Peter and Rebekah Laue - 965 Cloud Cap Avenue - Pagosa Springs, CO 81147 USA

Home     |     Sitemap     |     Contents

The Stone Table at Maagan


Hello, Dear Friends!

Thank you for sharing your journal entries, Peter. Through sharing your experiences in Israel we are able to be a part in a small way. For a long time I wanted to go to Israel. Now, I know it would have to be a God thing for me to consider going. But the trip is not the point. The point is that we be in His will, going where He wants us to go and being about His work. The waters of the Pool of Bethesda were stirred for you and there was a man to help you into the healing waters at the right time.

We have known you for about 10 years now and have watched the Lord's hand at work in your life, bringing new levels of understanding to share with others.

When we first met you, you represented the gentle teacher showing us how to put His words on the walls, and how to love others unconditionally. And that has never changed. But through time, He became the Lion in you, bold, charging through the forests of our minds to teach us to overcome. Then, you became the bold warrior, holding up the sword of Righteousness for all to see. And we bravely stood on your coffee table and declared that we are warriors also. We excitedly await to see what He has shown you next. Lamb to Lion to Warrior!!!

I can see in my mind's eye the House of God by the Lake in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. What must be happening in that living room?! The next time we visit, there will be a new anointing, a new revelation. We anxiously await!

His Warrior Bride,
Barbara Boyd


This manuscript is the gift of many saints who offered themselves freely to bring these words and pictures to you. Some are named, but most are invisible to the naked eye. They are engraved on the tablet of God’s heart and a part of a beautiful and eternal tapestry. However, the Holy Spirit prompted the author to include a letter from Stacy, the editor, as a part of the acknowledgement. Stacy is an English teacher and has skills this scribe does not have. She offered to prune and polish the text and promised not to touch its “heart.” The raw text was turned over to her with great joy, gratitude, and confidence. The finished product glows with the Father’s Heart.

There was a lot of correspondence between the scribe and his editor. Each of Stacy’s letters is a treasure. The scribe wants the reader to meet this lovely lady by reading one of them. It will set the stage for the book and inspire hope in those who have lost hope.

Those who are holding a hanging rope, a loaded gun, or suicide pills in their hands or thoughts will be able to place them in God’s Hands. Yes, there is more hope in Stacy’s letter than there is in all the pills and all the booze in the world.

November 12th, 2005

My Dearest Peter,

I've so much I want to express to you. I've begun this message several times, only to begin again. I'm happy that we'll soon have an opportunity to sit together. Perhaps we'll talk a great deal; perhaps we'll spend a good deal of time in silence together. I don't think it really matters, because we know one another's hearts.

One thing I do want to say now is that I don't have a clear idea about my place in God's plan. Since He began to bring the two of us together two years ago with Mom's visit to Pagosa Springs, I've become a different person. While Mom and Kelly were first sitting in your living room, I was in the hospital -- a mental ward similar to what you describe in the manuscript -- under 24-hour suicide watch. I had taken so many pills that I was unable to speak clearly. Everyone I trusted was gone. I had effectively pushed them all away. From that point to this is like the span of a lifetime.

When I went into treatment in May of this year, I kept your words close to my heart. You assured me that I was not going into that place -- yet another mental ward -- alone; Jesus was going AHEAD of me. Not just with me, but AHEAD of me. That reassurance came straight from the Throne of God. I couldn't have gone without it. I couldn't have stayed without it. I hated every second I was there, with the exception of a number of very early morning meetings with Jesus.

The treatment center is actually a sprawling ranch house just north of Lubbock. There are tennis and basketball courts, a swimming pool with a waterfall on the grounds. All of that was lost on me. I hated it. I especially hated being a "patient," being treated as a "case," and a typical one, at that. From the second I entered, everyone there saw me as a "typical addict" in every respect, except that I was perhaps sicker than most. Everything I said was met with quiet condescension, with a patronizing response meant to "calm me down" and bring me to an awareness that I was in a hopeless, helpless state. Every word I spoke was assumed to be an attempt to manipulate and deceive.

I shared a room with a precious lady named Jeanie, a soft-spoken, Christian grandma, who spent hours sitting with me while I wept and who daily invested her own limited energy in convincing me to remain in that facility while I ranted and fought and cursed. My emotions were raw and completely unpredictable. Physically, I was sick and exhausted; spiritually, I despaired.

The first time I left a message on your recorder, I had just had my first early morning meeting with Jesus, one that marked the beginning of a fork in the road. I found a copy of The Message Bible (coincidence?) there, and clung to it as to a life preserver.

I awoke that morning around 3:00AM, and began reading and writing and praying and crying. Just as the sun began to rise, I walked out past the fence line into the pasture, weeping and calling to God. I fell to my knees, and in a heap on the ground, said, "FINE!! I'M HERE! I'M BROKEN AND THERE'S NOTHING LEFT! I CANNOT DO THIS! WHAT IS IT YOU WANT?!"

For a moment -- just a moment -- I felt Jesus. For just a moment, I felt His presence. No words, just His presence and the knowledge that He would move me, He would speak for me, He would show me the Truth. I could TRUST Him. Since that morning, every day has been a process of leaving more, and more of the old Stacy behind and coming to know the new Stacy – Resurrection Life Stacy. I've been moving out of fear, like shedding an old, dry, dead layer of skin.

I haven't understood it. I've just turned my eyes to Him and confessed that I TRUST HIM. I TRUST HIM to provide the money we need to live. I TRUST HIM to protect us from those who would attack us. I TRUST HIM to recreate my marriage in the image of Christ with His bride. I TRUST HIM to protect and heal my children. I TRUST HIM to protect me from the obsession and compulsion to use drugs. I just TRUST HIM.

As I was reading the manuscript, all of this came together for me. My spirit bears witness to the truth of God's revelation to you. Those little, “white stones” began to form a pattern when I read,

“This is for My son Peter, who must know My Love for him. Never to be separated again! Never to be disappointed in Him again! No longer dust, no longer clay, but now spirit, one with Him in joyous COMMUNION forever.

My trust is not misplaced. He allowed me to read your revelation first, an undeserved honor and measure of Grace that has not escaped me.

These words really are for His daughter, Stacy, who must KNOW His Love for her, and as you point out, it is a KNOWING. It is CHRIST IN US that is renewed through communion, and it is only through CHRIST IN US that we live.

How sweet, how sweet.

When I wrote that the manuscript is for a "select few,” I was thinking in terms of the moment. Others will hear. Others will KNOW. Others will be drawn out of that wasteland and into His Light and Warmth and Strength.

Yes, we will battle, but we will KNOW that the battle is won, that no further sacrifice is needed; no further sacrifice will EVER be pleasing to the Father. It is done, and I don't have to have a clear idea about my place in God's plan, because He carries me with Him. I need only bask in His Love.

I love you, Peter Rabbit.


Share this Page
Back Next

Stone Table Main

Sitemap    |    E-mail Peter and Rebekah    |    Guestbook

All writings by Peter, the Lord's Scribe and Storyteller and all paintings by Rebekah, the Lord's artist are copyright free.