Earlier this morning, upon waking, I immediately entered my closet to spend time with God. The entire session was swimming in lamentations: not the book of Lamentations, but “the passionate expression of grief or sorrow; weeping” (Oxford Definitions) kind of lamentations. I couldn’t stop crying — more accurately, I couldn’t stop not-so-silently wailing. Lamenting to God, begging for release from suffering, asking why my suffering won’t go away, complaining that I’ve tried everything and why doesn’t he listen to me? I wailed and wailed and wailed, as though the grief coming out had no end and no limit. I thought, “This must be a sign of total loss, total failure. What else could total collapse mean?”
In the midst of lamenting, I prayed for loved ones: one in particular. My words were not inventive. My utterances were uncreative. The most popular ones were, “Help me,” “Help her,” and Help us.”
I thought of my upcoming planned deliverance session and hoped that I would actually show up and not cancel. I thought that demons must be attacking more and more as the date approaches.
The belief that I am getting worse and worse, despite my efforts, pervaded and filled my thoughts. I was collapsing inside myself. I lamented my exhaustion with trying. I complained that I don’t hear God’s voice anymore.
I really thought I’d never stop crying, even marveled at my capacity for tear production, and more than once thought myself to be approaching insanity perhaps. I mean, who cries like this? Who laments like this? The world must see this as crazy behavior, so it must be. Anyway, those were some of the thoughts that came up.
Then, after much time had passed, the pain stopped. The wailing and waterworks came to an end. I had been emptied. And then there was peace — not a joyful peace, but an absence-of-suffering kind of peace. And there was understanding.
Towards the end of the session…
Towards the end of the session, I had prayed for angels, for legions of angels: warring angels, angels that protect — and had asked them to act on our behalves. There was very little fighter in me to combat demons, but I gave it what I could. Unexpected manifestations came up and provided a confirmation — not a needed one, but a confirmation.
At the end of the session: What I asked God for…
While I was in the closet, God finally spoke to me. He asked me what I want. I answered, “Healing.” Healing for her, healing for her, healing for him and healing for me. I asked for a few other things, but that is the core of it. I believe He answered me straightaway. Having wiped my tears and gathering up my peace, I emerged from the closet, turned on the light and went straight for my Bible. I opened it and this is what it said:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart (*spirit) and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Jesus)Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV 1984) (*spirit: Good News Translation)
What perfection. God answered me and wasted no time. I’m not sure why He likes wailing so much, but I’m totally convinced that he does — which automatically makes me think of another verse:
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.Jeremiah 29:13 (NIV 1984)
Winding It Up…
Is it true that I do not grow, that I have only gotten worse? The world would most definitely see it that way. I mean, uncontrolled wailing in a dark closet? Jesus said he does not give to us as the world gives to us.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (Jesus)John 14:27 (NIV 1984)
OK, so Jesus does not give to you or me how the world does. (Leads me to ponder: Does he expect from us as the world does?)
So, yeah, I’m still not even coming close to measuring up to the world’s standards. Actually, in the world I’m quite a failure. So I’m starting to wonder where that fits in and how to further process it.
Now here’s my takeaway from the culmination and eventual climactic expression of agony this morning:
My path with spiritual warfare is a path. It’s not a predictable one. It doesn’t “go by the book”. I continue to read and study spiritual warfare literature, but it’s ultimately God who teaches me along the way. I notice it gets messy and there are breakdowns. I notice how I am covering up my struggles less and less. As I admit to my struggles, I find that they seem to cling very, very tightly at first, and then begin to lose their grip / their grasp. It is war. It is a battle. I have often called up the wrong army: basically, my brute force. Could it be that my battle strategy is shifting in real time?
I think that in life we want everything to be straightforward and clean; not only that, we want to look good in the process and avoid any possible error, ridicule and thus embarrassment or humiliation at all costs — even the cost to our very souls.
I’m noticing that in real life, at least for me, I don’t really truly grow until I get dirty. I notice that I do not truly go up without first dipping down. So, would it be prudent to embrace the dipping down? I’m thinking, “Why not?” It actually seems to bear fruit.