I suppose before I go into that, I need to explain what has brought me to this point. I confess I am a terrible blogger. I haven't written since last year, and I never did explain where I was, spiritually speaking, when I wrote those spiritual allegories I posted (I do still mean to get to that, by the way).
I was raised in church. Most of us, Southern Bible belt kids, are. It's the norm, down here. I won't say anything about my previous church experiences before the church I'm apart of now. It would only serve to tear down. I'll just say I was never accepted. I was never included. I was never a part of a family. In fact, before Christ Church came along, I didn't know what being a member of the sacred Body of Christ really meant. Thank Him; I certainly do now.
In light of these experiences, or lack thereof, perhaps, I never took my faith seriously. I didn't see anyone around me taking it seriously. Why should I? Then I met Christopher Arthur Perry. He's a funny man, and he kind of looks like a hobbit. Actually, when he taught high school, we all called him Frodo. Chris, or Dad, as I usually call him, decided to take me under his wing, to care for me, to encourage me, to uplift me. I didn't know then, that he was incredibly gifted with both prophecy and discernment, so now it is no wonder to me how he knew I needed help. Through his council, Brenan Manning's book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, Christian medical care, and a lot of help from the Holy Spirit, I stopped, what Paul calls, living on spiritual baby food, and began, what Dad calls, putting on my spiritual big-girl pants.
It was time to take faith seriously, starting with my baptism. Oh, how I underestimated my enemy. New trials came. Medications stopped working. Sleep became nearly impossible. Loved ones passed away. I suppose I should have expected it, but I didn't. Thank Him; I had come to live among genuine brothers and sisters in the faith. I even met the man He had chosen for me, for with trials come blessings in the middle of the storm.
I survived the storm, of course, and was stronger for it. I had no idea that as I gradually gave in, gradually surrendered more and more of my life to the Holy Spirit, that He had bigger plans for me.
I didn't know she was demonically possessed until I had already walked away. What I had known was that I had never sensed so much anger and hatred from a human, especially one I had never seen before in my life, and who apparently had some unknown reason for staring at me for about 2 minutes straight, which was all the time I could bare in that presence. I asked God why she was so angry and full of hate. He whispered that what I felt, did not come from her. I cannot explain to you how my skin crawled.
The next demonic encounter was a few weeks after that. My sister, Grace, and I were shopping for a Halloween party we were helping host. We had been browsing the mall for a few hours when we stepped into a store. I will not disclose the name as I do not believe the chain of stores itself is innately evil. However, the presence that was there, was certainly evil. It was so strong that I physically could not breathe.
It was after this encounter that I started questioning God in prayer. Why were my eyes slowly being opened to the spiritual world of war? I have had many demonic, and thankfully by an answer of prayer, angelic encounters since last year. The Holy Spirit has gifted me with discernment (distinguishing of spirits), prophecy (speaking truth), and wisdom, though the last I'm still not entirely sure of.
I found a prayer, four pages long, last week. I think I wrote it early January of this year. In this prayer, I asked God to make me into such a strong woman of God that demons would flee from my presence. I can only assume that He interpreted that as my asking for discernment, and I joke often that I need to find the receipt for it.
I am thankful though. Very thankful. Truly, deeply thankful. I have been able to sense presences, and either help revoke them, or inform those around me of the need to flee. I have seen angels, and they have spoken to my heart in that spiritual language that has no words. I have heard the Holy Spirit speak truth into the lives of my brothers and sisters through me.
But now I come back to my introduction. I would caution you. Do not ask for gifts of warfare unless you are serious. Unless you know what it is you ask for. Our enemies are many. They are strong. Discerners are their biggest threat against their greatest weapon, which is secrecy and shadow. I have been assaulted, both in dreams and when awake. I have trembled. I have cried. If one can bleed spiritually, I have done so.
When I ask if you have ever known a loved one was about to die, I do not mean hospital rooms and stoic faced doctors. I mean, has the Holy Spirit ever whispered to your heart that you must let go, and say your last goodbye, though this loved one is standing before you with a smile. I ask because I want to know. This gift runs in my family. My aunt knew that her daughter would be taken from her. I almost had the courage to ask her if she knew that her mother would be called home very soon as well.
I did not ask. I have only told my closest brothers and sisters. But I am new, a babe still learning with this gift. How I pray that I am wrong. How I pray that my grandmother, dear to my heart, has many happy years left. But there is that whisper in my heart that urged me to drive two and a half hours to spend the day with her, to spend what I felt would be the last day with her on this earth.
Again, I am thankful. Few have this chance. The chance to say goodbye.
