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Do you know anyone who:
1. Is glib and superficially charming?
2. Is proud, even grandiose?
3. Is prone to boredom and in need of constant stimulation?
4. Is a pathological liar?
5. Is manipulative and deceitful?
6. Lacks in appropriate guilt or remorse?
7. Tends to have shallow emotions?
8. Lacks empathy?
9. Doesn’t mind mooching all the time?
10. Has poor self-control?
11. Lacks realistic long-term goals?
12. Is impulsive?
13. Is irresponsible?
14. Never apologizes?
If so, you may have a sociopath on your hands! Marion Trent, who was once married to a sociopath, has put together a remarkable website which discusses sociopathy in detail. Visit http://www.sociopathicstyle.com/traits/classic.htm for a complete list of traits.
One of the key components of sociopathy is a loss of empathy. Sociopaths can’t feel what other people feel. They lack that vital heart-to-heart connectability. I don’t know about you, but this makes me want to cultivate empathy. Here are some things we can all do to encourage the growth and development of this important trait:
1. Start with yourself. Increase awareness of your own emotions.
2. Use reflective listening; when someone speaks, use eye contact and repeat back to them (avoiding acting like a parrot) what you heard them say.
3. Intentionally reach out to children, the elderly, and others you might naturally ignore.
4. Choose good role models; people learn by imitation. Jesus is the top pick.
5. Follow Jesus’ advice to do unto others as you would have others do unto you.
6. Avoid exposure to violent media; constantly witnessing acts of aggression and hostility can birth the same response in us.
Most of all, ask for a new heart, “a heart of flesh,” for God promises that He will, “put My Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statues,” Ezekiel 36:26.
 The Vomit Stuff . . . actually, 17 days to be exact.
Why? The Bible gives this reason: “The whole creation groans,” (Romans 8:22).
I’ll fill in the blanks: In an attempt to treat a medical problem involving my digestive tract, I spent a period of time ingesting nothing but an enteral nutrition formula. The thick yellowish liquid consisted of pre-digested nutrients, relieving my system of the need to process food, almost like an I.V. In some cases this can be curative.
The problem with the formula is that because it’s predigested, it tastes remarkably like vomit. I could add a little aspartame, making the whole business almost tolerable, but still I watched flesh evaporate as if my bones were being vacuum-sealed by skin.
In the middle of the 17 days of vomit, I asked my pastor to please arrange an anointing service for me. She quickly gathered the elders for a Sabbath-afternoon service in a little classroom in our church. I found it very difficult to admit my need, to spill out with tears my suffering. I didn’t want to be weak and needy. I wanted to be strong, resourceful, and brave. But God said, “Is anyone among you sick? Then he must call for the elders of the church and they are to pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord,” (James 5:14). In my distress I surrendered to this loving command of God. And I’m glad I did. Elders cried for me, laid their hands on me, and for deep emotion choked on their prayers. It felt so humbling . . . and so good. Through their touch, I felt God’s touch. Through their prayers I heard God’s voice.
I’m uncured. Neither the treatment nor the anointing gave me back the health I once had. This doesn’t mean I’ll die, or even stop working and be bedridden. It means I’ll slow down a little and, for maybe the rest of my life, suffer a bit with a painful, distressing disorder. It has been a cruel blow, but “the cruel blow that blights the joys of earth will be the means of turning our eyes to heaven.” Ellen White, Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, p. 10.
Anointing proved that while perhaps uncured, I’m not unloved. Physical distress drove me to confide in my brethren. I wanted to lick my wounds in private, but God said, “Be honest, trust them, they’ll care.” I did and they did. This resembles my dance with God. I withdraw in pain, but He says, “Cast yourself upon Me.” When I do, the sweet love of heaven fills my soul and puts the pain in perspective.
It would be a really good thing if we stopped throwing punches at God long enough to receive comfort from the very One we tend to blame. There are many good books on apologetics; brilliant minds eloquently defend God’s goodness in the face of suffering. But nothing answers the “Why, God?” questions as well as faith in His goodness, expressed by simple trust in the face of persistent pain.
 Some of God's Beauties The first of three weekends speaking at the Michigan Adventist Women’s Retreat came off miraculously, beautifully, stressfully. Here is the unvarnished, authorized account of my journey:
I hopped on a plane Friday morning, got cancelled, bumped, and delayed, rented a car, got lost in Detroit, then encountered an accident which shut down the road. Arriving at the retreat in the nick of time, I spoke in my travel clothes, wild-haired but happy to be there.
On Sabbath I walked through women’s retreat wonderland. Everywhere I looked I saw flower arrangements, pretty soaps, fluffy desserts and all the other little things women do to make these retreats special. Heaven loves their tireless efforts! God bless you Janie, Casey, Monica, Renee, and the rest.
All was well so far. A little stress, but a lot of joy.
Sunday jolted me out of my dream when I realized that my 11:30 A.M. talk barely gave me time to get to Detroit by the time my plane left. I preached my last sermon and literally waved and walked out of the hall, beelining to my car. I knew that if I drove 70 I’d make it; traffic jams, speeding tickets, and detours would ruin my chances. All seemed to cooperate with my plan until the skies opened and coughed out the slipperiest, wettest sleet imaginable. Over the next three hours I sat bolt upright, peering out my window like a fighter pilot, trying not to let the many accidents and flashing blue lights unnerve me. There were at least six wrecks. The sleet lobbed one car off the road and upside down; it mashed a motorcycle into the grill of another. A little voice said, “Slow down. That could be you.” But I had a plane to catch.
Suddenly, as if supernaturally caused, my rented car began to jackknife. All my winter driving expertise did nothing to keep me in my lane. I jerked back and forth, snaking wildly across the highway until the back of my car finally spun around, flinging me toward the cement guardrail. Mercifully, I came to a screeching halt within inches of it, facing the oncoming traffic. Humiliated, I crept back into the (fortunately slow-moving) stream of cars and drove under 50 the rest of the way.
I’m not big on saying God did things as if I know exactly when heaven intervenes and when natural law and chance bear sway. But this event had the signature of heaven. My rental car remained unscratched, my body unharmed, but my ultra goal-driven, sometimes obstinate character got a good smack right where I needed it. Miraculously I made it to my flight in the nick of time; but missing it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. When will I learn, people? I’m so glad to know that “whom the Lord loves He chastens, and spanks every daughter whom he receives,” Hebrews 12:6, JLEV.*
A few announcements:
-My tenth book, 13 Weeks to Peace, has just rolled of the presses of Pacific Press Publishing Company. I’ll be sending a separate email with details.
April schedule:
April 1-3, 8-10 and 15-17- Michigan Adventist Women’s Retreat at Camp Ausable in Grayling, MI.
April 23 and 24- Resurrection celebration and concert, Philadelphia
April 30- Writing workshop for youth at Lake Nelson Church in New Jersey
*Jennifer’s Life-Experience Version.
A Southern California University professor named Robert Thayer assessed 37 people wearing pedometers over a 20-day period. “We found that there was a clear and strong relationship between the number of steps they took and their overall mood and energy level,” he said at the conclusion of the study.
Read: Walking makes us happy.
In 1987 an American psychologist named Francis Shapiro was walking in the park when she noticed that moving her eyes from side to side seemed to reduce the stress she was experiencing due to some disturbing memories. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, or EMDR, was born. Today over 25,000 mental health practitioners use a technique developed by Shapiro and others to help clients and patients overcome post-traumatic stress syndrome. I’ve tried forms of this with clients with good results, and plan on refining my technique further.
We’re not sure why EMDR works, but we do know that it helps move painful memories from the emotions to the thoughts. In other words, after EMDR, you don’t relive the memory any longer. You can remember it without re-experiencing it.
Lately the weather hints toward spring. A brisk walk on a day like today feels fresh and exhilarating. I’m prescribing now: Take a walk! Even if you’re not suffering from traumatic memories, take a walk. Especially if you’re working through a painful past, walk. Move your eyes over the horizon. Spot a bird flying above. Watch for crocuses at your feet. Scan the woods for a good trail. You may find it healing.
I remember a tense chat I had with my youngest daughter, who at about five years old became angry over some comment I made during dinner. She stalked off, planting herself on the couch with an ugly scowl. I walked over and began to speak to her softly, apologizing for the offense I’d caused, but she stolidly refused to forgive me. I began to speak of God’s forgiveness, reminding her that Jesus had prayed, “Father forgive them.”
“Do you think God forgave them?” I asked.
“Yes!” she scowled.
“Do you think God forgives me?”
“Yes!”
Kimmy knew her Bible.
“Then why don’t you forgive me?” I asked.
She leaned toward me, her blue eyes in spiteful slits, and hissed, “I’m not God!”
Kids say what they think; we learn to pretend. Pretensions stripped away, we’d echo Kimmy: “I’m not God, so I’m not going to act like Him.” But if we fully embraced God’s purpose for us, we’d sing a different tune. You see, God wasn’t just playing Creator when He made us. He was bringing forth an ingenious solution to a problem of cosmic proportions.
It all began when Lucifer led many of heaven’s angels in a devastating insurgency. War in heaven of all places! Although undefeated in a sense, the conflict left God with a gnawing problem; his reputation was tarnished through Lucifer’s libels. The smoke of battle still hung in heaven’s air when God purposed to make an order of being so much like Him that His own image would beam out of them like Powerpoint. “And God made man in his own image, male and female created He them,” Genesis 1:27.
Probe that “image” concept further, and one sees that God created us to be like Him in character. Character goes beyond behavior. In fact, “thoughts and feelings combined make up moral character” (RH, April 21, 1885). God created us to have an inner life like His own inner life; becoming like Him in character means thinking God’s thoughts and feeling the way God feels. Only then can behaviors consistently demonstrate His loving goodness.
So here we are. The great controversy between good and evil swirls around us, and rarely do we stop to consider the drama behind the veil of temporal life. But we were brought forth for bigger, better and more significant things that to grow up, work, eat, sleep, get married, have sex (hopefully in that order), and then have children who grow up, eat, sleep, get married, etc. all culminating in the slow decline of age, until life itself seeps out of us and our bodies are left to crumble before the onslaught of millions of mindless microorganisms whose sole purpose is to turn us into compost.
What purpose drives you—that of the composting crew or that of the benevolent Sovereign of metagalactic space? He calls you to bear His image, to become so much like Him that He can point to you and say, “Look at her and You’ll see Me.” Align your will to His, make His purpose your own. That’s my advice to you today.
Someone is asking, “But how??” I recommend the book Steps to Christ as primer on how to walk with God. Then you may want my “God’s Plan Purpose Statement” worksheet to help identify your particular calling and ministry. Email me and I’ll send it along.
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People tend to become what they think they are. Studies validate this, but so do common sense and experience. For instance, which one of us can’t remember a fidgety grade school lad who ended up designated the class “bad boy,” who then proceeded to fulfill his own label?
The psychologists of ancient Babylon understood this. When Nebuchadnezzar’s army brought back the young Israelite captives Daniel, Hannaniah, Mishael and Azariah they quickly changed their names to names that meant things like “command of the moon god” and “Bel’s prince.” Can’t you almost hear the Phds plotting? “Give them new names, get them to see themselves as Baal worshipers. Once we have their identity, we have their souls!”
Before you dismiss ancient Babylon as pagan, morally bankrupt, and unenlightened, take a look at the gods placed before our own young people. Our celebrity “gods” embody the same pagan principles, living lives of excess, selfishness, licentiousness and pride.
Humans imitate. For instance, Lady Gaga’s recent video “Bad Romance” has sparked a sharp increase in the sale of circle lenses—contact lenses that cover part of the whites of the eyes, making the eye look much bigger. Authorities fill the news with warnings of their potential for causing infections and even blindness.
We identify with, then imitate, our role models. This phenomenon manifests itself in families, especially between child and same-sex parent. Mother role models for daughter, father for son. Daughter tends to identify with mother, son with father. Thank God for this; it creates a wide channel for parents to pass on their values to the next generation.
But even the best parents can’t pass on to their children what our heavenly Father can pass on to us in terms of identity. The best humans can do is still human. God can promise us a completely new, holy, victorious identity “in Christ.”
One psychologist describes conversion as, “a change in which the self becomes identified with the sacred.”[i][1] Paul said it this way, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come,” (2 Corinthians 5:17). It’s my belief that we all have a place in Christ, a place we merely need to step into by faith. Then we can see ourselves in a new light—the light that streams from the heart of God, a loving Father who sees in His children endless possibilities.
Thinking on this issue of the need for a positive identity, I put together a simple worksheet that helps us grasp all that we are “in Christ.” Reply to this email if you’d like one.
This month:
Feb. 11 and 12- Love in the Last Days seminar Johnston, RI
Feb. 12- Concert @ Jacob’s Well coffeehouse in Burrillville, RI
Feb. 27- My birthday weekend—going to That’s Amore marriage seminar with my hubby!
[i] Kenneth Pargament, The Psychology of Religion and Coping, p. 248.
Mike regaled me with gifts this Christmas: a coat from Land’s End, new cookware, dress gloves, and, to top it off, a two-night stay at the Marriot in Lancaster, PA. I gasped when we pulled up—can we afford this?? Mike assured me that off-season rates made the hotel affordable, and we got “free buffet breakfast!” as he repeatedly said with a certain gusto. I think the conquestual nature of men makes finding good bargains feel like killing the Mastodon. I flashed on my father bringing home cheap, greasy, delicious food from the Flamingo Bar in Destin, Florida, reveling in the low price. Such men have one foot on the Mastodon’s neck and a chicken leg in their right hand. Or, in Mike’s case, a bran muffin.
Before we tasted a crumb of the buffet breakfast, though, we soaked up another perk: the hotel pool. It took a while for the underused hot tub to warm up, but once it did we had a nice bubble and a lovely chat with a man from Boston who turned out to be a pastor, missionary, and, like me, crusader for clergy abuse prevention. We knew so many of the same people, places and causes, that our talk conclusively proved the six degrees of separation theory. One example: a sister church of his rents from the Beverly, MA Adventist church where my daughter will be giving a concert this month.
The following day, Sunday, Mike and I laid out some loose plans: we’d hike, then shop, then eat at the Olive Garden, then check out a Christmas light show, then come back for more bubbly time in the hot tub and pool. Little did we realize that the hiking options stunk. Lancaster is Amish farm country, flat as a . . . . well, a corn field. Shopping was abysmal, too—it was religious, Sunday-keeping Amish country and almost none of their cute little shops were open! (See above root bear sign.) The (non-Amish) Christmas lights, for which we were supposed to pay $7 per car, were little more than a football field full of blow-up Santas and Walmart reindeer (see above). A break from the malfunctions came with the Olive Garden. Now I see the beauty of franchise. One always knows one will get what one expects.
As Mike and I enjoyed the predictably delicious eggplant, salad, and minestrone, we talked. It’s amazing how two people who’ve been in each others’ presence nonstop for thirty years can still find something to talk about, but we did. We counseled on interpersonal dramas, swapped opinions about people and events, and reminisced of times past.
To summarize: In this day of find-your-soulmate, I recommend marriage, where you make your soulmate. In times of it’s-just-not-working, I recommend marriage, where you work it out. When the mindset all around says, “Rich emotional fulfillment above all else, even if you have to divorce to find it,” I recommend marriage, because when you’re wrinkled and incontinent it will be very emotionally fulfilling to have the spouse of your youth look in your fading eyes and say, “I remember when you were twenty-five.”
Thanks, Mike, for the last thirty years. And the Christmas vacation at the Marriot.
Happenings:
A major Alison Brook tour will take place in New England this January and February. Come out for the blessing! See details at www.alisonbrook.com.
I’m working on a book, Jesus Psychology, due to be published by Pacific Press this spring. I’m also discussing with the staff of Hope TV the possibility of doing 13 shows based on the book. If you feel that the message of biblical inner healing needs more exposure, contact Hope TV and tell them you recommend me: Call 888-446-7388 or email Kandus Thorp at thorpk@hopetv.org
Dear Friends,
Today my 51 year-old brother completed the Cozumel, Mexico Ironman triathlon in 13 hours, 23 minutes, and 36 seconds. He finished 1069th among the nearly 2500 competitors and 50th in his class. The Ironman entails a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride and a 26.2-mile run. This was his first race; the fact that he sustained a compound tibia/fibula fracture 10 years ago heightens the achievement.
Wow, Scott. You’re amazing.
I remember you, Ironman, before you were Iron. Especially one scene replays in my mind: It’s about 1965 and we’re in an unremarkable yellow house on Eldridge Road in Aurora, Ohio. Lightening illuminates our faces as we watch a storm through the window. The thrill of wild weather opens our emotions and we talk late into the night—the wistful, vulnerable talk of two kids who trust one another with deep feelings. You reveal yourself to be emotional, sensitive, even spiritual. I can still see your wide brown eyes and the glow of your young skin, and hear your hoarse, happy voice. Finally the thunder rumbles into silence and our drowsy eyes close.
It seems that we woke, decades later, as adults. You towered nearly a foot over me, spoke an octave lower, and attracted all kinds of beautiful women and cushy corporate jobs. I watched from a distance as through the years you brokered your copious charm in exchange for affection, money, and praise. Nothing ever seemed enough, Ironman. You wanted something beyond what even your charmed life offered. Was this triathlon a way of acquiring that? If so, do you have it now? Our brother Stu that said you “labored mightily” at the end of the race. I panicked a little, thinking of my little brother keeling over, exhausted, on home stretch. What thoughts coursed through your mind as your strength waned? What emotions drove you beyond your breaking point? I recall you saying something about finding acceptance and love through the Ironman. What a strange juxtaposition—an Ironman who, like a young boy, craves love.
Here’s my wish that you’ll embrace the love that “never fails” even when we do (1 Corinthians 13); the love that softens the iron heart even when its melting point is beyond the heat of the Mexican sun.
This month:
December 3-4- Burbank SDA church, Chicago
December 11- Philadelphia, PA
December 18- Philadelphia, PA
December 19- Chestnut Hill Adventist church Christmas program, Philadelphia
December 25- Sermon, Philadelphia PA
Jennifer
www.jenniferjill.org
www.jennpen.com
www.jenniferschwirzer.com
www.youtube.com/user/jenniferschwirzer
www.facebook.com/jennifer.schwirzer
Meet Madison. She’s my daughter Alison’s dog, on loan to me until Alison finds a permanent residence. Someone abandoned her in a hotel room (not Alison, the dog), and a friend rescued her and gave her to Alison. The vet promises she’s a Chihuahua. Weighing all of four pounds and resembling a small cat with a baby fox’s head, she has rocked my world. Cuddly, fluttery feelings long dormant have revived. I find myself burying my face in her side, planting long kisses on her neck, and taking frequent snapshots of my “grandchild” (see above).
Last Friday night I found a wrapper from long-lost decon rat poison gel in my office. A wrapper, mind you. I surmised that Maddie had dredged it up from behind the heater grate where it lay in wait of a house mouse. The mouse has since gone to mouse heaven. Now Maddie appeared destined for dog heaven.
But strangely, she wagged and whirled just as friskily as ever, black eyes shining with health. I assumed she hadn’t eaten the gel at all. The next morning found Maddie begging for her morning walk, perky as Katie Couric. I banished my fears until later that day when she excreted an almost iridescent green (not Katie, the dog).
Now I began to search online for the facts of this type of poisoning. I learned that, “it causes death by interfering with the blood clotting mechanism. This leads to spontaneous bleeding. There are no observable signs of poisoning until the dog begins to pass blood in the stool or urine,” which takes several days because they have a certain amount of stored clotting factor. Once depleted, they bleed to death internally.
I could see we were on death row.
A rushed trip to the vet and $180 dollars later, Maddie found herself on prescription vitamin K. She’ll probably be fine but we have a month to wait for certainty.
Concurrent with the dog drama, I was reading Half the Sky by New York Times columnists Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. I could rattle on about this book, but let me distill: it chronicles the global oppression of women in three primary areas: sex trafficking, sexual violence, and unnecessary maternal death. It’s one of those books that bursts the western affluence-induced bubble and leaves a sensitive soul feeling impelled to sell one’s house and travel to Ethiopia with the proceeds, to die if necessary, but with a clear humanitarian conscience. I read things like: $9 billion a year would provide all effective interventions for maternal and newborn health to 95 percent of the world’s population, which “pales beside the $40 billion the world spends annually on dog food,” (p. 122). So while I spent $180 on my dog, five women in sub-Saharan Africa died in labor because they didn’t have the $40 needed to get a C-section. If left to my own devices, I’m able to torture myself into clinical depression with these kinds of thoughts.
But God’s Word shines a light on world poverty—a brighter light than even the most brilliant humanitarian luminary could shine. The One who will judge each person by what we did for the poor and suffering (Matthew 25) also said, “The poor will be with you always,” (Matthew 26:11). He then praised Mary Magdalene for wasting—humanly speaking–$40 thousand on a bottle of designer perfume, with which she soaked Him, head to toe.
From these compassing, comprehensive, somewhat-colliding facts of the Bible I get a simple message: Do all you can for the poor; but also care for those nearest and dearest with an extravagant, grateful love. Zoom out to take in the big picture, zoom in to attend to the small. Macro and microcosm alike matter to God, and to us when He indwells.
Maddie sits pensively as I write, staring out into the sunny front yard, hoping to spot a squirrel. Me, I’m planning to pour my life savings into the world’s chasm of need. Maybe I will move to Ethiopia someday. Maybe Maddie will come along.
Dear Friends,
I received a tortured call this evening. “Horrible things are happening, my life is coming unraveled,” the caller said, spilling out a litany of disasters that tangled financial loss, physical illness, family estrangement, and psychological despair.
“Your addiction is catching up with you,” I said. The dialog between the two of us had been protracted, painful and interspersed with angry telephone clicks when my frankness offended him. Now he wept brokenly.
“I know.”
“You must get help.”
“But I’d have to spend all my savings to go into rehab! Plus I’d have to tell people the truth! What would they think of me? And I can’t leave my job.”
“You’ll lose it all anyway if you don’t get help—money, loved ones, job. It’s your choice; leave it now for a time or lose it forever.”
He reminded me of captain afraid to leave his sinking ship, willing to ignore the sound of water rushing into the hull.
“Why can’t I just stay here and quit?” he asked.
“It happens sometimes,” I said, “but most of the time addicts must leave their environment to escape the triggers. Plus they must have the help of others.”
“Can’t I just pray?”
“Sure, go for it. But that’s what you did last week.”
I believe in prayer. I’ve known a few cases where people recovered from serious addiction without any human intervention. But most of the time a drastic change of environment is necessary, partly to help the addict realize their desperate condition. One of the markers of addiction is minimization; the addict underestimates the problem. He believes he can “quit anytime,” or cut back when things get “out of hand.” Most of the time, the addiction keeps him in the dark. Searing moments of realization come with consequences, only to be quenched again by the lie that everything is under control.
Under control is right, but not the way the addict thinks. The addiction has control of him, not the other way around. Paul said, “Do you not know that to whom you present yourselves slaves to obey, you are that one’s slaves whom you obey?” (Romans 6:16) He uses sarcasm here to make his point. When you give up your freedom, you lose your freedom. Duh.
And for this Jesus died? So that His children, His precious, image-bearing children, His fearfully, wonderfully made children, could riddle their brains and bodies with a soul-destroying poison or practice? Is this why He tasted death for everyone? So they could then drink, smoke, sex, and drug themselves to death all over again?
“I don’t matter,” you may say, “I’m a loser, I’m nothing, I’m worthless.” Momentary thrills and self-sabotage seem logical if we believe this. But God determines our value, which is equal with His Son. “He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:32) God could not have more forcefully declared our value; He gave His prized, precious, adored Son. Don’t you dare tell me you’re worthless.
We don’t belong to ourselves, so have no real right to destroy ourselves. We’re God’s property and self-destruction violates Him. Protect God’s child from the enemy, even when the child is you and the enemy is you. In other words, protect you from you.
Avoid addiction like the plague. Don’t use anything habit forming: alcohol, tobacco, caffeine, drugs, junk food, illicit sex, godless media. Use moderately what is good: food, exercise, social life, buying, recreation.
If you’re already addicted, agonize to enter the straight gate and do whatever it takes to free yourself. Go to Jesus as you are and tell Him you’re powerless. Pray for His guidance through the labyrinthine options of the mental health system. Get counsel from someone who has helped others. Get help from friends and loved ones. Seek anointing and special prayer from spiritual guardians. Most of all, cast yourself upon the mercy of the One who valued you enough to die for you. Amen.
Places I’ll be this month:
Oct. 1-3 and 8-10- Northern California Christian Women’s Retreat, Leoni Meadows Camp, Grizzly Flats, CA- I’ll be the main speaker, presenting The Word on Women.
Oct. 4-7- Olivehurst Adventist church, week of prayer. I’ll be presenting Jesus Psychology.
Oct. 29-30- Campus Ministries, Boston, MA. I’ll be presenting Jesus Psychology.
By the way, Alison will be performing in Robbinsville, NJ, Harrisburg, PA, Philadelphia, Reading, PA, Lockhaven, PA, Williamsport, PA and Williamstown NJ. Get more details by calling her at 267-664-6146.
God speed the right,
Jennifer
www.jenniferjill.org
www.jennpen.com
www.jenniferschwirzer.com
www.youtube.com/user/jenniferschwirzer
www.facebook.com/jennifer.schwirzer
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