***Disclaimer: This blog is about spiritual warfare. I believe that anything that happens in the supernatural is either from God, or from Satan. Negative supernatural things that happen (what many people call ghosts or spirits, that are intended to scare), I call demons. I have always been sensitive to things in the supernatural realm, and I knew going into the Race that I would experience more things as we bring the Gospel to places where Satan has a tight grip. Read on for a story about this.***
Two days ago, I had the most joyful day I think I have ever had. I don't know what it was, but I just could not stop smiling all day. On our van ride to Patzibal, I stuck my head out the window, felt the wind on my face, and I just could not believe how blessed I am.
Yesterday was a totally different story. I just felt tired and disconnected all day. It started out as a relatively normal day: breakfast with the squad, then heading out for our ministry sites.
Our commute to Patzibal takes about an hour and a half, with two micros (packed 15 passenger vans), and riding up the mountain in the back of the truck. When we get there, we go straight to the school to teach English for an hour and a half.
The classroom that Josh and I teach in was locked for some reason that day, and the teacher was nowhere in sight. About half of the class had already gone home (or had not even come to school that day to work with their parents in the market), so we sat down with the 7 or 8 kids on the steps outside. We taught them Father Abraham, sang Head Shoulders Knees and Toes, and reviewed numbers and times. We decided to play and hang out after that, since we didn't have any classroom tools available. I gave some of the kids piggyback rides, and we played a circle tag game.
Soon, the other classes let out, and Christin came straight across the courtyard towards me. "Hey Jen, you are spiritually sensitive, right?" "Yeah." "Will you come to this room and tell me what you feel?"
I followed her to the first grade classroom. When I walked in, I immediately felt extremely heavy and oppressed. I felt drawn to the dirty orange and black tiled floor, like there was no place to go but down. The desks were all empty, the window broken, and the curtains hung limply in the breeze. I felt like I was not welcome there, just deeply sad and heavy. I couldn't wait to get out of the room.
(Photo by Emily Chant. The classroom is to the right of this photo)
We walked in the other classrooms, but I didn't feel anything in them, just lingering feelings from the first grade room. I sat on the steps in front of the room, trying to shake the feelings. As I sat there, I felt it glaring at my back. It hated that we were there, and it was growling at me. I had to get up and move.
Christin said that when she and Moriah were teaching in that room, they felt the heavy oppression. We talked about coming back down after we painted at the clinic, to pray over the room. We prayed then, and I felt like it was losing its grip, but still trying so hard to hang on.
The clinic is on the side of a mountain, and overlooks the villiage, including the school. All day, I kept looking down at the roof, and I could feel it taunting me. The oppression clung to me, and I tried to be happy, but it was almost like a shallow happy. I knew it was waiting for me, just down the hill.
After we finished up at the clinic, we headed down to the school, for what most of the group thought was to play spike ball. I had not properly communicated what was going on, and how strongly I felt about it, so many of the group did not realize what lived there.
As we approached the school, my stomach was getting more and more upset. I knew what I was walking back into, and sometimes that can be kind of scary. When we got there, they set up the game, and began to play.
I sat on the steps alone, feeling extremely uneasy. I kept quiet for about 10 minutes, getting more and more frustrated that we weren't praying over the room, and that everyone else seemed ok and that they were having a good time. I wanted so badly to say something, but something was preventing me from speaking up. It was like an awful whisper in my ear, saying, "Don't say anything. They want to play their game. You are just being stupid. You can't do anything about it."
Finally, I was able to burst through that, and it was a little like word vomit, but I said, "I'm sorry, guys, but I feel like we really need to pray over this room. I didn't want to ruin your game, but it is really bothering me. Can we please pray?" I was almost in tears at this point.
The group stopped, and came over to the room to pray. It was locked up at this point, so we lined up along the wall, and placed our hands on the wall and window. Twelve of us began to cast out the presence in the name of Jesus, and as I was praying, I got a picture of bright white light, descending on the room. As the light came down, the presence was sucked into the ground. As soon as I saw this, a peace washed over me.
"How do you feel right now, Jen?" "I feel alot better. Peaceful. Thank you."
They went back to their game, and I sat back down on the steps in front of the room, still feeling peaceful. God kept telling me, over and over, "I am here. I am here. I am here." I also felt like Jesus was standing behind me, in the doorway, with his arms against the sides of the doorway. The kids will be protected, and it won't be allowed back in.
This area of Guatemala is steeped in Mayan tradition, and we recently found out that there is a place near where we are working in Patzibal that is an altar where they have done and maybe still do sacrifices. Spiritual warfare is everywhere, but it is especially heavy here, where some practices openly welcome demonic forces.
Later that day, I felt alot better, but still had lingering tiredness. At the end of the day, the squad gets together for a time of worship and teaching. As we sat down for squad time, LaShondra told the squad that we would be talking about spiritual warfare. What??? I hadn't talked about what had happened to anyone but my team, so it was weird/great that we were discussing it the same day. My teammates caught my eye, and I was like, I know, right?
We talked about knowing how the enemy works, including physical and emotional attacks. He comes to steal, kill, and destroy. He wanted to steal my joy that day. He wanted to steal the joy from the students at the school, and from us as we came to bring Light and Life to the village.
We also talked about the power and the authority that we have been given to overcome his schemes. We can overcome emotional attacks by declaring truths that directly speak to the lie that is being told to us. For example, I sometimes struggle with social insecurities, and feeling like people put up with me because they have to. When I feel these lies coming on, I repeat to myself, "I am chosen. I am a daughter of the King. I am royalty. I have family and friends that love and care for me."
Our words carry so much power, over ourselves and over others. The idea that we can directly change someone's life just by the words that we speak is crazy powerful. We can also use our words to claim the authority that we have been given over Satan and his demons. When we prayed over the classroom, we demanded that it be banished in the name of Jesus Christ. As we said these words, the demon had to leave. We also talked about how our tone makes a big difference, too. There is a tangible difference in someone's authority when they speak timidly, and when they claim their authority.
So, I write this not to scare anyone, but to illustrate the power that we have been given. I have been scared from experiences like these for many years, but I am learning now what it looks like to walk in that authority. I have a feeling that this will be one of my major areas of growth this year. To live in peace and joy, rather than in fear, and to claim my authority as a daughter of the King.
And to think that this is only month one of the Race. Crazy awesome, right? 🙂
