We are on the frontline of a battle. Each day the attempts of our enemy are stronger and increasingly widespread. We are hated right now. Hated by Satan, and he’s making in known.
To explain what has truly been going on I must recap the last few days. One of our squad leaders, Katie, spent the previous weekend and part of the week with us. Before she left on Wednesday morning she told us of a vision she had been given. In the vision she saw us, team BattleCry, in Conocoto and we were working separately. We were doing ok, but then the six of us came together, and when we did we became a super-force, claiming this place for Christ. So Thursday, when our schedule became unexpectedly open we took the opportunity to come together and spend hours in prayer and worship. We cried out and declared this church, town and country for the Lord. Satan wasn’t happy. The part of Conocoto where the church is located is known for being filled with alcoholics, drug addicts, the greedy and criminals. The people are in Satans pocket, or at least he thinks so and he’s not willing to let them go easily. So he did what he thought would be most effective, try to sway each one of us into a place of doubt, sadness and anger.
On Friday every one of us woke up feeling under the weather in some way. Whether it was nausea or stomach issues it was annoying and distracting but we pressed on. Later that afternoon we were walking down the street having a worship and prayer parade, with Pinky, our ridiculously faithful adopted Ecuadorian dog leading the way. During a joyful rendition of Oh Happy Day the squeal of tires brought us to attention as we watched Pinky get hit by a pickup truck. In terror Pinky went running back to the church leaving us on the curb in the shock and panic of what we had just seen.
Saturday brought with it uneasiness. It was our day off and we were supposed to have a fun day in Historic Quito, but there was this repugnant air of selfishness and entitlement that caused us all to remain guarded. We got back to the church an hour late that night while the worship team was having a meeting. We tiptoed in to drop our bags off then walked across the street to get snacks. An hour later after the worship team had dispersed and we were settling in for the night Vanessa, our Ecuadorian mom came running into the church, panicked. Right outside of the shop where we had just bought our snacks she was held up at gunpoint and she had bravely chosen to run.
By sunday the sickness continued and I’ll admit, I had a bit of a bad attitude, although I didn’t know why. I partnered with Meg to teach Sunday school that afternoon and I ended up leaving tears, while Meg finished the day in Hyperventilating sobs. Our heads were being filled with lies and sadness. Consuming lies and sadness. So Sunday night we decided to stay up in one hour shifts to cover the night in prayer. My shift started at 4am. When Lauren tapped me I woke with a start and my breath was taken away. Before setting in to pray I decided to visit the Bano (aka bathroom) which is outside in the shopyard of our pastors side business. Going outside in our neighborhood at that hour is scary, but when I closed the door of the bano and was all alone that fear grew tenfold. There were whispers. Real whispers flying around the bano like paper planes, whispers I couldn’t understand. I ran back into the church and tried to rationalize what had just happened, I knew I wasn’t crazy, so I prayed.
But while Satan is trying overtime to consume us right now we know that God’s hand has been protecting and healing in every step and that the victory is His. Our dog Pinky, although traumatized for 24 hours WASN’T HURT, Vanessa wasn’t shot or even robbed, we were able to evangelize to a group of hippies in a Quito park, we are becoming closer as a team and finally dealing with frustrations left unsaid for far to long and Meg is finally going to be able to pursue healing.
This year we’re doing a great work in the name of God so Satan is always going to try to fight against us, filling our heads with the fear, doubt sadness and anger. But here in Conocoto we’re learning how to fight back.
