Stories That Need Telling ... Part III

Stories That Need Telling … Part III

Vision of the Youth Center

These are the two visions I had since coming to the town I now live in near Republic, Washington. Shortly after arriving and renting a house in town, I was walking down the main street with my two boys. Looking around, I commented, “There’s nothing in this town for kids to do.”

We were passing a vacant lot at the time and the words had barely escaped my mouth when I saw a three-story building rise out of that lot. I was taken aback. It was the first full-blown vision I can remember having seen. I knew it was going to be a youth center.

We were going to the Nazarene Church at the time. One of the deacons there owned the building next to the vacant lot. I kept my mouth shut and waited to see what would happen. Within six months a committee had formed to work on getting a youth center for the town. A project was started on land next to the public school but a couple of the contractors involved absconded with a chunk of the money and left town. The partially finished building was finally condemned due to crooked politicians. The town still needed a youth center.

Finally, my friend the deacon bought the vacant lot, put together a group of Christians from various churches, kept the politicians out of it and began to build the youth center. I still waited to see what it would look like but I did help with the construction. It was all done with volunteer labor and donated materials. It stands there today just like I saw it in the vision in 1993.


The second vision was of a different sort. In 1995 I purchased a piece of property close to town and began to build a house on it. I put a camper on it and worked on the house when I could. I had one room built and was using it as a bunkhouse.

One morning I awoke with a strange feeling. I didn’t have my glasses on so what I saw was pretty blurry. Standing at the foot of the bed was a figure with arms outstretched. Somehow I knew it was an Indian princess. All she said was, “My name is Ippichuarly.”

During the brief encounter, I knew she was pleading for her people, who were in some distress. Of course, I asked Jesus to intervene on their behalf. By the time I found my glasses she was gone. I have checked with some of the local Indians who still have some of their language. The best interpretation I can get is that Ippi means “I am” and Chuarly is probably her name.

The northern half of Ferry County was stolen back from the Indians when gold was discovered here around 1900. It was all reservation prior to that. Unlike the other vision, this one has not had a satisfactory conclusion that I’m aware of but it did precede a notable dream. I will relate that next.

~~ Stay tuned for more … 

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