When I was 21, I was in one of the darkest seasons of my
life. I was in my fifth year at Berry College in Rome, Georgia, and I was a
mess. I was a lost soul looking for any sort of validation. But I wasn’t
necessarily looking to fix myself. I had a job. I hadn’t been expelled (yet). I
had a condo. I had a girlfriend. People from afar still saw me as having it
together. But, man, was I not together—drinking heavily whenever I could,
sleeping till noon, and missing work all the time. I didn’t have a name for it,
although now I can look back and see that I was suffering from heavy depression
and anxiety. I was 2,500 miles away from my parents. I felt so alone. I had
slowly but surely pushed away all my friends.
It was a pretty scary and sad time. Sad is the easy word to
define here. But I was also scared, and that word is a little harder to nail
down. What did I have to be scared of? Nobody was after me. I had parents who
loved me. But I felt this fear. I didn’t know why. It just lingered.
“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but
against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark
world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12).
Man, I wish I had known more about this struggle back then.
I didn’t. But I was about to be right in the middle of it. It was a Wednesday
night in the middle of summer. Somehow I had figured out a way to extend going
to a four-year liberal arts school into almost six years. My girlfriend had
broken up with me the day before. Looking back, I don’t blame her. I was a hot
mess. The week before, I had been fired from my job at Buffalo’s. I had stopped
showing up. And on this particular Wednesday, I just sat in my condo and
cried. How had my life ended up so sad, and why did I have this feeling
of fear? I wasn’t telling anyone about my struggle. I was determined
to figure it out on my own.
That night, after spending the entire day inside my duplex,
I remember feeling even more fear. It was kinda spooking me a bit. I checked
all the closets to make sure nobody was in them. (Don’t fool yourself; you’ve
done this before.) I remember even praying a shotgun prayer before I fell
asleep. It was a heart cry loaded with, Dear Lord, help me not feel
this way when I wake up.
I woke up around 3:00 am. The feeling that came over me can
only be described as dark. I had never felt so scared in my life. I pulled the
covers over my head and started praying.
Dear God, I pray that you make this stop. I’m so sorry. I
promise I’ll behave, God. Please. Whatever is in here, make it leave!
I knew nothing was in my room, but I knew something was in
my room. The darkness was darker than just the lights being off and the sun yet
to rise. Something was up. And that something was dark. My window was open, and
the curtains were flapping a bit more than normal. I was freaking out. After
about two minutes of nonstop prayer, I knew I needed to be rescued from
whatever was happening in my duplex that night. I needed my dad, so I jumped
out of bed and ran to the kitchen to call him.
Yes, I had to get out of bed to call him. The phone was 15
feet away. This was before cell phones.
Why would I call my dad? Because although I didn’t know much
about this whole dark, evil, and spiritual warfare stuff, I was most certain
that I was in it right then. And I was sure that my dad would know how to help
me out of it.
It was midnight in Fresno, California, where he lived. Would
he even hear the phone ring when I called? I hoped so. I flipped the light
switch on, and as I reached for the phone to dial his number, it rang. Read
that again: Right as I was reaching for the telephone, it rang. And it rang.
And it rang.
I had never, nor have I since, felt as scared as I was in
that moment.
What was going on? Was I going to pick up the phone and hear
the voice of Skeletor on the other end?
Everything froze. I slowly reached for the phone, picked it
up, and put it to my ear.
“Carlos, it’s dad. It’s okay. I love you. I was woken up to
pray for you, and I want you to know it’s okay. It’s time to come home, son.
It’s time to come home.”
I grew up in a Southern Baptist home where we sang hymns and
nobody lifted their hands in worship. I didn’t grow up in a house where we
talked about this spiritual warfare stuff. I didn’t grow up in a church where
people fought against demons and things that go bump in the night.
But you know what I did grow up in? I grew up in a home
where I would seldom go a day without seeing my father on his knees with the
Father. My dad was a giant. And apparently he had direct access to the Holy
Spirit ’cause things just got crazy.
You see, that is the sort of moment that you can’t ignore.
You can’t forget.
Guess what I did.
I didn’t say a thing. I just cried. My dad prayed for me and
then hung up. Then I started packing. I packed up everything I could fit into
my Honda Accord. I mean everything. And the next morning when my
Vietnamese neighbors I shared a wall with woke up, I let them know they could
have everything I’d left in my duplex. “What happened? Where are you going?”
they asked me.
“I’m going to be with my dad because whatever he has, I want
it. I want all of it.” And I drove west from Rome, Georgia, heading toward
Fresno, California. I had no idea at the time that I would not return to
Georgia. But I did know that I needed to sit under my father’s roof again. I
needed to pay attention to whatever I had been ignoring for so long. I believed
it now.
Yeah, it took a crazy moment like that for me to believe. And even
still, to this day, sometimes I think things like, It was a
coincidence. Every once in a while, the stars align. What are the chances? And,
every time, the response I get back from God is, “Yeah, Carlos, what are the
chances?”
The battle is real, my friends. The sooner we accept that,
the sooner our spider killing can begin. And the sooner the spider dies.
You may have heard the saying, “The greatest trick the Devil
ever pulled was to make you think he doesn’t exist.” When we sit in denial of
the reality of spiritual warfare, we are denying the enemy exists and that he
is trying to distract us from the work God wants us to do to clean out the
cobwebs and get rid of our spiders. So much of the struggle we face comes from
the enemy feeding us lies and us buying into them.
The sooner you stop allowing
him to have control, the sooner you can get on to living without cobwebs in
your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment