When pestilence stalks in the darkness, no fear
Settled in bed late at night, we’d hear it. Someone overhead, walking quiet, walking soft on the wooden floorboards. Often, it was one of the boys. “Go to bed!” we’d call up the stairs, and off he’d go to his, and back we’d go to ours.
However. Once in awhile, hearing movement, I’d go up, angry, looking for the up-too-late kid so I could send him packing. And I’d find that they were all in bed, lights out, upstairs dark. “Huh,” I’d think. “Maybe one of ’em’s playing possum.”
Then one night, earlier this week, we heard it again. Rising, my husband called up the stairs to the one still awake, “Go. To. Bed.”
“Dad, it’s not me. I hear it, too, footsteps just outside my door, and then they stop.” He’d get up, he said, wondering who was coming, and throw open the door to find–nothing. Which is when we knew this was no ordinary thing, and I picked up my phone, and I messaged.
“Are you at the coffee shop?” she messaged me back. “It won’t take long.”
And that’s how I came to sit down yesterday morning across from my friend and mentor, a wise, powerful woman, strong in the faith and seasoned in battle. She had, quite remarkably, no fear. Not a flicker. Not a twinge, and she opened her mouth, teaching wisdom. Laid it out, shedding light, giving truth.
No fear.
“It’s a pest, you’ve got power, take authority. It’s trying to incite you to fear. This is your house,” she said with confidence ringing. “It’syour house. You command it to leave.”
And then, “Do this.”
Last night, upon returning home, we set out. Starting at one corner, my brave, valiant husband and I began to walk. In his hand? A flashlight, giving light for the path straight ahead, and a cup of olive oil. In my hand? A flashlight, too, and the weapon that never will fail–God’s Word, Holy Scripture, shining in the night on my phone.
At the southwest corner of our property line, we stopped, and Brave Man poured oil upon the ground with these words, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Amen.
We began to walk, shining the light and reading aloud Psalms 91, step-step-stepping truth-power along our boundary lines. “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.’” Step, step, step. Truth and light.
“Surely He will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover with feathers…under His wings…refuge, faithfulness and shields.” Step, step, step. Light. Truth.
Reaching the southeast corner, we stopped. Once more, Brave Man poured olive oil down to grass, onto dirt, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Amen.
“You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness.” Step, step, step, pressing forward, covering the physical lines with light. With truth. With power.
At the northeast corner again, we pause to consecrate our land with oil in the powerful and wonderful name of God. And step, step, step, praying all along to the next corner where we stop again, and then at last…
At the front door of our home, one last time, my husband dips his fingers in the cup and, reaching up, anoints the door frame and the posts of the door with oil, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
Passover, deliverance, mercy and rest just as in Israel’s days. They’ve come here to our land. Here, to our home. Here, in our hearts.
And we slept all night just like babies!
In no way do I mean to sensationalize evil. I implore you not to focus on that part of this story. The part that’s sensational–and I mean truly sensational–is the power of Christ and the authority we have over evil. We have His presence, His power and His weaponry, and we never have to bow the knee to satan. He reigns, Jesus reigns, and there’s no pestilence stalking in darkness that can stand in the light and the presence of Christ.
Amen and amen. Light and truth.