Freedom: True Freedom Lasts Forever

By Wendy Cohen

Wendy Cohen, born to atheists shortly after WWII, knew, from her earliest memories, that her parents' atheism was wrong. Because of ongoing, supernatural, encounters with Jesus, she had a rich, personal relationship with God. Her heart yearned to bring her parents, whose atheism was born from the Holocaust, out of their darkness into the light o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647733094

Wendy Cohen

Wendy is married to a construction boss/ordained minister who is serving as a pastor for a small congregation. She is a stepmom to a young evangelist. She enjoys nature and spending time with her family.Wendy attended Bible school in Sweden for a period of time and has been a student of God's Word for over thirty years. She relishes the opportunity to teach from the Bible whenever the opportunity arises. She is certified as a nutritionist and lifestyle wellness coach. She loves to impart assistance to others in their endeavor to find wholeness and health.

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Acknowledgements

Thank You, Abba Father, for establishing my path, for protecting and guiding me along the journey. Thank You, Lord Jesus, for healing me, for never leaving me alone. Thank You, Holy Spirit, for taking care of me, for encouraging me to keep moving forward. Thank You, Lord God, for seeing me through to victory.

Glory to You alone, Lord God!

Thank you to all those who stood beside me, walking me through from conquest to conquest. Thank you for being Jesus’ angels to me. I don’t think I could have made it without your support. Thank you to those who read my manuscript, asking the important questions, helping me to tell the story as clearly as possible. And thank you to those who helped me clarify the visual concept in my heart. You are all so much appreciated!

Much, much love to you all!

Endorsements

What a journey! From satanic rituals, to blood covenants, to gurus, to potential cultic groups, to salvation, her story is truly amazing. It not only covers how she got drawn into the deception, but how God got her

out of it. She is able to capture the struggles, the challenges, the doubts and the revelation points that led her to God, then to Yeshua (Jesus) as Savior, then to her Jewish Roots and eventually to Israel. Her calling and giftings, though occasionally sighted in her early adventures, shine through more and more clearly as she is transformed under the leadership of the Messiah. The result of what God has done, meeting her where she was, and bringing her to the point of her destiny fulfillment, is exceptional. Her testimony is exciting and completely unpredictable, as real life often is, containing an amazing amount of twists and turns, ups and downs. Its true stories and personal reflections, including the unique characters and extreme variety of people God brought on her path, might feel unreal if they were not so very real."

Chad Holland, Senior Pastor

King of Kings Ministries, Jerusalem

Wendy’s story about her journey from darkness to light is amazing. To imagine the extent of the evil from which she was delivered, and how God changed her totally when she surrendered to her loving Father, is beyond belief. Hearing how God was with her all the time, even in the midst of the horrendous evil, is remarkable. It is a testimony to the extreme goodness of our God, in opposition to the extreme evil of Satan,

who deceives people even today. I trust that Wendy’s book will speak to many who are or have been involved with the occult and need healing and deliverance.

Tikva Volfson

Worshipper, Israel

Wendy’s odyssey is riveting. Her ability to define the unlimited fractals of the human soul inspired me, as well, to greater deliverance from occult captivity.

Patricia Ann Solveson

Artist of Jerusalem Wall of Life Mural 

Author of ArtCry Memoirs of a Mural Painter

Introduction

God’s Timing

This book is being published in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic of 2019–2020. Although I knew the book had lessons to teach for the future, showing us how to stand firmly with the Lord under massive demonic oppression, I was amazed at God’s timing. Freedom is being published at the exact moment a global onslaught of fear, disease, and death is trapping many in a struggle for their survival. In the meantime, God’s Body is responding powerfully to the Lord’s call to remain focused on Him, His love, His provision, and His purity, to rest in His goodness in the midst of all circumstances.

Like pebbles thrown into a lake, our testimonies can expand outward to touch multitudes with God’s love. I pray this book brings its readers into such intimacy with their Lord and Savior that God’s presence undoes all darkness around them. May His Light expand exponentially, through them, and through those they touch, to cover the globe. Like the two witnesses in the book of Revelation, may God give the readers of Freedom the ability to command the forces of evil to bow eternally before Jesus. May we all rest so firmly in the hand of our Lord and Savior that we transform the world around us with His love. Amen!

Thank You, Lord God, for guiding us so deeply into Your love that we can fully respond with Your weapons of love and glory in the times ahead. In Jesus’ holy name I pray.

PART I: DESCENT

Origins

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It all seems quite miraculous. Stupendous even. Some won’t believe it, or want to, but it saved my life. I was set up for victory. I could remember the promise, remember and remember and remember it. When life became incomprehensible, my mind could reset itself to strength and health and sanity.

It occurred before I was born. Inconceivable? Perhaps, but without it…

I was born to atheist Jewish parents. As a post-Holocaust baby, I was part of a society of many, many Jewish families who had completely lost faith in God. In my parents’ minds, no good God could ever have allowed such atrocities. They refused to believe in His existence, because the thought of a God who could allow such horrors was intolerable. I knew my parents were wrong. But why had He allowed it? I did not know.

As my parents waxed on about God’s nonexistence, and their passionate commitment to solve the problems of mankind, I remembered the time, before my conception, when I was floating, circling around God’s throne in heaven. A not-yet-birthed being that was totally focused on God’s glory, I could almost taste Him. He was everything I had ever known. He was my life. I existed to touch His heart, to feel His love, to experience His grandeur. I spent my eternity worshiping Him. In my existence there had never been anything except Him. My identity was without question. I was one who worshiped Him, and I would worship Him, forever. Because I was a thought in His mind, without Him, I did not exist. I was literally nothing.

I could see and feel the other not-yet-birthed beings around me. All wrapped in shades of the most beautiful, crystal-clear colors, we encircled His stunning ‘white’ Presence of Light, bathing in waves of His exquisite love. His gaze was ever upon each of us, as we were filled to overflowing with worship and praise. The magnitude, intensity, vitality, and intimacy of His care is beyond my ability to explain. We were filled to overflowing with the tenderest of love. His appearance was, is, indescribable.

Suddenly everything changed.

Look, He said, taking me by the hand and leading me to a cliff. (The words in quotation marks approximate my reality.) I have chosen a family for you. What do you think? Will you accept My blessing?

I looked down, and in shock and dismay proclaimed, No! I will not accept this. I do not choose to go!

But, He said, I have selected this for you. Will you accept My choice? It is My gift to you.

I looked at Him in horror. A gift? I thought. But yes, is what I said. How could one refuse God? I will go under one condition, that I will always remember You in heaven.

He agreed. The promise was made.

Immediately I began to fall…to fall and fall and fall…looking up into the purity of His white light, feeling encouraged to go farther down and down and down…

Until I turned and discovered myself in utter blackness.

I was terrified. My mother’s womb was very, very dark. And very small.

The family conversations continued. But God couldn’t exist. Since He allowed the pogroms and the Holocaust, the suffering of the African Americans and the Native Americans, if He exists, He is terrible. I would rather spend an eternity in hell than an eternity with Him. The lists and the descriptions of the pains and sufferings of the world went on and on. But humanity can rise above this agony. We, as human beings, can resolve these problems. The ability and obligation of mankind to solve its own challenges was discussed late into the night.

How was I, a small child, to make sense of all this pain and suffering? I didn’t know, but I committed to trying. The problems bored themselves into my soul. There must be a way to victory. But how? The question of why plagued me the most. I had a why question to almost everything. I especially wanted to know why God had created such a miserable world, considering heaven’s glory… My parents must have gotten tired of all my whys.

I remembered my mother throwing a chair at my dad when I was in her womb. I asked her about it, and she confirmed the story.

I had had fifteen miscarriages before you were born. I was terrified of losing another baby, and I threw a chair at your dad out of anger and fear. You were also born a month early, but you were fine. I’m so glad you lived. I love you very, very much! But how did you know about that?

I don’t know, Mom. The same way I remember heaven, I guess.

My mind wandered back to my time in her womb… No wonder I had panicked. Hold on! I remembered telling myself in her weak womb. Help! I screamed in my tiny little heart. What can I hold on to? Where is safety? And then, I sighed. I saw a light, shining in my mother’s womb, reminding me of God’s promise to me. When I looked at it, I felt more secure. When I held on to the light, comfort and peace flooded my fetal soul. With the light, I would survive.

My mother was hugging me and kissing me.

What was my birth like, Mommy?

It was very difficult, honey.

Why?

My womb wouldn’t open, and by the time you finally came out, we both almost died. I stayed in the hospital for two weeks after you were born, because I was very sick.

Oh. I’m sorry, Mommy.

They gave you to the wrong mother, and they gave me the wrong child. It wasn’t until the day after you were born that they realized their mistake and corrected it.

Did you love the other baby, Mommy?

Yes, it was a fat little boy with lots of black hair.

Did you love me too, Mommy?

Yes, but you were skinny, and you didn’t grow any hair for two years. That’s because you were a preemie.

Do you really love me, Mommy?

Yes, I do!

Isn’t it amazing I ended up with the right mommy after all?

Much later, I realized we both had bonded with the other person. I also learned what had happened to me during those twenty-four hours. Unquestionably, I owe my sanity to God. God, in my parents’ eyes, was my imaginary playmate. But in my eyes, He was my survival. He was my life.

My interior reality and my parents’ spoken reality were parallel in many ways.

I thought about God’s beautiful glory expressed in nature, while they spoke about man’s intelligence expressed in inventions.

I thought about God saving the world through His love, while they spoke about mankind saving the world through medicine.

I thought about science as an expression of God’s order, while they spoke about science re-creating the world.

I remembered the sounds and colors of heaven, which lifted my heart into God’s glory. They spoke about artists who lifted their souls into sublime dimensions.

I decided I would become an artist, especially a musician, to impact the world for God through sound. When I was five, I was given a piano, and I immediately started playing jazz on it, according to my dad. He loved jazz a lot. I felt like I was playing the sounds of heaven. The music flowed through me, without thought or effort. I prayed that my life would someday express the beauty, the harmony and balance I felt in music. I was beginning to understand my how.

Generations

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My parents loved each other deeply. I learned a lot about compassion and care from them. They took care of the elderly, the impoverished, the widows and orphans. I especially adored my dad, and I never wanted to disappoint him. I would have lived and died for him. He taught me special techniques to make dreams come true. If I wanted something, I was to knock three times, on wood. And if I made a birthday wish, I had to do it with my eyes squeezed really, really tight. I believed him.

When I was four years old, I watched Peter Pan on TV. Peter was teaching Wendy about fairies. He told her that every time somebody said they didn’t believe in fairies, one little fairy dropped down dead. "That’s not right, I thought. Wendy had just prayed to God, but now she was choosing to believe in Peter Pan. I was named for her, so this felt very, very personal to me. No!" I screamed in my head.

Wendy, Peter Pan is wrong! God is right! Listen! It’s not fairies, and it’s not Never Never Land, but if you forget God in heaven, something in you will die! And that’s the truth!

I did what my dad taught me to do. I knocked on the wooden desk three times, grabbed ahold of it really tight, squeezed my eyes shut with all my might, and said,

I believe, I believe, I believe in You, God in heaven, and I’ll never, ever forget You. Amen!

And that was that. I had covenanted my life to my Creator. I had chosen to believe in heaven, which I called Ever Ever Land. I belonged to my eternal Father and He belonged to me, and we would walk through life together. My heart had sealed itself for the Lord. His love would carry me through the rest of my life. No matter what happened, He would be there for me. He would never forget or reject my promise to Him. Now we had both promised something to each other, and we would both keep our words forever. I believed my dedication to Him would stand until the day I died. Amen. I was satisfied. My heart soared with happiness.

I liked my name. My mother had wanted me to always have the heart of a child, so she named me Wendy from Peter Pan. To this day, I love to laugh and play with abandon. The joy of playfulness helped save my life. She gave me the middle name Dena, after my grandma, Mom-Mom, as I called her. She was the only family member I knew who believed in God. I bonded deeply with her. When I was born, she helped take care of me, and I loved her with all my might. I felt safe in her presence. On Shabbats, when we went together to her synagogue, the music, the liturgy, the prayers, the smell of the pews, her friends, all made me happy. I was at home when I was with her. Our name, Dena, means judged and vindicated, and we would both be vindicated in our lives. There was a special closeness between us based even upon our names.

Her husband, my grandfather, was a powerful, brilliant brute of a man. He had been a boxer when he was younger, and he had conquered death several times over. Now, in his seventies, I believed he could kill anybody who tried to hurt me. With massive hands and a gorgeous, roaring voice, he was larger than life. His adventures, conquests, and mysteries filled my mind, and his rebellion, selfishness, and arrogance filled my soul. I wanted to be like him. When he sang opera, the whole neighborhood heard him. Whether it was two o’clock in the afternoon or two o’clock in the morning, it didn’t matter. Grandpa sang as loud as he wanted, whenever he wanted. I tried to sing like him. He was a booming Russian bass baritone, so the closest I could get, with my little child’s voice, was a tenor. But I sang tenor with all my might. It took me decades to find my own voice.

Mostly, Grandpa, or Pop-Pop, lived his life for his own pleasure. Godlessness gave him the right to make his own rules. He was a cantor in various synagogues, and he led choirs in various churches, until he was ninety-five years old. Yet it was his voice, his passionate and vociferous words, that caused most of his family to become atheists. His hatred of God stemmed from