Supernatural in San Jose

I know I’ve written a lot lately about spiritual warfare. I’m realizing now that the battles I made out to be war were only warm-ups to prepare us for our week long ministry in San Jose, Costa Rica.

 

My team and I were gathered in the common area of our home for the week, a big, 91-year-old yellow house that was built atop battlegrounds. We were worshiping the loudest we ever had and praying the hardest we’ve ever prayed when a booming voice shouted “HUSH!” very angrily. My team and I looked at each other in unison with concerned, confused faces because we were staying in the house alone. But the booming voice isn’t what woke me up from that dream, it was a deeper, more evil voice speaking something seemingly right in my ear. I jolted awake, clutching my bible with my heart beating so loud I could hear and feel it thumping in my ears. Too afraid to sit up and look around the dark room, I laid frozen in my bed, alert and waiting for something. I didn’t have to wait very long when suddenly something grabbed the edge of my bed with enough violent force to shake it. “Alayna!” I shouted into the darkness. She responded before I even finished calling her name. She turned on a light and came to my aid. 

 

Every part of me was shaking, my hands trembling, my breath panting, and my voice quivering. I was disoriented, unable to hear anything around me due to my heart pounding in my ears and my vision blurry. It was the most scared I’ve ever been, which was annoying. I’ve seen my fair share of the supernatural throughout my life. I’ve done ministry among witch doctors in Africa before, braving the dark of our house there to cast out demons. So why was this so different? Why was this so scary? What changed in me between then and now that made me timid? Where did I pick up this timidness? 

 

When we gathered that morning, it seemed like each of us had been attacked in some way the night before, nothing like we had experienced back in Jaco. No, this was bigger and darker than that. So we decided to come together as a troop every night to pray and worship any evil out of the house. 

 

As the day went on, I couldn’t help but reflect on the same question. Why was I so afraid? At the beginning of the race, I was given a key necklace with the word “Bold” engraved onto it. I fiddled with this key all day long. Just because I was wearing the word “Bold.” didn’t mean that I was actually putting on boldness. I was reminded of the story of Samson. The only reason his strength was taken from him is because he gave it freely. Somewhere along the way, I freely traded my boldness for timidness. After all, being timid leaves less room for vulnerability, for people to come in and hurt you. I had the same mindset when it came to the supernatural. I thought if I were bold and confronted it, I would be too vulnerable to an attack. As if being afraid of it and avoiding it would be a safer option.

 

As evening fell, my nerves rose. We gathered in the common area of the house, prepared for battle. Since none of us slept peacefully the previous night, we were pretty droopy. Everyone was slumped in a chair, eyes closed, soaking in worship. For a split second, I was relieved because that meant I didn’t have to confront the things in the house that scared me. Then I saw a vision of the evil in the house looking down on us smiling, happy at the fact we were too tired and too afraid to face them. They won. Before I knew it, a fire lit in my bones. I couldn’t sit back and let the evil win, not that night or any other night. I told my team I felt like we were supposed to go throughout the house and pray boldly. We weren’t going to give darkness the victory as easily as I had previously given away my boldness. We were claiming back territory, and as for me, I was claiming back my boldness. 

 

 “I love you, O Lord, my strength.

 The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,

       my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,

       my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.”

    Psalm 18:1-2

 

The Lord had been leading me to Psalm 18 almost every day the week before my team, and I came to San Jose. I finally understood why. After reading and declaring this scripture, I felt confident storming into dark rooms and speaking directly to demons because I remembered the authority that comes with being covered by the blood of salvation. We weren’t fighting for victory. We were fighting from victory.

 

As the week went on, we felt the atmosphere of the house get lighter and lighter. Our team was sleeping better and better. So, it was finally time to advance our troop upstairs, where we had felt most of the evil dwelling. One by one, we worshiped our way upstairs, and we weren’t afraid.. We were dancing! Our joy sealed the victory. 

 

No matter what battle you face in life, supernatural, or everyday struggles, know that it is finished. The only reason my team and I were successful is because we realized the battle had already been won for us. The difference between success and failure in a battle is whether or not we recognize the authority that has already been given to us through the blood of salvation. We choose to claim the victory with joy or ponder failure with fear. 

 

The victory is yours, dear reader. Walk in it.