Me to the broken ones. Show them all I did was done in love so they could live. Take Me to others with no hesitation.

Later, I follow as Jesus leads me away. Instead of a dirty white garment, He’s wearing a gold robe with a beautiful gold sash. Only in previous visions of heaven have I seen Him attired in royalty. It’s odd, but I don’t think I can relate to Him. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing Him wounded as the way I am. But when I witness the love in His eyes, I’m sure this is my same Jesus.

The trees resemble trees from Timber Lake, the Indian reservation I grew up on. The dirt reminds me of the nearby Little Moreau Park—hardpack images of my childhood. There are two more picnic tables in a bare clearing. Jesus has a white bag filled with my books. The bag is endless with no bottom.

Rose sits at one table, her treasure chest open before her. She is pulling out jewels and inspecting them. Jesus sits across from her, chuckling at a squirrel playing.

He picks up a magnificent blue topaz gem. Tell me about this gem, Rose, His eyes concentrating on her like pools of the fire of love.

The topaz comes in many colors—yellow, orange, brown, blue, pink, violet, and green. It can even be colorless.

Yes, that is correct. Can I tell you something further about this stone?

Rose thinks for a minute. Yes, please. Is it regarding the foundation in the New Jerusalem?

Jesus answers by taking her there.

Streets of gold, transparent as crystal. Flowers and plants of every kind. A massive wall reaches above, ornamented with precious stones. A river of pure water flows down the middle of the city with the tree of life on either side. Miraculously, this tree produces a new fruit each month. Fruit that heals and is free for the taking. The new world that is to come is for all who wait for Him, our eternal home with wonders beyond our imagination. The old order of things—gone. Light and love are forever shining from His face.

Shadows fall in the surrounding trees. Yellow eyes glow in the darkness. Demons. But Jesus is there. So they are powerless. Rose examines the intricate design of the jewels, oblivious to what is lurking in the shadows just a few feet away. Like a child reborn, great is her innocence and trust in Jesus.

I, at my table, am trying to organize my books, then memorize a monologue and figure out what costume to wear. One demon attempts to step out of the darkness, but Jesus just looks at him, and he hurries back to his hiding place. Another demon is playing with a snake, planning to let it loose. The snake even has jewels on it! But he decided against it after the rejected demon’s return. I wouldn’t. He is there!

Rose and I walk through a narrow tree-lined path with Jesus leading. A large stage is visible in the distance. I have seen this stage before in visions. It resembles something in biblical times but is modern. It’s a physical stage but also symbolic of the healing that will flow through us, proclaiming freedom from sin for all people, sin as old as time.

As excitement builds, my thoughts race. A stage! For me? Oh, but I’m not ready. But I could be. Oh, what drama should I do?

Has someone checked the sound? What about the lights? Jesus, when will we get to go on stage? Can I go first?

Like a hidden lion pouncing on his prey, demons come at me. They grab me, tie me to the table, and try to eat me.

Stone her! Stone her! I hear. Old friends of mine hold the rocks, proclaiming with arrogance and resignation, God knows best. Others look on with pity, yet do nothing to stop the stoning. The wind breathes cold air. Lonely.

From my bound condition, I declare to Jesus, I will never cease loving you, Lord, even if I die on this table.

Feed my sheep, Irena.

I am sorry, Lord, but I cannot move.

Jesus pauses and looks at me. We will wait.

A passage of scripture sounds. I am not sure if I am quoting it or if Jesus is speaking.

The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked came against me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell. For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion; He shall set me high upon a rock. Now my head shall be lifted up above my enemies all around me; Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice! Have mercy also upon me and answer me. When You said, Seek My face, My heart said to You, Your face, Lord, I will seek. Do not leave me nor forsake me, when my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me. Teach me Your way, O Lord, and lead me in a smooth path because of my enemies. I would have lost heart unless I had believed ahat I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord; Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; (Ps. 27 kjv)

MY CAVE

Two years ago, Jesus drew me away to a secret place. Call to Me. I will answer you and show you things that are hidden, things you do not know.

Since I’m not one to pass up the revelation of a mystery, I said yes. But mainly, it’s because He asked. My greatest pleasure is always to be alone with Him. And it delighted me to discover John, the author of the Revelation, would be my companion on this new journey.

Daily I met with Jesus in the car, at work, or at church. One hour, two hours, six hours. He was never far away, as close as the mention of His name. Each time we met, He took me higher into the supernatural realm. The visions were continuous and orderly. In the spirit, I visited earth, heaven, and hell. Incredible things passed before me beyond what can be perceived with the eye. Though still in the world, as far as it concerned me, my new life with Jesus was the real world. He sheltered me, helped me to see. The right people were always there to encourage me to keep seeking, keep asking. Outside of an intermittent visitor, never have my supernatural encounters had people still alive on earth in them. Never. Until Rose.

The scenes of my visions changed, and suddenly I became an invisible yet active witness in the activities of Rose and other victims of sex trafficking.

Even though I loved Rose with a God-given love, I was not thrilled to share my haven. My secret place with Jesus, my cave. The name fits since John wrote the Revelation in his cave on the Isle of Patmos. My cave is a special place where I learn from Jesus, listening to His lovely voice singing to my soul.

After I somehow got myself untied from the table, I hurry to my cave. Rose follows, walking. Calm. I am almost to the cave’s entrance when she approaches. Jesus is nearby, watching. You’re not trusting her.

I don’t know her.

It doesn’t matter. If I say you can trust her, you can trust her.

The voices of my enemies resound in the distance. Intelligent. Pious. Unified anger spits as they sit around a fire pit. Stone her! Stone her!

Yes, stone her! My thoughts shout in agreement.

Can I come in? Rose asks, peering into my cave.

I act ignorant, as though I can’t see her, looking behind me into the darkness.

A comforting fire is crackling in another room. John and I were looking at scrolls and manuscripts while munching on cookies and drinking coffee.

Well, I am rather busy.

Jesus appears next to me, touching me on the shoulder. Sure! Come on in!

Rose is smiling, pleasant. I love her. She grasps my hand and looks me in the eye. We need to talk. Her touch is soft, eyes gentle. I am not aware of the condemning voices now.

We walk a short distance and meet Jesus wearing a clean white tunic with a gold sash.

He’s invisible one moment and then right beside me the next. I laugh at His disappearing act.

Remember, Irena, I am everywhere.

Oh, how I adore Him!

THE ICE BLOCK

Rose and I stroll a little more. My cave borders an ocean. The waves emit soothing, splashing sounds. We both love the ocean, so we sit on the beach and chat. Out of nowhere, a large block of ice drops in front of us.

What is that? Where did it come from? I didn’t see any icebergs, did you?

Rose gets up to get a better look. In embarrassment, I look away. I refuse to speculate on this phenomenon. I consider running away, but I’m not fast enough. Panic catches me. I freeze. My heart races. I need air! I need to hide. Please, God, hide me! Instead, I stand naked in complete disbelief. Memories of my past appear, perfectly preserved in the ice. Complete scenes in vivid colors. Scenes still alive in my mind and emotions. Like a large TV screen, horror replays in the ice before me.

Don’t look, Rose.

"Don’t shut me out. I can help you. Tell