She Called Upon Her God And He Saved Me!

A dream…

I was a young woman,
waiting back stage
Among many others,
In the hope that I would be next
To go out on stage.

I knew deep down inside me,
That my turn would come today.

The stage production
Were for the United Nations delegates.
Some of those out on stage,
were the delegates themselves.
This was a way for them to relax and have fun,
After going through their more serious talks of the day.

I was not a U.N. delegate.
I had been chosen to be back stage
Because they were told that I had a good voice,
And could mimic some of the singers
And their popular songs of the past 20 years or so.

The singers were going out on stage,
and forming a dancing line,
with singers and delegates interwoven among each other.

The second line that went out
Had a problem with the lead singer’s microphone,
So they suddenly grabbed me from behind,
Stuck the microphone on me,
And told me to go out and sing the lyrics to the next song.

The song was “You’re the one that I want”, from the movie ‘Grease’.
This was easy for me to do,for my voice was like hers,
And I remembered the lyrics well.

On one side of me, was a woman
She reminded me of a Hillary Clinton type,
And on the other side of me,
Was a tall man who reminded me of Will Ferrell in the movie ‘Elf’,
though his personality was much more reserved.
They were both delegates of some kind from the United Nations.

We danced and walked towards one end of the stage,
and then back to the other end of the stage,
all while linking arms with each other.
(Think of a chorus line of girls, but without the high kicks.)
The steps were very easy, so the delegates could play along without too much trouble.

When I was almost finished singing the song,
I smiled at the guy to the left of me,
And sang a part of it to him.

He stared at me,
And then the singing part of the song was done.
They quickly turned off my microphone,
And we then continued on the line dance,
Till the end of the song.

Other dancers and performers were already entering onto the stage behind us,
But as we went all the way over to the end of the stage,
And before we could go back to the center of the stage and then exit through the back curtain,
(and right at the last few bars of the song,)
The man next to me gasped and clutched his chest,
and then collapsed onto the floor.

I let go of the woman and reached out with my other hand,
And caught him the best that I could,
Though his weight pressed me down to the ground as well.
(I was quite tiny, and he was very tall.)

I held his head in my lap,
And the other dancers were then starting up their song,
So no one really noticed us laying there.
(The spot lights followed the current lead singer and the dancers,
and did not highlight the whole stage at one time.)

He lay there in my arms,
Seemingly unconscious.
I knew that he was having a heart attack,
So I quietly but quickly,
Spoke under my breath,
And began casting out any demons trying to do this to him
In the name of Jesus.

I then called my God’s blessing to come down upon him,
and to heal this man for my sake,
as a favor to one of His beloved children.

I placed my one free hand upon his chest as I said this,
And waited for something to happen.
But nothing did.
I then felt the Holy Spirit tell me within my mind,
To sing in tongues to Him.

So I did.

The singing seemed to relax the muscles of the man a little bit more,
but there was still no obvious discernible movement from his body.

Others had begun to notice us there out on the stage,
And soon the paramedics rushed onto the stage
To come help him.

They rushed forward to begin assessing the man,
And motioned for me to get out of the way.

As I gently let go of his head and stepped back,
There was a short pause as they began taking his readings,
And then suddenly the man gave a loud gasp,
Pulling air into his lungs, as he tried to get back up.

The paramedics backed off,
Clearly startled at the man’s quick recovery,
And watched him as he motioned to the area behind them.

The man yelled out “Wait! Where is she? That woman!
The one dancing with me! She called upon her God and He saved me!”

At that, the small crowd parted, so the man could once again see me,
now standing there a short ways off in the corner.

“That’s the girl! There! In the Corner!”

Others pointed to me, and the man gave a nod in agreement.
“Yes! That’s her! She cried out to her God Jesus,
and asked Him to please save me for her sake, as a favor to her!
She sang and spoke in a odd language,
and then her God Jesus Christ came and saved me!”

Well, at that, the people in charge quickly got all of us off that stage,
(as a matter of damage control,)

And while man went to the local hospital to be checked up,
the authorities arrested me for being a Christian.

The doctors who examined the man,
found that he had indeed suffered from a heart attack,
but was now (somehow,) healed.
Other delegates from his country surrounded him,
And listened to his testimony.
His fellow countrymen believed him,
And wanted to hear more about this girl who had cared enough to try and save their beloved delegate.

But they were told they were not allowed to contact me,
Because I was in prison.

When they found out I was basically being imprisoned
For demonstrating my faith in my God by saving their delegate’s life,
a great uproar among their people came forth,
demanding that I not be punished for this ‘crime’.
They kept up their demands, and became even more vocal,
Until the police were told to set me free.

But the authorities kept a close eye on me,
In case I suddenly became outspoken,
And tried to go out and preach to everyone in the streets.
(I was told that I would end up back in prison if I did this.)

I went straight home,
For I had become sick with a cold while in prison,
And so for the next six weeks or so,
I recuperated in bed,
Thereby remaining silent by default.

The man and his close friends came to try and thank me,
But the authorities were there the whole time,
Making sure no other information about Jesus could be shared.
This did not matter however,
for I knew that the Holy Spirit would find a way to lead the man to Jesus.
I knew that one day soon, his questions would be answered.

The police soon decided that I must have ‘learned my lesson’,
and stopped watching me so intently.
(Little did they know, the Holy Spirit was simply not telling me to go out
and spread the gospel in that manner at this time,
and that was why I remained off the streets.)

The man who had the heart attack,
tried valiantly to spread the word of what had happened to him.
He and his people began to look into this God called Jesus.
They could not understand why our country would forbid it,
if it could do such good things like cure the sick.

The news stations were told not to give it any attention,
and that the hoopla would then soon die down without media attention.

But it didn’t.

The country where this delegate came from,
had a shake down of sorts in their ranks of delegates.
The upper level ones in authority,
did not want this to be ‘blown all out of proportion’,
thereby ruining their chance to keep their ‘good standing’ membership in the U.N.
But the common people, and the delegates closer to the man,
did not care about such things. They wanted to know more about this Jesus,
and they worked to find out more information about Him.
The incident ended up creating a whole other group of believers in Jesus Christ,
within their tiny country.

 

I then woke up.

* * * *

Battling The Demon At Gull Lake Lodge

 
For the past two weeks, our family has been off camping in the hills of California, for our yearly family vacation. After camping out at one of the local campgrounds for several days, we had planned to stay in a motel for a few days, to get cleaned up and rested, before continuing on in our journey. What we found there surprised us, and furthered our lessons in spiritual warfare.

We had reserved a spot in a motel called ‘The Gull Lake Lodge’ located in June Lake, California. They were like a small one bedroom apartment, with two double beds in the one bedroom, and had a futon sofa and a futon chair in the living room. A bathroom and a small galley kitchen with a nook dining room completed the layout. But the best part, (besides the price of the room,) was that they accepted pets. This meant we could take our pets with us, and not have to leave them with our neighbors back home.

I had read some of the reviews on line about the hotel, and they seemed to be really good, with just a few that were really bad. After what we found there, it would not surprise me if we had stumbled on to the underlying reason for those few discontented reviews.

After scouting out the room, one of my kids called me over to where he was standing. “Mom,” he says to me, “You have got to see this!”

There, on the left side arm of the living room’s main sofa, were drawings of an open ended pentagram, and a sliver of a moon, carved into the light wood of the arm. Other odd markings were also beside it, and I knew that they could be remnants from some kind of satanic ceremony. So I went and got out my blessing oil, (simple pure olive oil, prayed over and set aside for anointing purposes,) and applied it over them, claiming in the name of Jesus, that whatever was there, would stay there, and would not be able to come out and bother us.

Oddly however, even after blessing the satanic markings, we realized that no one, not even our pets, would venture over to that corner of the room. We didn’t think too much of it, until bed time.

Twelve midnight, and all was not well. The boys were arguing over who had to have which bed, and one of the other kids was silently crying in her bed. When I asked her why she was crying, she shrugged her shoulders and mumbled something about it all being so hopeless. (VERY unlike her.) The arguing boys soon worked out their decision, but their problems did not stop.

The boy sleeping on the sofa, was struggling greatly just to breathe. His sinuses were clear, so we knew it wasn’t that causing the problem. He said that his heart was racing severely, and he felt like he was choking and could not breathe. This happened only when he was laying down on that sofa futon; the same one that had the images carved into them. When he walked away from the sofa, his breathing cleared and his heart stopped racing.

So we took the futon’s mattress off the wooden frame, and laid it out on the floor, on the other side of the room.

But still, the problems persisted.

I was about to go pray, not knowing what else I could do to deal with the problem, when one of my other boys stopped me.

He told me that he could clearly see the demon, still there in the room, and that is what was troubling my other boy lying on the mattress.

This boy that seen the demon, was the boy that often chooses to not see into the spiritual world, for sometimes what he sees disturbs him. But this time, he insisted on describing to me what he was seeing in great detail, for he felt it was very important to do so.

He could see two large feet trying to balance and touch the floor. They were gray, with four inch long darkened pointed toenails coming out of the feet. He could not see the head. So he looked up to the ceiling, and saw a gray rope with a hangman’s noose on the end of it.

On the back of the demon, there were many items sticking into it, many knives and swords of varying sizes and lengths. My son tried to see the face more clearly, but could only make out red eyes. The rest, God told him, He did not want him to see.

The demon’s feet, was by my other son’s head, the one who was supposed to sleep on that mattress for the night. We thought that sleeping at the other end of the couch might be better. But it wasn’t.

The demon was looking at the boy who was telling me all this, and not at the one trying to sleep on the mattress. It was becoming quite upset, as it realized that this child could actually see him.

At this point, one of the other children, the one sitting on her bed crying in the other room, ventured out to see what was going on. She said she sensed hopelessness, grief, and a spirit of suicide there in the room. She asked for a piece of paper, and began drawing what she was seeing. One was of the demon itself, and the other drawing was what the mattress looked like, as my other son gave up trying to rest upon it.

I told the kids that I didn’t know what else I could do, because I had already used the blessing oil on it, and it didn’t seem to help any. (I was very, very tired, and was sadly at my wits end.)

The son who was watching it quickly and adamantly told me that it DID help, quite a bit, for the oil had formed a light blue force field around the demon, forcing it to be fixed in the corner and remain where it was, and preventing it from venturing too far out into the other rooms.

The drawing my other child drew, showed three large items sticking out of its back; one was a samurai sword, another was a grim reaper scythe, and the third was a stick with a noose on the end of it. The fingernails and toenails were sharply pointed and very black. The eyes she told me, were a piercing bright ruby red. The rest of the demon was all gray.

Both of these children felt very strongly, that all of the wood on the futon was infected by this demon, not just where the carvings were. All of my kids felt that the person who had completed the ritual, had then committed suicide. I wondered if it had been in the motel room, but they felt it had taken place somewhere else, probably at the person’s home.

The kids discussed what they felt would help, and decided that we should all bless each other with the anointing oil, and claim protection from the demon. Once we did this, we all felt better, but still the demon remained.

I turned to the Lord in my mind, wondering what else I could do, and suddenly remembered the Gideon’s Bible I had seen earlier in the bedside table drawer in the other room. So I went and got it out, and turned to Psalm 91, and began to read it out loud. (Psalm 91 is what the Old Testament priests used to say out loud in the temple, whenever evil tried to attack them there. I figured if it was good enough for them, then it would work for me as well, for as a believer, I too, am a priest of the Most High God.)

I also claimed that as we had paid rent to the owners of this room, for the few days of our stay, the room was now within our jurisdiction, and had become our territory for the length of our stay. This meant that for the rented duration, we held the spiritual  authority over it, and as such, could now legally restrain any evil from harming us. I also then asked Jesus to please send His big warrior angels down from heaven, to encamp around us and protect us, and to fight our battles in the unseen world.

One of my kids then told me that it might help if the boy laying on the affected mattress quoted Psalm 91. So I had the child repeat it after me, verse after verse, until the end. At that point, all the kids were all able to get to bed and rest, without any evil spiritual interference. 

The next morning, no one complained that the demon had attacked them any further after the events of the night before, but I still wondered if it would be better if we should request another hotel room, now that there were vacancies available. But we all dreaded the work of having to move all of our stuff, and who’s to say that we might not find similar carvings and problems in another room?

In the end, we decided to stay, but to not request to stay another night as we had hoped to, for there were other problems that we faced in the motel room as well. Fleas jumping up onto us and biting us while we slept, light bulbs burnt out leaving us in the dark, propane leakage from the oven and from the larger propane storage tank near by, a severely uncomfortable chair futon mattress, which made it impossible to sleep on, (we had to go and get extra pillows and pads from the car to use instead,) mold in the bathroom and somewhere hidden in the bedroom, and an odd odorous smell underlying one of the mattresses in the bedroom. (I think they may have tried to cover up whatever it is with some kind of perfumed deodorizer, but it didn’t quite work.) Help from the caretaker was not forthcoming, (we contacted them about the light bulb and received no known response,) so we gave up on asking about anything else.

Sad though. The caretaker and owner of this motel may not even have any idea what’s going on in this room, (room number 2,) and I’m not sure if they are even believers. They have responded quite defensively to any who would post a negative review of their stay with them, and have even tried to put the blame back on the people who had complained, claiming they were the ones who had the problem and were crazy and impossible to work with. But I can’t help but wonder…what if the negative reviews were all because of the demonic haunting taking place in that room?