Prophetic Moments And Prayers

By Mitzie Holstein

This book details a sequence of events, discoveries combined with awesome moments of oneness with the Holy Spirit.

I am a poet, author and teacher who continues to yearn for a constant, deep relationship with the Most High. Despite many challenges, I am learning how to live as a follower of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Apr 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781647537593

Mitzie Holstein

I am a poet, author and teacher who continues to yearn for a constant, deep relationship with the Most High. Despite many challenges, I am learning how to live as a follower of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

Book preview

Introduction

It began on Saturday, March 14, 2015, at approximately 3:30 a.m. I awoke and lifted my head from the pillow. It was that time to use the bathroom. Arise shine for the light has come and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee, (Isaiah 53) said a male voice as clearly as could be. So I quickly grabbed my iPad and rushed into the bathroom. I hurriedly typed the line into Google, and Isaiah 60 popped up. Why Isaiah 53? came the thought. So I decided to read Isaiah 53.

That’s when I met Jesus. As I read, I began to understand, for the first time in my life, the price that He had paid for my sin—to redeem me. I cried. I could not stop. The tears rolled down my cheeks. I sobbed. Then I read Isaiah 60, and I cried even more. There was a knock on the door.

Mommy, are you okay?

Yes.

No, you are not. You are crying!

So I responded as best as I could, The Holy Spirit is upon me.

My son, Sheldon, must have been satisfied because he went back into his room and closed the door.

Moments later I was standing inside his room, turning his light on. The tears continued to stream down my face. I said, Listen to this, son, and tell me what you hear.

He listened as I read them. At this point, snot was all over my face.

His response was, Well, the first one is all about how Jesus was going to come to suffer and die for our sins, and the last one is about what the world will be like when He comes back.

Funny enough, the tears went away. My face became dry. I went back to bed, said a prayer to God, and lay right next to my husband, who had no clue as to what had just happened.

Sunday came. I woke up with pain in my right hand. I could barely move my fingers. I used Icy Hot, Aspercream, and finally, nutmeg oil. None of them worked. I felt the pain, but I also had a sense of the presence of God around me. I was in a praying mode, and that was how the day went—prayer and pain. On Monday, March 16, I sat with my usual group of lunch mates at work. As we talked, I felt a tiny tinge of yesterday’s pain emerge.

I said, Goodness!

This hand hurt me so much yesterday.

Another teacher, a Southern Christian woman, said, You know, Miss Holstein, sometimes when these things happen, it’s because you are getting the gift of healing.

Hmmm…funny that you should say that, I said. But this is what happened to me on Saturday morning. I related the story to the group, which included our renowned atheist.

My favorite Southerner went, Ooh! I’m getting goose pimples!

I was not sure what to make of it all. However, I knew from that moment that I had to place all my trust in God, which might also include trying Him on that healing thing.

Well, Monday passed. I had no more pain. Tuesday came. It was just a regular day. I was actually pressed to see my neighbor for about two days. She had lost her husband a few months before that. So on this particular Tuesday evening, I knocked on her door and went inside to chitchat with her. As we talked, she would move back and forth from the living room to attend to the pot on the stove. She hopped back and forth. Before I left, I was moved to ask her about her foot.

What happened? I asked her.

Arthritis. The doctor said it’s arthritis. How long have you had it? I asked.

For about a month, she said.

Long story short, I asked her if she would mind if I prayed with her. Bear in mind that I had never done anything of this nature before. I took a tiny wicker chair belonging to one of her grandchildren and placed her foot on it. I placed my left hand below her foot, and with the right hand on top of it, I prayed something like this. It was a simple prayer.

Father God, to you belongeth all dominion and power. Heal your daughter now so that your name may be glorified. May she recognize you because of this healing that will take place. In Jesus’s name I pray, amen. I left about five minutes later. It was March 17.

Wednesday passed without anything major happening. Thursday came. It was open-school night—a time when I, as a teacher, meet with parents to discuss their children’s progress. At or around 7:30 p.m., I was by myself when my cell phone buzzed. Under the circumstance, I would have naturally ignored it. Instead, I went ahead and answered.

Richard? (Richard is my husband’s name.)

No. It’s Mitzie.

Are you home?

No, I responded. I am having open school tonight.

Anyway, it’s you I want, she said. "You prayed for me,

and I’m healed! I’m healed!"

Something came over me. I said, All praise and glory be to God. Give Him all the praise.

We hung up from each other. I sat right there in my classroom and prayed. When I got home that night, I drank a cup of soup and went directly to the shower. I was pressed to seek the face of God. I wanted no interference.

Moments later, I was kneeling in bed, talking with God. In about ten minutes, I was in tongues. The funny part is that I understood what I was