My 13-year-old son and I had been living in a suburb of a southern city for almost a year. We had moved down there from a small town in the Northeast to be closer to family after struggling to make ends meet following a divorce from his father.
We stayed with one of my brothers and his family until I could afford an apartment. I was never very fond of city living, but figured staying close to my brother would be safer than moving farther out to the country where I knew absolutely no one.
My son and I joined a church soon after we arrived where I re-dedicated my life to God. I had made the choice to follow God way back in my teens, but just as some of the kids of that era did, I promptly walked in the opposite direction. Looking back, it seemed just as promptly that I began to make some pretty stupid choices.
Now, here I was, 35 years old, a single mom with no real profession to speak of, having only basic skills. The job choices were not many. Still, all in all, we seemed to be doing okay.
Having rededicated my life to live for God, I was soaking in everything the pastor had to teach. I was on fire to learn as much as I could as fast as I could. I guess I was trying to make up for lost time.
No matter how many principals and morals that were coming alive for me through the wonderful calming scriptures, I couldn’t shake this inner fear of living in a city. At the time, I had misread the emotion and just figured I was claustrophobic.
One night, I was picking my son up from youth group when he introduced me to a young boy about his own age. I asked him if he needed a ride home and his face became very serious. He said he would walk. I asked him where he lived. The town he lived in was a good seven miles away! It was well after dark and, being a mom, I could not see him walking that far safely. I sensed a bit of embarrassed pride; maybe he was ashamed of his neighborhood or something. Well, I certainly was not judging this young man. So, treading as lightly as possible, I coaxed him into accepting a ride. His next words startled me. He said, “Where I live it is not a safe place for you to be around at this time of night.” I remember saying something about God protecting us. He shook his head and said that people should not be testing God’s goodness like this. But he got in the car and allowed me to drive him home.
The ride to his house was uneventful, but the closer we got to his neighborhood, the more I understood just what he had meant. I made sure he was safely inside his home before continuing on to our apartment.
That night after my son was asleep, and the friend of ours that was visiting from up North was settled on the couch, I was laying in bed thanking God for His wonderfulness. I thanked Him for keeping us safe and providing for us. I must have fallen asleep while praying.
My next conscious thought was being in a house with my best friend’s daughter. I knew I must have been dreaming because she still lived back home and was about 10 years old. In the dream she was five years old and holding very tightly to my hand. I didn’t recognize the house and had no idea how we got there. All I knew was I had to find our way out of there.
It was nighttime and the house was totally dark inside. The only illumination seemed to be coming from the TV. I stood in the doorway to this room looking for an exit. There was a doorway at the other end of the room. I remember walking around all these people who were apparently sleeping. When we got to the next doorway and passed through it, we found we were in another room. Basically, every room had people sleeping on the floor with only TV light for illumination and every door only led into another room.
Then suddenly, my young friend was gone. I found I was lying on a bed with a TV on a dresser at the foot of the bed. I did not want to look at whatever was on the TV so I had my head turned to the side and I was trying to pray. I didn’t know where my little friend had gone and I was trying to pray for her safety. As I was beginning to pray, a being in the form of a very slender woman started to rise from the foot of the bed. She was dressed in a black bodysuit and her face was painted in big patches of black and white with no skin showing at all, like the old rock group, Kiss. Her hair was jet black. Even though her face was painted, I could tell she was very angry with me.
She started to climb on the bed right on top of me. I could feel her weight but felt very powerless to do anything. The fear was almost choking me. My mind was saying all the words to God, but I couldn’t seem to talk. My mouth and throat had gone bone dry. By this time her face was only inches from mine. She was actually hissing at me. The look in her eyes showed her hatred for me. I realized that she knew that I was praying and that she hated me all the more for it. I knew that she wanted to kill me. In the dream I also knew that I needed to speak the words out loud. I had to not show her any fear. But every time I tried to speak, I could only croak out a syllable or two. As the fear rose, so did my focus on speaking out loud. Finally, I croaked out the only thing I knew to say in this kind of danger, “Satan get behind me in the name of Jesus!” When she heard me say those words, her anger flew to a rage. She raised her arm and took a full swing at me. The force and speed of it would have snapped my neck, probably killing me instantly. As her hand came within about six inches of the side of my head, it stopped! It was as if it hit a brick wall or forcefield of some kind. The shock of her not connecting with my head hit us both at the same time. My absolute disbelief was mirrored in her eyes. All I could croak out was “Thank You Jesus! Praise You God!”
Instantly, I was awake and sat up in my bed. I could not believe what had just happened. My mouth was still very dry. My friend was in the doorway asking if I was all right. As far as I had known, I hadn’t made any noise. I said I was okay and all it was, was a nightmare. My friend said they thought so because they could hear me growling all the way in the living room. I didn’t recount my dream. At least, not then.
It wasn’t until halfway through the next day that the full meaning of this dream hit me. Once and for all, I fully understood that by choosing to walk in God’s light, frightening things might come around me and even come at me, but because I was a child of God, nothing would harm me. I understood what my son’s young friend had been trying to say. He was trying to tell me that if someone was warned that a place was not safe and walked into it anyway, they were testing God, and a person shouldn’t do that. Along with the understanding of what he was trying to say came the understanding of what God had been trying to tell me ever since I moved down there. Which was that I could walk with confidence knowing that I had the full power of his protection with me at all times.
I had taken that young boy home the night before, not as a cocky woman testing God’s protection, but as a sincere mom trusting God to protect me when I was in a situation that I felt was beyond my control. I could not have let that boy walk home.
My son is now a grown man. I have since moved back up North. And since the night I had that dream, I have never walked in fear again!