I have been praying for a while about how to talk about this. I knew that eventually I would have to because frankly, the American church avoids it. Pretends it does not exist. And that gives it power and creates fear. And today when I was praying, the Lord whispered sweet words to me from a song that a friend of mine wrote a few years before she went home to heaven.
“Bring light to the dark where the devil has run. Teach it to the ones that are thirsty for truth…” (Missions, Nikki Baird Buchholtz)
So I think it’s time. Here are a few stories I want to share with you.
This blog is not about demons, it is about LIGHT we carry.
Carrefour, HAITI
We are having company over to our home tonight! The term home being used lightly; concrete blocks, barbed wire security system. We can offer a cup of rice, a spot on the concrete, and some bug spray to our guests. We keep it fancy here in Haiti.
We invited our three squad leaders over tonight for a time of prayer and prophesy with the 18 women that live in this concrete cinder-home. We wanted to pour into them since they do such an amazing job serving us. But the latest text update: “Lost….”
Being lost in the grimy, sludge filled streets of Carrefour, Haiti is not a fun experience. In the heat of the day the sludge starts to breed and you feel like you will never see the color green or smell nice things like gardenias or toasted marshmallows again. But our squad leaders were in a whole other arena. It was nine-o-clock at night. Our leaders were lost in the sludge streets of Haiti in pitch darkness.
Electricity gets turned on for maybe an hour every-other day. Most of the time it is in the middle of the night, causing a general household announcement; “POWER! Plug in while you can!” So there are no street lights or house lamps burning to guide their way to us. But we knew where they were. They were making the short trek that we make every day to visit the school we volunteer at, right near where another team on our squad was living. They were somewhere between that team and us.
One of the girls started saying, “We should just pop out and grab them.” Someone approached me and asked what I thought. “Uhhh…. Y’all know we are not allowed to leave the compound after sunset. It is not safe.” But those were our leaders out there…. The girls keeps debating and eventually we agreed that if we got a big enough group together we would be safe. They were only a little ways away and then we would have men with us. I agreed to go, being one of the team leaders, I thought I needed to go.
So with headlamps on our heads, we lined up hip to hip, arms linked like we were about to skip down the yellow brick road to see the wizard. Reality was that the only yellow in this road was from urine, but our minds were set. And the gate was bolted behind us.
We walked forward in unison, giggly because we were a bit nervous. The headlamps lit only about three feet of the grey muddy rocks right in front of us. We literally walked by faith and not by sight. I was on the left end of the line so I felt vulnerable and exposed, like you do when you sit at the end of a row at the movie theaters; nothing but open air to your left and no one to laugh with and or cling to when the movie gets intense.
As we approached our first right turn, my head lamp hit the base of a driveway. I turned my head from left to right to do a scan. And my head froze and so did my light, illuminating a human foot. I clutched the arm or the girl next to me, Morgan. All the other girls stopped confused. My light creeped up slowly to reveal the form of a thin man, crouching in the mud, wearing nothing but dirty white underwear.
I don’t think any of us were breathing at this point. What was he doing here in the dark? Did he need help? And then he started growling…. Low and guttural. Oh my sweet Jesus, this naked man is growling at us.
One word popped into my head; demon, demon with skin on. We were frozen in this surreal Hollywood-horror moment.
And then he lunged at us, snapping his teeth and clawing with thin bony arms. And we went nuts.
The ranks broke and linked arms pulled away to regain personal space so each girl could run. There were screams and even spontaneous bursts of scared female voices praying in tongues. I was running too, I went into scared little girl survivor mode. I was no longer a team leader or a fearless warrior for the Lord, I was a little girl flailing through darks streets with muddy toes. And as my body began to react (heart racing, ears pounding, palms sweating) I had these thoughts in the back of my mind telling me to stop.
What happened to all the preaching on who we are in Christ? Our authority over darkness? The power in the name of Jesus? Do you believe that at all….?
Crap Crap Crap. My body was screaming FLIGHT but the voice in my head was commanding me to FIGHT!
“Have I not commanded you; be strong, be very courageous.” (Joshua 1:9)
“But Jesus that is a demon?! You want me to go face to face with a demon!?!?”
And putting all my hope (that small mustard seed-sized bit of faith) on that voice in my head, I turned. Almost not believing my body was responding to that signal from my brain that could not have been very convincing.
Light traced muddy walls before settling on dark sunken eyes. And these are the word that I spoke;
“I am not afraid in Jesus name.”
It was not very convincing. My voice quivered and I was breathless. All signs pointed to “scared little girl”.
But I swear to you, that scary naked man stopped in his muddy tracks. And slowly, he backed away, like a snake retreating to his hole.
I was relieved and still breathless and wild feeling. But I began backing up to catch up with the girls, light still beamed on him tracking his retreat.
We eventually found our squad leaders, and boy, were they pissed that we left our house at night. Yeah, that was not a smart move and looking back I am not sure I was thinking. But I do know that I learned a lot from that encounter.
It was crazy that even though I was dripping with fear, when I stated I was not and then punctuated that statement with the name of Jesus, that demon possessed man backed off.
“Well of course he did you dope! That is what the bible says!”
Yeah, I knew all that. But I think the thing that shocked me was just that I felt like such a puny vessel. I was weak. I was scared. I was vulnerable.
In the moment to face my fears and be a big tough Bible-believing Christian I ran like a little girl. I am surprised I didn’t pee in my pants, but then I remember how little water I drank that month.
But you know what? It did not matter. God used me anyway.
Scared little girl, clumsy little girl, weak little girl, little girl…. HIS little girl.
As my headlight illuminated the skin that demon was hiding under, the light of God in me (without me lifting a finger) bore into the darkness with an eternal force.
And as my scared little girl voice shivered out the words, “I am not afraid…” I think that demon recognized within the layers of my weak little voice the same voice of the One that had defeated him, the One that has dominion over all of heaven and all earth. The voice of the same One that died and went to hell and snatched the keys to death itself, chucking them in the enemy’s face, “Game over, I win. It is finished. Bam.”
I think beyond what human eyes and ears can discern, even mine, this is what was spoken through my shaky voice;
“I AM…. not afraid. So you better be.”
The great I AM. It is not in His character to be afraid. Like ever. In fact, He IS love. And He Himself, with His perfect love, casts out all fear. And His voice can be heard within ours every time we have the courage to open our mouths and speak.
You see, once you are filled with the Holy Spirit, you are sealed. Marked. And no one can take that seal away. And to the forces of darkness it is as easy to see as the beam of a headlamp shining from your forehead. That is what we carry. In our homes, in our workplaces, in crazy traffic on 95 North, and on dark muddy streets in foreign countries.
Did you know that? Do you walk around acting like you know that? Believing it?
I heard Beth Moore tell this story a while ago about a young boy that went to her church that she has a real soft spot for. She talked about how this kid had a crazy intimate relationship with Jesus. Unlike a lot of us, he did not have an imaginary friend, he had sleepovers and play dates with Jesus. Jesus would hang out with him in his “bunkt bed” and he would wake up and tell his parents what Jesus had told him. And they would always been stunned. Their son would relate this biblical knowledge over cornflakes in the morning that only a seasoned pastor would have knowledge of.
“Jesus comes to me in my bunk bed and tells me stories. He is my friend.”
Beth relayed that one day he came to her disappointed.
“Jesus tells me I can use His words to fix people or to scare away monsters. He gives me God’s words. But I get so sad cause I speak them and they don’t sound like God at all. They just sound like me.”
Beth kneeled down and looked this little guy in the face and said, “Well sweet thing you listen to me. To you it may just sound like your tiny little voice, but you better believe that to the Devil it sounds like God Himself.”
Truth.
We need to know who we are, WHOSE we are. We are a product of our Maker. The same way I got my dad’s eyes or my mom’s calves, we inherit from our heavenly Father too. Physically, we are made in His image. But we also get traits like His sweet compassion and patience. And love that never envies or boasts or ever fails. And you and I? We got our Daddy's voice. Because we are His kids, royalty, and because He is the King we get His heavenly authority too. Authority to watch broken bones align and heal, to call out to a storm (“You, chill out!), and yes, authority to look demons in the face and say back off. That is what we carry, what you carry; light and power in its purest form.
Believe it. Live like it. Even if your voice shakes.
(Written on the mirror this week in the girl's bathroom at church. #Jesusiseverywhere)
“Courage is being scared to death- But saddling up anyway.”
(America’s Favorite Cowboy)
Amen, Mr. Wayne. Amen.
