Bigger Than the Boogie Man

I had someone ask me a while back about any spiritual warfare experiences I had personally dealt with. A serious topic, but an important one. I know whenever I find myself talking to any World Race alumni, spiritual warfare is brought up. It could be about the unexpected stressors of training camp, fighting the heat in Cambodia, or remaining alone in the dark as everyone falls asleep in their tents, it’s something that seems prominent on the Race. It seems to be that wherever the Lord is, Satan tries to be, too. When it’s real, it seems heavy. Like something is trying to choke you.

Anyone who would try to deny the concept of spiritual battles would inherently be denying the existence of angels and demons, which in turn would be heretical, and opening your Bible and looking through the coordinates would be advised if that happens to be your current stance. We know demons and angels exist. Even if you didn’t believe in Christianity, there’s common talk of our “guardian angels,” and those horror movie sets don’t just move by themselves. Spirituality’s dark side is not something to tamper with. Any horror movie or thriller makes it quite obvious that if you choose to snoop around in the dark, you might end up staying there. Do those movies end well? Doubtful. But, if we were to change one thing– if we were to simply incorporate God into the plot, the good guys always win.

So here’s my good guy story. Firsthand.

****

I turned out the light and we wished each other goodnight. Not but thirty minutes later, I heard her start to whimper and felt her shaking.

‘Not again,’ I thought to myself, with slight irritation and some compassion. ‘Maybe if I just ignore it, she’ll work through it by herself.’

The shaking kept going. Her whispers were turning into words. “Stop it,” she breathed in her sleep.

Obviously, it was not getting better.

I rolled over in the bed to face her. At this point, I was well-versed in her panic attacks/night terrors. Speculative diagnosis aside, Gracie (that’s what we’ll call her) and I had shared several sleepovers where she would find herself trapped in her sleep with terrors flashing before her. Whether that be childhood trauma resurfacing, pain being inflicted on loved ones or herself, or her family undergoing something cruel, it was never pleasant. Was she awake or asleep or stuck somewhere in between? I’m unsure, but what I do know is that as unpleasant as it was for me to be woken up having my friend unable to settle down, it was much, much worse for the one who had to personally endure it.

“Hey, Gracie, I’m here,” I said. It helps to know you have a friend close at hand.

Fast forward through probably about 30 minutes of trying to console this girl who was trapped by her own mind. I held her, rocking her back and forth, trying to assure her that she was in a warm bed, completely safe. ‘God,’ I prayed, ‘make this stop.’

Funny thing:

He didn’t. Not like I magically expected everything to instantaneously cease, but she didn’t calm down, she didn’t sit up, she didn’t open her eyes and blink them dry. There was no sign that this was going to stop anytime soon. In fact, it looked like it was getting worse. 

Without notice she violently grabbed my arms and pushed herself away from me. Very uncharacteristic of Gracie, since her love language and source of comfort is physical touch.

“Get away!” She warned, trembling, “don’t hurt me!”

“Gracie, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said softly. 

“Don’t touch me,” she growled. 

I blinked. Yes ma’am. I looked at her strangely. “I’m not touching you, Gracie.”

She winced. “I’m not talking to you.” She winced again. “DON’T HURT ME!”

There. It was right then. I felt it. 

It was cold. Heavy. Dark. It was Evil. It hit me like some rouge animal barreling into me. This wasn’t a routine attack. Evil was present. The air became thin. People say, “seeing is believing,” but we can’t see the spiritual realm, and it is certainly way more real than our earthly bodies are. But in that moment, the darkness we were sitting in felt real. It wasn’t hiding anything like darkness typically does– darkness is scary because we don’t know what it’s hiding from us. This darkness was not hiding anything. It was the darkness itself that made this experience what it was.

‘GOD!’ I screamed in my head, ‘MAKE IT STOP!’

Gracie started shouting, pleading and sobbing for this thing to stop all it was doing. I was frightened. Conveniently enough, Satan really enjoys fear. He understands the power it holds. He also understands that his greatest enemy holds even more power, so in order to prevent God from showing up, he clouds our thoughts with fear.

Lucky for us, our God is an omnipresent God. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

Before moving on with the rest of the story, two things need to be noted: One, like Matthew 5:15 states, it would be stupid to light a candle to help you see only to put something over it. Idiot. Secondly, as seen throughout Scripture and just throughout living life, our voice has a wild impact. God’s voice created us and all that we know. Our voices influence others to do good or bad. When people say to speak up, we’re looking for impact, because what will be said could change the course of action.

Having come to these conclusions, then, I realized that my silence wasn’t what we needed. I needed light and a voice.

I leaned over to flip on the lamp by the bed. The room immediately flooded with light and I looked over to see Gracie rocking back and forth. (Haunted houses are dark, which makes them scary. If we were to turn on the light, we probably wouldn’t hear so many screams from inside as we wait in line, because we can see for ourselves.) Light isn’t scary. 

I prayed. Out loud this time. I placed my hands firmly on Gracie and I opened my mouth and spoke the words into being. “God, here I am.”

I prayed over Gracie. A fighting prayer. This wasn’t a measly “thank you Lord for our food” prayer or one of those “I hate praying out loud but I’m supposed to in order to be a good Christian” prayers. Everything about this was raw. It was overwhelming. My mindset had changed, too. Instead of pleading with God to make Gracie feel at peace, just for both of our comfort’s sake, it was asking God to reveal himself. “I know you’re real. I know that whatever game Satan is trying to win won’t work because you’re here, and there’s no freaking way he could ever win. Show him what you got, God.” I felt like Elijah on the mountain with the Baal prophets. Elijah had no doubt in his mind that God wasn’t going to show. He was 100% confident, since God was already standing there, laughing with Elijah.

There wasn’t an ounce of doubt that God would show. This is for the people that went to church as a little kid and were always given that mustard seed in a jar because “if we have faith the size of a mustard seed, we can move mountains,” and always questioned it. What does faith actually look like? It was sitting in a bed, tears streaming down my face, shouting for the Lord to show himself because there was something here that I couldn’t fight by myself, and I KNEW my God would show. Not like I’ve never experienced faith before, because that is part of any Christian’s journey. It’s just… I knew what it was. As if I was going to step out onto God’s hand but everyone else could just see some cloud that I would fall through. They fear for me, since a cloud would not hold me, but there was no way I could fall through. I would know better.

“God you are here. And you’re powerful. And you’re real. Light up the room.  Make your presence known to everyone here. You defeated the grave. You give life. You are light and you will fight for those you love. Fill this room and make yourself undeniable.” I had tears on my face because I had a glorious God that would fight for what was his. And blessed are Gracie and I and you reading this, because we are his, and he will always fight for us.

I finished speaking. And then it left. Instantly. There was silence. There was relief. Gracie stopped crying. I was the one that was shaking now. The darkness had evaporated. And when the relief set in, I simultaneously wanted to hug Gracie, tackle God in a massive hug and give him a high five jumping yelling, “DUDE THAT WAS AWESOME!”

Gracie opened her eyes, bewildered to see me crying, and we hugged each other tightly with relief and praise.

“That wasn’t a normal attack,” she confirmed. “That was terrifying.”

****

There’s your story. The good guy won.

Again, spiritual forces aren’t something to mess with. But because our souls belong to something more long-term than just the Earth we live on, I’m sure we’ll run across them at some point. So when we do, remember that God is bigger than the boogie man. He’s bigger than Godzilla or the monsters on TV. God is so much bigger than the boogie man, and he’s watching out for you and me.