the urge was intense
his whisper, ‘i will help you.’ over taken in jesus love here. thank you ****** for calling.
i just heard it. and the time is the same time i was standing at the counter
it was relatively the same conversation on a different day, this time via telephone.
he was complaining about the demons in the apartment. it was the same lot that lived there before her arrival and after she’d left. the older residents had likely invited a few new ones by now.
the latest round of harassment and victimization included an apple thrown across the kitchen, cupboard doors opening and slamming shut with a new stunt thrown into the mix. one of them had taken his laptop and chucked it on the floor when he wasn’t home. this act of destruction required a trip to the big box electronics store for repairs.
she shook her head, listening in frustration. the demons had never messed with her. when she was around they’d fled to dark corners and closets.
he went on, wallowing in self-pity about the bad things they were doing to him. it was a ploy for sympathy. of course it was. she bought it for a minute and began praying for him.
he listened as she began, “father, i’m seriously tired of listening to all the crap the enemy is doing to _______. she began to take authority over the enemy but something wasn’t right. she stopped.
she turned her attention back to him. “you know, we’ve had this conversation multiple times. you were made for so much more. you were not made to live at this level in this misery. if you would fully come into your identity in jesus, you wouldn’t have to put up with this crap.”
he said nothing in response to the truth he was hearing. he never did, never engaged in this part of his salvation. self-pity had a louder voice again this go ’round.
they finished their conversation and she went on with her day. same old story. she shook her head. it was another reminder of why they weren’t together anymore. choices and free will. sigh.
two days later, she saw a post by graham cooke on facebook. her eyes grew wide as saucers when she read it. not only did the light bulb go on, it blew up.
papa graham offered this wisdom: “process is where we discover god at work in our lives. it is where we submit to the work of his hands. process is everything. there is no growth or maturity without it.
if we do not submit to the process, the enemy will not submit to us. the process is the foundation for our obedience, which results in our authority. there is no authority outside of our submission.” (from qualities of a spiritual warrior by graham cooke)
there it was. she knew this was spot on. there is no authority outside of our submission. she’d been through process learning obedience. she had been granted authority and father god continued to increase it. it was the reason stuff moved when she was around.
merriam-webster defines authority as 1. power to influence or command thought, opinion, or behavior, and 2. freedom granted by one in authority.
submission is defined as 1. the condition of being submissive, humble, or compliant, and 2. an act of submitting to the authority or control of another.
as she mulled over graham’s words, holy spirit added to it. “submission is also a choice to trust, to receive love, to have full on relationship with papa, jesus and me. it’s believing we have your best interests in mind always. it’s believing we are always good.
it’s submitting to being and living as the new creation that you already are. to remain locked into your former identity as a dead man only produces more death.
sure, papa’s children will go to heaven, but they will not experience the righteousness, peace and joy of our kingdom here without submission, without the process or the journey.
becoming a manifested son or daughter is a choice. you cannot rule and reign with jesus outside of embracing your son ship.”
who are you? the new man or the dead man?
what is your identity in jesus?
(copyright © 2017 jane doe)
not long after they met, she began to see layers wrapped around him and weights upon his shoulders and back. the layers were like bandages wrapped tightly around a mummy while the weights were heavy, unbearable yokes.
the heaviness weighed him down and the layers restricted his movement and freedom, robbing him of the joy he had been gifted with in his mother’s womb.
she first experienced his joy at the airport as they waited in a long line. he was humming a happy little tune. she closed her eyes and listened when he first began. she felt herself becoming lighter. her cares were leaving. his joy was spilling over to her.
delighted, she turned to her left to look at him. “what is that?” she asked. he grinned and stopped humming to answer.
“it’s sesame street. the mahna mahna song.” she squealed in laughter. “what? really?? i love it!!” his humming had changed the atmosphere around them. it made her laugh and that shifted it even more.
during shared adventures, holy spirit told her about him. she shared with him what she could. she told him about his joy, about the power it wielded against the enemy, how it would carry him through storms.
it was infectious with others, too. it broke oppression, pulling them out of their own pit so they could see, so they could breathe again.
she gave him oil to help him sustain his power. it was even called ‘joy.’ she wore it every day to maintain her own joy. everywhere she went, people asked what she had on. it lifted them. they wanted what she had, too.
the enemy knew the power of his joy. he came to steal it, to oppress it, to squelch it. and when the attacks came, he did not have the strength to put it on. his mind was attacked, his sleep was attacked. and it snowballed.
one afternoon, they went on a road trip. she could tell when he picked her up that something was wrong. she prayed in her thoughts. “holy spirit, what should I do?” he answered her quickly. “pray in tongues and touch him as often as you can.” this became her protocol whenever they were driving together.
christmas came. they went away for a few days. the enemy was not pleased he was with her light for an extended period of time. the battle intensified quickly.
she looped the same worship song in the car for three hours as they drove. “nothing is wasted,” by elevation worship. he drove, she worshipped, sometimes weeping. he was being unwrapped from bondage.
they went out for dinner christmas eve. she’d made reservations at one of their favorite restaurants. it had a view. their server seated them at the same table they always sat at. they smiled at each other knowingly. it was ‘their’ place. dinner was lovely.
they ate in silence, listening intently to the family behind them with the very bright little girl and her very british grandfather. memories were made at both tables that night.
later on, they settled in to watch a christmas carol. holy spirit showed her the weights on him again. she placed her right hand on his back in various places, and holy spirit gently removed several of them.
the intercession began soon after. she put on her ear buds and worship music. she took hold of his right hand with her left hand and held it tight as holy spirit moved.
her body shook and she wept silently as healing took place deep in his soul. he thought it was about her, and she let him think so. it was better that way.
the unwrapping continued. soon, he would be completely free.
free to see, free to hear, free to feel, free to live and free to love.
(copyright 2017 jane doe)
she was out with her family riding bicycles. they were traveling a path representing rich history, riding from boston to lexington as paul revere had so famously done.
this day would also be marked in heaven.
as she rode, she released declarations of freedom and resurrection life to the people and to creation. she released ‘angels of original american intent’ to move, to act on the words she was speaking.
her words were powerful, full of love, purpose, restoration. and they did not go unchallenged.
the enemy sent troops to disrupt the work. it happened quickly. her best efforts to avoid the crash weren’t enough.
she had the wisdom and presence of mind to quickly reach out for prayer from friends. those prayers pushed back the demons’ intent to take her body and pieces of her soul captive.
one friend got on the phone with her and began to pray in tongues. she saw infirmity and trauma trying to enter through her knee. she commanded all trauma to be loosed from her friend’s physical cells. she commanded the ligaments, tendons and muscles to go back into place.
the assignment was cancelled, access denied. indeed, there was movement in the knee immediately. healing was occurring.
as they talked, holy spirit showed them how the plan and attack happened in the spirit. pride stood firmly in the man who wouldn’t give way on the path. his unwillingness to yield gave place to leviathan to twist her body and knee in ways they were never designed to move as she crashed to the ground.
holy spirit brought more revelation: it’s at the point of attack when trauma or injury occur that all demonic spirits attempt to come and attach themselves.
it’s also the place where we submit (accept or yield to a superior force or to the authority or will of another person) ourselves to god, resist the enemy, and he flees. it’s written and it is what it is. the power and protection available to us in coming under god’s authority is unparalleled.
this authority protects, heals and delivers all of god’s children, redeemed and unredeemed alike, to show them they are loved and cared for without limit.
there is no force than can stand against authority flowing from love and intimacy with father god.
time is not a factor in this process. god is not in time. jesus moved in and out of it.
he told us to be as he was in this world. this means we can go back to the time of the attack, be positioned at the point of entry and cancel that event. healing and deliverance occur.
when oppression is lifted and the blinders are removed, people see god clearly.
they see he is good. and always has been.
what the enemy means for evil, god uses for good.
(copyright 2017 jane doe)
it had been nearly three weeks since they’d spoken. it was the longest they’d ever gone without any communication.
she’d made the upgrade in her own identity and it caused a shift between them. in the process, the battle had intensified. father was bringing her into higher levels of rest and trust. after the first week of silence, she settled into it. it was all right.
then the direction shifted. she was still at work one day when she began to see a restaurant they frequented often in her mind. once, twice and a third time she saw it.
then came the phone call from a trusted friend. after conversation, it was clear: it was time to go back into the fray, to fight for him, to fight for them. destinies were at stake.
she texted him once. he read it and did not respond. she sent another, letting him know where she was. silence. then a text response. “what do you want?” she felt his anger.
this was not normal. “what do you mean?” she texted back. then her phone rang. “where are you?” yes. he was angry. and he had been angry for over two weeks.
after some conversation, the reason for his anger became clear. the enemy had whispered lies to him about her. he had believed the worst of her based on his experience with someone else.
the liar had worked hard to make him believe they were exactly the same. they were not. she unraveled the lie and presented the truth to him.
his face grew darker. in his anger, she could see he wanted to believe the lie over the truth. it was easier than admitting he hadn’t questioned the lying spirits with their accusing voices. pride was right there to justify his actions and misplaced anger.
she didn’t pull any punches. “you need to delineate a clear line between her actions and mine. we are not the same. i do not do what she did. if you don’t keep it separate, i’m going to get the crap beat out of me.” she meant it figuratively, but he went off.
“what do you mean? i’m going to beat you up?” she looked him in the eyes over her bowl of nachos. “no. i mean that i will get hurt.”
he sat back in his chair taking in the weight of her words. she went to the restroom. “daddy, I don’t know what to to. i need more grace and mercy over us here. help me.” she went back out to the table.
his features had softened slightly. “how do we fix this?” he asked. she shrugged her shoulders. “wipe the slate clean?” he nodded, adding, “hit the reset button?” she nodded.
nothing felt like it had been reset. the atmosphere was heavy. not only was he sitting on the other side of the table, but so were the demons who’d been tormenting him in recent months. they hung on his shoulders and whispered lies to him. she could see them and hear when they spoke through his mouth.
he didn’t have a skill set for combatting them yet. but he would. and when he knew the truth, it would make him free.
fear, rejection, poverty, infirmity, jealousy and pride. and here they were all together at dinner. no wonder it was challenging to navigate. and deep within this beautiful man was a small boy who needed healing.
they did okay when the conversation centered around what each of them had been doing for activities, how the family was, etc.
pride became impatient with the niceties and began telling her what he would and would not do, ripping on the plans father god had shown them both together.
she stayed still as long as she could, her heart racing as the liar attempted to deconstruct what father had already begun in building them together as one.
when the conversation crossed the line, she put on her coat and set her purse on the table. she stood before him, hardly believing the words he’d spoken. this clearly was not him.
the pain was in her eyes, in her words. she could see that he saw it. his own pain and woundedness was so great, all he could do was take it out on her in the moment.
she looked over at him before she walked away. shaking her head sadly, she said, “you don’t want to let the best thing you’ve got in your life walk out the door.” it was not bragging. it was arrogant. it was just true.
she left. he didn’t go after her. as she walked to the car, she made one remark to father. “i know, i know, i will believe and trust right now that what the enemy meant here for evil tonight, you will make work for our good.”
she got in the car and waited to see if he would come to stop her. he did not.
she debriefed the whole thing with wise counsel. some of this had been father’s doing. he wanted to expose things in the man that had been hidden. she had called them out and brought light into them.
exposure had occurred. the enemy had lost ground that he would never get back. checkmate.
twenty-four hours later, she was exhausted from the skirmish, unfriended and exiled. these were but temporary conditions. she declared victory and full restoration with a song in her heart.
light always exposes the darkness.
(copyright 2017 jane doe)
it was monday night. after she got home from work and made dinner, she went upstairs to stream the show she missed on sunday night. father always gave her revelation through the stories and visuals. tonight would be no different.
human trafficking was the topic in the department of state. one nation’s leader insisted it was ‘under control’ within their borders. but this president was willing to take his blinders off for a minute and lend his cooperation if a famous american starlet agreed to attend his birthday party. he was narcissistic, yes, but not unredeemable.
after much back and forth drama, the starlet agreed to go. operations were put in place to protect her and to rescue those being trafficked.
at the beginning of the program, several of their faces had been shown and their voices heard.
their captors were angry that they’d spoken when they were supposed to remain silent. they paid a price for speaking. but their voices were heard. they were now real to the rest of the world.
the state department staff watched in horror as the operation played out. their faces fell as they watched the foreign nation’s ‘police’ allow the traffickers drive away unimpeded into the dark night. the men’s faces were unseen, their names unknown. their identities remained hidden.
the revelation struck her suddenly. the enemy had no issue showing the world the women and girls he had taken hostage in this underworld drama. he let them speak occasionally, and he let them be seen. it added to the drama, the trauma and the fear factor.
but the other victims? they remained hidden.
these victims were the men, lost and desperate for father god’s love, his nurturing heart that would fill every void.
the enemy had perverted their need and given them other men’s wives and daughters to satiate the desire. but it was never enough and it never satisfied. it was why they had no problem allowing a truckload of women and girls to suffocate to death.
father showed her the men were just as much victims as the women and children. but the enemy hid them, knowing his game was over when the men were freed from this bondage.
god made men to be the head of the family.
when the men are strong, the families are strong.
(copyright 2017 jane doe)
Personal musings and experiences, faith in real life.
mission possible: standing in the gap for men
real life stories from Portland, OR
Dio (God) is forte (strong) and presente (present) in every pasticcio (mess)
Be the love