By Kenneth E. Hagin
"A few folks have slightly gotten to the sting of that authoriity, yet ahead of Jesus comes back, there is going to be a complete corporation of believers who will stand up and with the authority that's theirs, ...and they'll do the paintings that God meant they need to do.
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Extra resources for Authority of the believer
And no school. Only the school of the truck as he taught me decimals in Arkansas and early algebra as we waited for the cool night to come so we could cross Death Valley. He sketched out geometry for me in the firm sand of the lowtide beaches of the Oregon coast just as Euclid had on the shores of the Aegean. Botany was a daily fare. And history and literature and whatever else there was. In two years I had finished far, far more than I would have learned in a high school. And what I did not understand of what he taught was not important, the literal understanding.
He raised his arms to the stars. "Be thou my good," he said, not to the stars he gestured at but to vaster intelligences. I was frightened. And not frightened. Thrilled, rather. Enamored. He was marvelous, if baffling, but attuned to regions beyond me, I was sure. I had faith. "Go pee," he said. He helped me into my bunk in the truck and told me my nighttime story. Not that it was always a tale; sometimes it was history or theories of bird migration and suchor poems. Sometimes he sang. But from the beginning of time, my time, he had always been there to tell me something.
They played hard and sometimes a team would win and a new game would start. I watched carefully for nearly an hour, coming closer, until I was noticed. " the tallest boy asked me. " "I don't know how," I said. " "It's easy," he said. " He pushed the ball at me very hard and it bounced painfully off of my fingers. I picked the ball up. "Shoot," he commanded. I lofted the ball as best I could to where the basket should have been. "Terrific," he shouted. "Great shot. " So we began. But with or without a true hoop, I could not play with them.