A few weeks ago, in Costa Rica, I had the privilege of participating in hospital ministry. We split into smaller groups of three or four, in my group I had Karen & Paz (the coolest tico ever, with a British accent). All the groups would go to one floor and split up to pray for patients. The day started off bad, as soon as we got in the van I began feeling sick. My stomach was in knots and it felt like someone had stuck a knife right in my gut.
I thought it would stop once we were out of the van, I was wrong. Not only did I feel sick but my attitude was out of hand as well. I was grumpy about some team stuff that had gone on that week and not being very smooth about it. Little did I know that this was a swat from the Devil himself. I’ve never experienced and recognized something as spiritual warfare in myself. Don’t get me wrong, I wage war with Satan every day…but this time it was physical and stifling.
Satan was pissed. My team was on its way to pray for the sick. Possibly a foot in the door for countless individuals. God was doing a mighty work through us that day, it only makes sense that he would attack one of us. I pushed through the pain and just had to visit the lady’s room, but continued praying (mostly silently <–we’ll get to that later) for various patients and a room full of nurses.
We met so many beautiful people. Every room we entered into was different. One room we went into was full of hope and anticipation. The next was deeply saturated in fear and pain. Even though their ailments were not contagious, their feelings of despair were. I walked out of each room heavier than when I walked in.
The one that affected me the most was a room full of sadness. This was Tatiana’s room. She could not have been much older than me. She was out of her bed and sitting in the corner, looking out the window. When we approached her she looked up and gave a somewhat apologetic smile.
She was beautiful, but all I could see when I looked at her was pain. Her eyes were clear and piercing, but completely full. I felt like I was looking straight into her soul. My heart ached, I longed to just hug her and tell her it would be okay and that Jesus wanted to hold her.
I experienced all of these emotions without even knowing what was wrong with her.
Paz asked her name and what she was there for. She responded with eyes full of tears, but with an almost content smile. She explained that she had just had a miscarriage. She just lost her baby, 12 weeks in. She also said she had peace. She knew that her baby was with Jesus and she was okay. She was clearly hurting, probably physically and emotionally. When it came time to pray for her I froze.
This happened almost every time we prayed. I felt inadequate. If you’ve ever heard me pray, you probably know that I don’t really sound like others. My prayer time with God is a lot like a conversation with an imaginary friend. I don’t always close my eyes, its not pretty and I don’t say Lord God, Father on High, Father God or Daddy.
My prayers more often than not start off like, “Hey God,”. I’ve grown into that. It took me a long time to see him as someone on my team and now that I do, that’s how we converse. I think that is something he enjoys about our relationship. It’s not for everyone and I don’t look down on people who can put those pretty prayers together, but for me it’s just noise.
So as these two lovely teammates of mine were praying for all these ladies Satan creeps in and tells me my prayers are inadequate. My words are weak and not good enough. I believed him, I worried that the women surrounding me would think less of me. I believed that the patients would be annoyed with me. That I would be doing a disservice, by allowing myself to pray instead of one of them.
Spiritual Warfare reared its ugly head in a few different ways that day. I want to end this by saying then I broke through and healed the sick with my prayers and my stomach pain went away. That would be false. I let Satan win, he shut me up. A few teammates and a Squad leader prayed over my stomach somewhere during the day. I think my doubt and attitude kept me from receiving healing and then as soon as we were done at the hospital, it was over. Convenient. (not)
HOWEVER, it is a lesson learned. Every time I’m prompted to pray now, I think of Tatiana’s face and I realize that my words do have power and I need to stomp out the Devil and his lame tactics.
If you are one of my faithful prayer warriors this is something I’d really appreciate prayer for. – Boldness.
Also, I have a deadline coming up. I’m just gonna be upfront about it. I need about $4000 by April 1st. I have no doubts that God knows where its coming from. Any and all amounts help. Pray about it. (: Let Me Know.
