There have been demons in my house. I’ve sensed this for a long time. It’s this ominous, oppressive presence whenever I walk in the front door. But today? They lost. We routed them good–my gal friend, myself, and God. (Oh God, she was there right when I needed her, though before this evening she was little more than a fellow writer and a stranger). We routed them good, as I spent hours over at her house talking, crying, and her praying over me.
I told them to flee, in Christ’s name. I told them to leave me alone, to leave him alone, to leave my family alone (because the best way to attack me is through my family), and to leave his family alone. It is not the first time I’ve prayed like this, nor will, I think, it be the last. If you’re doing God’s work, you’re going to be attacked. I’ve always undergone the most spiritual attack when I was in the middle of demolishing strongholds.
I walked in the front door tonight. The house was quiet, dark, and still. But that evil presence? It was gone. I felt like I could actually breathe, it was so stark a difference. I had commanded them to flee as I drove home, and they fled. And I welcome God in. His wisdom shall be my guidance, his Counsel in my ear. The devil shall not have my family.
I will break the generational curses of passive aggression, controlling people, using “worry” as an excuse to control, letting people outside our family be abusive, etc. And I will put up boundaries. I am a grown woman. I am not a child. I will honor my father and my mother, but that does not mean I will allow them to be passive aggressive or controlling towards me. Both things run back generations in my family. I am where it will stop. Control and manipulation, in whatever form it takes, is uncool, and I am not okay with that.
My specialty are giants. I’ve known that ever since my years off at WWU. Bring ’em on. My God is bigger.