Jesus rebuked him, and the demon came out of him, and the boy was cured at once. Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, “Why could we not drive it out?” And He said to them, “Because of the littleness of your faith; for truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you. [“But this kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting.”] (Matthew 17:18-21)
Can a woman, in-dwelt by the Holy Spirit of God, be possessed by Satan and his demons? No, I don’t believe she can. But she can be oppressed. So thoroughly oppressed she feels possessed. Though unable to claw his way into our souls, somehow his ugly whispers can seep into our thought-life like sulfuric poison. Slipping in stealthily, his lies make their bed in our minds.
I know this full well, because, like this sweet friend of mine, I’d found myself speaking similar lies as though they belonged to me. “I'm not good enough; I don't love enough; if I were more spiritual… then it would be different, I’d have the fruit of God’s Spirit baring fruit instead of this rancid stuff...”
Alone in my room I’d cry out night after night, “That’s not the truth, Satan you’re not welcome here! I love my family, I can do this, I love my kids, I love myself. I am fearfully and wonderfully made! They are fearfully and wonderfully made! I can do all things through Christ who gives me His strength. He is stronger than you are and He’s going to win in the end. So get out of here, you bastard! Christ is my peace, in His presence there is fulness of joy. I choose to consider these present trials as my joy, knowing that the testing of my faith will produce endurance, that I might be perfect and complete lacking in nothing when these present challenges are all over…” These were my words, night after night. Out they'd fly, scripture-truth hidden for years, combating the enemy’s fiery darts.
But still, the war raged on. I wanted a sudden victory, asked for salvation to flood my mind. Still, day after day, negative thoughts about myself, my kids, and my marriage slipped from my lips in the quiet chamber of my room as everyone napped and I folded clothes. Then I’d sob again, “I keep praying, I keep believing, why is he not fleeing from me?”
One night these words came quick like an answer: “…this kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting.”
The very next day I reached out to a Godly woman and asked her to pray over me, to pray over my entire home. I didn’t tell her much, just asked her to pray. Of course she came fasting and praying.
* Let me preface this by saying that I wasn’t raised in a Holy Spirit, standing-up-raising-hands-anointing-each-other-in-oil-and-speaking-in-tongues home, but this friend of mine did all the above.
After praying over me, she told me to keep my eyes closed, then asked what I was seeing.
And I was seeing.
I saw Jesus, clear as day, on His knees with His fingers in rich soft soil. And I knew in an instant that the soil was my heart. There were weeds all around and he was gently combing through the supple dirt and lifting out each gnarly root. When he got to one particularly terrible weed I gasped, because there seemed to be no end to the root system. As He pulled, I felt my heart being pulled physically. I started weeping, uncontrollably, shaking and crying as she gently stroked my back. All the while, Jesus was pulling gently and the serpent-like body of the root system kept coming up and up and up without end. Finally I cried out loud, “There is no end to my pain! There is no end… I cannot do this… I hate this… I hate this… I hate this… It will never get better.”
Crying even now at the memory – ashamed to confess the home those lies had made for themselves in my soul. But the story goes on… because Jesus kept pulling, and the woman who had fasted on my behalf kept praying, and eventually the claw-like root was torn from the earth and cast aside.
There I was, torn apart and empty in the end. But this dear woman didn’t let me rest, immediately she asked what I needed to replace the lies with. I started weakly mumbling truth, “I love my children, I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength, God knows the plans He has for me, plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give our family hope and a future. I love my children.” My voice grew stronger. “I love my children and I love my husband. And I trust You Lord! You did a good job when you wove me together in my mother’s womb!” And stronger still. “I trust You!”
Only a time or two in these past years have I been tempted to let those lies slip back in. But I know whose voice it is now. They are not my thoughts. And so today, as we wrap up this series aptly titled, "You are not a victim, you're a mom," let me encourage you to remember what is true. You do not hate your children. You do not hate your life. You are not less than the women to your right or to your left. You are incredible, as a matter of fact! And your husband does love you. And Christ will redeem your brokenness, because that is what He came to do – repair and redeem and restore.
So much wonderful truth to implant in the bare and fertile soil of our hearts, especially when we fast and pray.
Ladies, I have had the awesome privilege of leading thousands of women through our annual 40 Day Sugar Fast. You can sign up to receive 40 days of devotions to guide you through this physical detox which works more like a Spiritual fast! Sign up today, if this series about the victim mentality of motherhood resonated with you, if you are battling lies straight from the pit, if you are having a miserable time tasting and seeing that the Lord is good in this season, if you struggle to control your emotions, run to the pantry for a handful of chocolate chips or a sugary mocha to get you through each hard afternoon, I invite you to join us for this fast.
