Journal 2017

This morning, when I asked God how best to pray for my friend Suzie, He gave me this visual.

Jesus scooped me up on His white horse, and we flew over to Suzie’s heart castle. I was dismayed to look down and see the devastation. The enemy had penetrated in spite of the thick stone walls around the property. The castle and the grounds had been burned and blackened, and only the charred remains of the beautiful oak trees dotted the landscape.

“So where is Suzie?” I cried.

“Listen,” He said.

And then I heard it. Cries of anguish came from the direction of the one standing turret. I knew then that Suzie was trapped inside, fighting for her life. She had barred and locked the door from the inside, fully armed, on high alert. The enemy troops surrounded the walls and were gleefully gloating, not paying much attention except to their own shenanigans. They knew they were helpless to penetrate the turret, but they didn’t care. They knew that eventually Suzie would run out of food and water, and their mission of destruction would be accomplished.

My inclination was to rush in with a flaming sword and rescue the damsel in distress, but I knew Jesus far too well than to make plans without him. Besides, He had told me I didn’t need to bring any weapons with me because I had Him; and as long as I stayed close to Him, I’d be okay. I looked at Jesus to see what He would do.

We glided over the walls and landed softly in front of the turret. I laughed in glee as the enemy hordes scattered like rats to the edges of the compound. What will He do next, I wondered. Will He knock, inform her that all is well, and that would be that?

Instead, we slid off the horse, and He sat by the door and pulled out a bag of marbles. “Care to play?” He asked.

What!? Really? Well, okay, I trust He knows what He’s doing.

I glanced up to see a shadow cross the window above us.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“She’s noticing the quiet,” He whispered.

I listened. The screeching of the devils around us had stopped, but no sound of birds could be heard or rustling in the trees. Just silence.

Okay, that’s good, I thought. What’s next?

“She needs to know that she’s safe before she will put down her weapons, stop fighting, and rest,” He said. (He had read my thoughts, of course.)

“So why don’t we just go on in and rescue her?” I asked. “You can go through walls.”

“I could . . . but it might scare her, and she’d pick the weapons back up if she hears noises on the stairs. I want her to learn to trust Me. I’m not like the destroyer who’s out to get her. But she doesn’t know that yet.”

“But she might starve to death while You wait for her!” I exclaimed.

He smiled. “Don’t worry, Little One. She’s been starving a long time already. That’s why she called for my help.”

“Then why don’t You help her?” I asked.

“I will . . . as soon as she opens the door and lets Me in.”

“But . . . ?”

“But what?”

The question died on my lips. I already knew the answer. I had learned firsthand the lesson of waiting—when I’m ready . . . when the Kairos time is right . . . at the appointed time, all shall be well.

“Thank You, Jesus, for letting me come with You today. I asked You to help her because I knew You would. But it’s always fun to watch You work. What’s next?”

“Wait and see the salvation of the Lord.”

And so we continued to play marbles on the soft dirt. Then Jesus began to whistle a tune—a lovely melody. (I love it when Jesus sings over me. I hoped it would reach Suzie’s ears so she could hear it too.)

And that’s when we heard the sobbing. Deep, wrenching sobs of pain coming from within the turret walls.

“Now, Jesus?” I looked to see what He would do. I wanted to rush in and scoop her in my arms and tell her all would be well.

He just shook His head, silent, and I knew I was expected to stay still and remain quiet. We both looked up at the same time. A shadow and then a tousled head appeared in the window. She glanced furtively about trying to determine where the sound was coming from. But all she could see was the desolation below in her garden. We were too close to the door for her to see us from that angle.

And so we waited. But it didn’t take long. We heard the sound of footsteps on the spiral stairs, closer and closer to the door. I held my breath. What would she do next? I glanced at Jesus. A little smile played about his lips. I could hear her breathing heavily on the other side of the door, waiting for something. Jesus paused for one beat, then two, and then very softly knocked on the door. “Suzie? It’s Me. Jesus. It’s okay. It’s safe to come out now. You are safe with Me.”

“How do I know it’s You?” she demanded. I’ve been tricked before.

“Tell you what,” He replied. “Why don’t you open the window in your front door and peek outside. Don’t open the door itself until you know it’s Me and not the enemy.”

“Yes, but the last time I did that, I saw what I thought was an angel of light. But when I opened the door, all hell broke loose.”

“Good point,” He countered. “Did you use the Demon Test first?”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I know how much you love My words. You can trust them. They are life and they are true. Remember where I instructed John to write, ‘By this you know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God” (I John 4:2-3)?’ Ask Me to say these words. The demons are incapable of saying them you know.”

“Okay . . . let me think about that . . . okay, yes, I do trust Your written words. So . . . whoever you are, say those words!”

“Jesus Christ is come in the flesh.”

Slowly and cautiously, the window swung open, and Suzie peered out. Jesus winked at her and smiled. “Good job!” He exclaimed.

And then He nodded over to the black spirits at the perimeter of the compound. Try making them say those words.

“Tell me ‘Jesus Christ is come in the flesh’!” she yelled in their direction.

Some of them smirked; others cringed; but they all looked away, silent.

Jesus waited.

“But what if I open this door and they come rushing back here?”

Silently, Jesus held up His flaming sword so she could see the words written on it:

And take . . . the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God (Eph. 6.17). For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart (Heb. 4:12).

“They really don’t like My sword.” He grinned.

And then I smiled because I knew what was coming. I’d seen it hundreds of times. I heard the bolts scraping open. Slowly the door swung inward, and Suzie stepped out into the bright sunshine. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes. And I saw Jesus sheath the sword and stretch out His hand in invitation. She hesitated. She still wasn’t sure she could trust Him. Maybe He was mad at her. Maybe He was going to whip out that sword to cut her in two. The thought was still very scary.

He lowered His arm. “Care to sit down and play marbles with us?” He asked.

“Marbles!? Are you mad?’ she said. “This place is in shambles; my kingdom is decimated, and you want to play marbles?! Aren’t you going to fix this place? That’s why I prayed to You, you know. You let this happen. Where were You when I was being attacked by the enemy? Where were You when my grandma’s life was cut short? You didn’t care that my parents divorced and left me to fend for myself.”

“Who are you really mad at, Suzie?” He asked gently.

“I’m mad at myself! I’m mad that I trusted you; I’m mad that I trusted other people and they betrayed me. But I’m mad at You too.”

Suddenly she stopped. I could see the fear in her eyes. She had just told off the King of the Universe. Would He strike her down for such insolence and disrespect? He’d done it before. She’d read about it when he disciplined the Israelites. Would He react to her the same way? She shrank back into herself, still on high alert, ready to bolt back into the turret and slam the door if necessary.

Instead, He waited, saying nothing.

When He didn’t make a move, she whispered, “Don’t you care!?” I could hear the silent scream behind the question.

“Yes, I care very much,” He replied. “I cared so much that I died for you so that you could be set free . . . if you want it.”

“Of course I want it,” she retorted. “But You didn’t do anything to stop it. And You didn’t come when I called.”

He waited, silent and patient.

“Well!? Aren’t you going to do something?”

“I’d love to, Suzie. But first, would you be willing to hand your anger to Me? I’m big enough to take it, you know. You’ve been carrying this for so long. How has it helped you? What has your anger done for you?”

“It’s kept me quite safe, thank you.”

He glanced up at the turret. “Sure, sure . . . quite safe . . . and starving.”

“Tell you what,” He added.” How about we do an exchange? You give me your anger, and I’ll give you some bread.”

By this time, Suzie knew her blood sugar was crashing, and she couldn’t keep up the tirade for much longer. Meekly, she handed over the fireball she’d been clutching under her arm, and He produced a warm, fresh-out-of-the-oven slice of bread, thickly slathered with melted butter and raspberry jam. Quickly she wolfed it down and then drank deeply from the bottled water He handed her. It tasted like nothing she’d experienced before—cool and warm at the same time, fizzy, like little sparkles of light dancing on her tongue. And she remembered those ancient words, “I am the Bread of Life; I will give you springs of Living Water.”

Suddenly, she knew she wanted more. More where this came from.

“Jesus?”

“Yes, my child?”

“Thank You.”

There was more, much more, to this story to come I knew. The kingdom had yet to be rebuilt and restored. But I knew there was time, plenty of time, because I knew that God’s timing is always perfect. For now, it was good to know that Suzie was with Jesus, getting to know Him and learning His ways, and would be pouring out all of her pain in the days ahead. It had been a good day.