Ilsa

My dear friend and sister Andi Wendel
is out in Guatemala right now, serving as a squad leader for the
October 2009 World Race Squad. This is a blog she posted today that I have to share with you…
because it’s a powerful depiction of the fact that God’s DNA is made up
of restoration and redemption, and an example of how He is going to the
darkest places of people’s lives through us as His Bride… all so that
people can experience love, freedom, and grace to KNOW Him.

 

Hope you can take a minute to read:

 

This
young lady is mentally handicapped. Her name is Ilsa. She is 26 years
old. She lives in an orphanage that resembles hell. She sees in the
spiritual realm. There is a battle raging in and around her.

 

We were there only to clean the grounds yesterday. But I could
feel the Spirit leading me to the girl’s dorm. I walked into the main
room of the girl’s dormitory at the orphanage, which looks like a 1940s
psych ward at a creepy hospital. There are two old metal school desks
at one end of the room. A chair in the absolute center of the room. And
a TV barely hanging onto the wall at the opposite end. There was one
person in the whole dorm. It was Ilsa. She was standing about 4 feet
from the chair looking directly at it. Frozen. Tormented.

 

I walked in very slowly. She turned and saw me. She immediately
started backing into the corner, terrified of me. (Note that we have
been here before and have met her before. She knows me and has hugged
me and played with me before). Not yesterday. She backed away abruptly.
I stopped, dropped to my knees, and laid my palms open before her. She
still backed away.

 

She got to the wall, and positioned herself directly under the TV,
facing the chair still. I stayed kneeling on the floor about 5 feet
from her. I started to pray. In English and in the Spirit. Nothing.

 

I started crying. I couldn’t help it. She had such fear all over
her. Her eyes kept darting around the room. She was seeing tormentors.
I kept praying. I started singing. I was sensing sexual spirits.
Harassing spirits. It was awful. I was in pieces before her. She just
kept staring, eyes darting. 

 

I said, in English, ‘God loves you.’ She shook her head, ‘no.’ I
choked up. I said it again, in English. ‘God loves you.’ Again, a
certain head shake, ‘no.’ I said it again, ‘GOD LOVES YOU.’ And again,
a head shake. 

 

I felt led to get up– go to her. Slowly. Very slowly. Very
humbly, low, peacefully, gracefully. She hesitated. I started singing.
She stayed. I moved a little closer. She shook her head. I prayed in
the Spirit. I cried out. PEACE! IN THIS ROOM IN JESUS’ NAME! I sang. 

She let me come closer. I reached out my hand, palm up, slowly.
She shook her head. I waited. Sang. She looked up at me. Something was
breaking. Leaving. I reached my hand closer. She shook her head more. I
couldn’t wait any longer. I rested my hand on hers. And an outpouring
of the Spirit came off my tongue over her in tears and song. She
started to cry. I kept praying peace. I stayed beside her for a long
time.

 

Finally, something disarmed. She calmed. I felt a release. The
atmosphere changed. Ilsa started to move, not frozen anymore. Another
girl walked into the room. She started talking to me and Ilsa– looked
at me and made the hand motion for, ‘she’s crazy,’ to me– and my heart
broke even more. I yearned to know enough Spanish to say, ‘yes, but she
sees more clearly than the rest of us do.’ I could only get out, ‘yes,
but…’ with some hand motions signifying more.

And I approached Ilsa again. Had my palms out once again, and she
received me. Came to me. Hugged me. Clutched me. And clung to me. She
smiled.

 

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