Wheat In The Tares

By DJ Richards

"What the enemy meant for my hard, God used as propulsion to accelerate me to a future. That I could not even imagine."

This book is a testament to the trials of one who was gifted with dreams of prophecy and how our enemy tried his best to kill, steal, and destroy one person from early childhood through even now. Yet the Creator of all that was created rescued me, even from myself. He justifies me, avenges me, protects me, and prospers me through His promises by the blood of Jesus. Learn how to access your promises now because when Jesus gets here, it's kind of too late. By the way, He's coming soon! That is the whole point.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891126923

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

1 Samuel 29:10

Genesis 1:28

The Most Beautiful Visitor

Darkness Comes

Jeremiah 1:5

Matthew 18:6–10

Isaiah 49:25–26

Colossians 3:25

Psalm 44:1–2

Deuteronomy 32:35

Psalm 144:1–2

Romans 12:19–21

Hell on Earth

And Then…

Psalm 56:8

Psalm 57:4

Anchors Away, Again

Psalm 73:2–3

Matthew 10:36

Galatians 6:9–10

Proverbs 31:17

Proverbs 31:11–12

Proverbs 24:5

Proverbs 22:6

11 Timothy 6:5

Isaiah 46:4

Isaiah 52:21–23

Hebrews 10:25

Hebrews 11:25

Colossians 3:16

1 Timothy 3:12

Romans 8:28–30

Jeremiah 3:15

Psalm 133:1

Micah 4:6–7

1 Samuel 15

Psalm 91:10–12

1 Thessalonians 4:13–14

Revelation 21:4

John 16:33

Matthew 5:14–16

About the Author

cover.jpg

Wheat In The Tares

DJ Richards

ISBN 979-8-89112-691-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89112-692-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2024 DJ Richards

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Acknowledgments

Igive God all the glory for what He wants written on these pages. I believe He is the reason I am awake in these wee hours of the morning, filling these pages with a history of experiences that should have destroyed the little children who lived it. (And for a while, it really looked like there would be no happy ending .) I also have to acknowledge my amazing leaders of Calvary Christian Center in Ormond Beach, Florida: Apostle Jim and Pastor Dawn Raley, Pastor Troy T. McCoy, and all my music pastors, Trent Cory, John Carey, and John Wilds, who have accepted my country twang mercifully, Liz (Sweet Tunes) and Jeremy Caffman, and the many guest pastors, most notably Jesse Duplantis and Bishop T. D. Jakes, who shine like a beacon in the black waters of life, and most notably, Pastor Jack Andrews, who first showed God's love toward my family when I was just a baby. I have learned real love from you all as you presented Jesus the way I was supposed to know Him, the real Jesus.

With the knowledge that Momma and Daddy are in the arms of our great God and most assuredly have their mansions, promised to them by the word of our Lord, and knowing I have two sons, Leland Joseph and Thomas Ashley, my grandson Joshua, and all of Julie's babies, and even Red's baby boy, keeping them busy in the promised land, I now have the grit to tell a story about what we don't speak of. I sit down and pen these words with the hope that we as a people will come out of the darkness of ignorance and begin saving our children, not just here in our great America, but everywhere a child clutches a pillow with a pair of trembling knees to their face and cries silent, hot tears, waiting for a savior. And for all of us who made it through the torture, it's time to let the history of our tragedy never repeat its ugly darkness on any more generations. That means putting what we don't speak about in stereo and blasting it. My sister B-Bug and I waited and waited and waited in silence. Now she's in heaven, too, and that leaves just me to open this can of worms. I just happen to have experienced salvation, grace, faith, patience, kindness, and gentleness from parents who took the time to share their knowledge of the Lord with me and the powerful pastors who fished me out of a sea of darkness.

God gave me some incredible gifts before I even knew how, when, or where to use them. (I don't even care anymore about why; that's too heavy for me.) And thanks to the aforementioned voices of God, I'm learning to use them now for God's glory.

1 Samuel 29:10

We were up early, around 4:30 a.m. Momma was in the kitchen, packing fishing food and drinks and perking up Daddy's Maxwell House. I and B-Bug were still rubbing our eyes as we sat down for a quick breakfast of grits, eggs, bacon, and toast. Momma bundled us up after breakfast because it was April and still really cold in the morning, especially on the St. Johns River. Dad was buzzing around outside, getting the boat ready for a fishing trip. He knew where to go on the river or the ocean, where the fish always were, and how to catch them so well that people who knew him called him Catfish (because, I think, he knew how to catch big and many catfish).

After breakfast, we were packed in Dad's old Ford pickup, along with all the other gear and foodstuff, and went to either the mighty St. Johns River or the Matanzas seashore. Fishing was our Saturdays and church on Sundays. We had no idea that we were learning skills because we were having fun with Mom and Pops. B-Bug and I were the last of two of thirteen children. She being the oldest of the two of us meant Dad only had two children left to teach how to eat from and off the land. That lasted for only five years. Then our baby sister was born, and they had to do it all over again. That was okay, though, because B-Bug and I were like pros when Li'l Red came along. So she made us fourteen blended brothers and sisters.

When we got to the water's edge, there was an exhilaration of expectation because we knew the boat ride was next! Dad taught us by age five how to put the bait on our own hooks so we could just keep fishing. When our parents fished, it was on! They always brought home a bounty, and they always shared. Dad offered to cook the fish we caught for the churches we attended for Sunday's dinner on the ground. That is a tiny glimpse of the glory we lived in during the beginning. A small family farm, parents born in the depression, Dad being a war vet without benefits, and Momma being a Rosie the Riveter, bartender, and millwright and eventually getting her high school diploma (when she was almost sixty) and her CNA certificate. Julie, I, and Red, the last of a great many siblings born to faithful, strong parents who loved God and walked as best they could after Jesus. This is what happiness was.

Genesis 1:28

So Many of Us

Our parents raised us out in the St. Johns River. Momma and Daddy had fourteen of us young'uns to raise, so living out in the woods was the perfect place for us all. We had cattle intermittently, but Dad always had an abundance of pigs and chickens, along with many dogs and cats. Living on the farm meant there was always some kind of work to do, but being the second to the last had its childhood benefits—meaning it was a long time before I was introduced to the garden, the barn animal chores, or landscaping. Instead of all the outdoor stuff that went on daily, we three little girls at the end of the family train hung around in the kitchen under Momma's skirt, where we learned how to sew, cook, oh yeah, and clean. We were informed that dirt was the reason for cholera, and unless we wanted to die from that disease, we better accomplish our chores to the best of our abilities and with Clorox!

My oldest sister was twenty-seven years older than me, and my oldest brother was twenty-three years older. I came in at second to the last. Yep, I am the thirteenth child and the seventh daughter. There are six brothers and seven sisters. I kinda balanced the field being the only tomboy of the eight girls.

We lived in a two-story farmhouse in the middle of an everyone knows your parents town, in the beautiful state of Florida. There were woods everywhere that harbored beautiful clean lakes and springs for us to swim in after our chores were done, of course. Then there were also family chores such as babysitting for an older brother or sister, this being the most important because no one came before family. Blood is thicker than water, and no matter what, we took care of the family. If you were fortunate, you made friends with them, but that was a shifting scale. If you wanted to stay on the good side of life, you just made Momma and Daddy happy by being obedient and as proper as you could manage. My other sisters didn't have much difficulty with that, but I had already started following my big brothers around the farm. I saw how they were praised and appreciated (and sometimes paid!) for being strong, fierce, and getting dirty and greasy. I found my niche! Free from the confines of Clorox-clean and girly clothes, makeup, and hair products. Dad let them into his shop, where he kept all the loud power tools, fasteners, and walls full of stuff hanging and clanking when their hands disturbed them. The men in the family were so smart with their hands. They could build anything. They saw how I wanted to learn, and I was pulled under their protective wings.

Dad made sure we all had an education because he wasn't afforded that opportunity. When he was in sixth grade, his family, living in the middle of