The Other Side of Darkness (23 page)

I nod.

“Close your eyes and relax,” she tells me in a soothing voice as she places her hand on my shoulder. Cynthia puts a hand on my
other shoulder. “Breathe deeply … just relax … allow the Holy Spirit to wash over you …”

I sit and do as she says, breathing deeply, trying to relax.

“Now tell me, Ruth, is it true that you were sexually abused as a child?”

My eyes pop open, and I stare at her. “
What?”

“Close your eyes, Ruth. Relax and be honest, or this won’t work.”

I close my eyes, but I am certainly not relaxed. Sexually abused? Where did she come up with that?

I hear her taking in a deep breath, then slowly exhaling. “I sense in my spirit that you have been sexually abused. And I’m very sensitive to this … because I too was molested … by my father … so I understand. You can trust me. I know that you were victimized by your father. Don’t say anything. Just be quiet and think about what I’m saying.” And then she goes into a very detailed description of a small girl being molested by her father. I feel repulsed and almost physically ill as I listen to the horrifying story. I want her to stop talking, but she keeps telling me to stay quiet and to just listen.

“Do you remember this?” she finally asks me. “Keep your eyes closed and allow the Spirit to guide you. Some memories get so repressed that we can only remember them in the Spirit. Is this familiar to you?”

“No.”

“You’re resisting the Spirit, Ruth. Don’t be so quick to say no. Take a deep breath, and listen to me … let your spirit listen to me … don’t resist the truth … it will set you free.”

So I listen again as she goes into even more detail, and I’m shocked that she actually seems to be describing my bedroom. “Pastel blue walls … white eyelet curtains …”

“Yes,” I admit, “that sounds like my room as a child. But everything else … everything else is wrong.”

“You need to go back to that room, Ruth. You need to be that little girl again … you need to feel …,” and she continues elaborating on her horrible tale. Her words seem to press into me, almost as if she really does know something that I’ve repressed and forgotten, almost as if the Lord really is revealing a deep horrible memory to her—something I have buried deep.

I leap up from the chair, holding my hand over my mouth. “I’m going to be sick.” I dash toward the little hallway where I hope a bathroom is handy. Cynthia is by my side, helping me to find the toilet, where I throw up—again and again. As I’m throwing up, I can hear Bronte and Cynthia praying loudly, in the Spirit, and I can feel their hands on my back.

“Be gone, you filthy spirit!” yells Cynthia. “Out of her, you disgusting vile creature!”

“Let this woman be!” Bronte speaks with authority. “Spirit of lust and lies and condemnation, depart from her at once.”

The whole thing takes less than an hour. And when they are done, I feel so weak and empty that I don’t know if my legs can support me. I don’t think I can even walk from the bathroom to the living room. The two women support me on both sides, helping me to the couch, where I lie down and close my eyes.

W
hat the devil is going on?” Rick demands the moment I walk into the house. It’s nearly midnight, and he’s probably been worried.

“Sorry.” I set my purse on the hall tree, then slowly remove my coat.

“Sorry?” He frowns at me. “That’s all you have to say? Sorry?”

“Sorry I worried you.”

“Where have you been?”

“At a meeting.”

“I drove by that so-called church of yours,” he tells me in a cold tone. “No one was there, Ruth.”

“The meeting was at Cynthia’s.”

“And it lasted this late?”

“It was a prayer meeting.” I walk toward the bedroom.

“You told me you weren’t feeling too good earlier today.” He stays right on my heels as he follows me into our bedroom. “So I take the girls and give you some time to rest, and then you run off to some stupid prayer meeting that lasts until midnight? What’s going on with you, Ruth?”

“I didn’t feel well earlier. But they prayed for me, and now I feel better. Just tired.” I sit on the edge of the bed, slowly removing my shoes.

“You’re always tired.”

I know what he means by this—that I’m always tired in the bedroom. But the truth is, I really am right now, and I want to change the subject. “Did Matthew get home?”

“Yeah, that’s another thing, Ruth. He called from Jason’s apartment. He said that you told him to move out and that he’s going to stay at Jason’s place now, that he’ll pick up his stuff tomorrow.” Rick bends over, putting his face in front of mine, studying me so closely that it feels like he’s trying to see into my head. And maybe he is. “You told our son to
move out?”

“I told him he couldn’t live here if he was going to keep drinking and disobeying our rules.”

“How’s this going to help him? He moves out and spends all his money on rent, and probably booze, so he’ll never save up enough for college. What kind of life do you want him to have, Ruth? He’s our son, for Pete’s sake!”

“Yes, he is our son. But he isn’t living for the Lord right now. He’s fallen away from everything we’ve taught him. He’s rebelling. We can’t have that kind of influence around the girls.” I’m glaring at my husband now. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Rick?”

He swears and then turns and leaves the room. I’m glad he’s gone. I hope he falls asleep in front of the television, the way he does so many nights. I wonder how what we have can even be considered a marriage. I put on my pajamas and get into bed and turn out the light. But the darkness feels heavy, oppressive. And I know that despite my earlier purging of the house, despite tonight’s purging of my spirit, the demons are still here.

I remember Cynthia saying how we must always do warfare, so I turn the light on, get down on my knees, and begin to pray. But
I keep my eyes open this time. I remember Bronte’s promise that we will be able to see and to hear these spirits if we are really filled with the Lord’s Spirit. And as I kneel by the bed, staring at Rick’s side of the room, at the chair where he lays his clothes at night, where his brown uniform is lying right now, I see it! I see a demon crouching beside the chair, clinging to that brown uniform and smirking at me.

At first I am too frightened to pray. My mouth is dry as paper, and my hands are shaking. But I have to deal with this. I have to bind this demon and cast him out of this room.

“In the name of Jesus, depart,” I say in a trembling voice. Then I say it again with more confidence. Again and again I repeat these six words, and I can feel the power in them, and finally the demon is gone. But just to be safe, I pick up Rick’s clothes and tiptoe out to the laundry room and drop them into the dirty clothesbasket.

I can hear the television in the family room as I slip back through the kitchen. It’s one of those violent action movies Rick is so fond of, the kind I abhor and refuse to allow the girls to watch. Although Rick has taught Matthew to love this kind of movie, which probably explains a lot.

As I tiptoe to the bedroom, it occurs to me that, of course, the television shouldn’t be in this house. If anything is full of evil and demonic influence, surely it’s television. And that’s when I decide that it too must go. But not while Rick is around. He will throw a fit. But maybe someday he’ll understand. Maybe the Lord will show him that I’m only doing what Rick has failed to do. I am protecting this family!

The next morning I wake up to find that Rick’s side of the bed hasn’t been slept in. Suspecting that he’s asleep in his recliner, I go out
to see if my hunch is right but am surprised to find him in the kitchen, actually fixing breakfast. He has sausage cooking and is cracking eggs into a bowl.

Of course, this only makes me feel guilty. First of all for worrying him last night, then for treating him so badly, and finally for making him do my work. Why am I so useless?

“The girls are getting ready for church.” He glances at the kitchen clock above the stove.

“Good,” I say, still feeling guilty.

“There’s coffee.” He nods over to the coffee maker.

I pour myself a cup. “Sorry about last night. I should’ve called.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You should’ve.”

“Sorry …”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t completely blame you for what’s happening. I think it’s partly due to those religious weirdos you’ve been hanging out with. They go too far, Ruth, and they take you with them.”

I don’t respond to this. How can I expect him to understand?

“And that’s why we’re going to church at VBF today.”

Now I turn and glare at him. “I’m not going to church at VBF.”

“Well, I am. And so are the girls. I already told them, and they were happy about it.”

“They like our new church.”

“No, Ruth, they think it’s a freak show. And sure, kids tend to like freak shows. But not on a regular basis. No, we’re going to VBF today. It’s settled.”

“It might be settled for you, but it’s not for me.” I march off to the girls’ room. “Are you girls going to church with me this morning?” I ask brightly.

“Uh, Dad said we were going back to VBF.” Mary sets down her hairbrush, looking uncomfortable.

“Not exactly,” I say in a calm voice. “I’m still going to the new church, and anyone who wants to come with me is welcome.” I glance over at Sarah, who is tugging on a stubborn pair of tights.

“Where were you last night, Mommy?” she asks as I go over and help her to straighten out the legs.

“I was at a meeting. Sister Bronte was there.”

“Sister Bronte?” Sarah brightens. “Did she sing?”

“No. But she’ll be singing at church today. It’s going to be a special service.” I know for a fact this is true. Cynthia told me that the name of our church is to be made known today.

So it is that our family is divided this morning. But I think I can see a little bit of regret in Mary’s eyes as she watches Sarah and me getting into the new car and heading off to the new church. She’ll come with us on Wednesday when her dad is at work and unable to negatively influence her. Rick might’ve won this battle, but he is not going to win this war.

I’m surprised that even more chairs are filled in church today, one more row than we had on Wednesday night. I know we had some radio ads this week, but I’m still amazed that we’re growing so quickly. Sarah and I find seats near the front, next to Cynthia. She quietly explains that most of the new faces are from the Assembly church on Parker Drive.

“Did you hear they just went through a big church split?” she whispers. “Good timing, don’t you think?”

I nod, then look toward the front as the music starts, and soon
we are all on our feet, singing and clapping. Sarah is smiling and swaying to the music, and I’m so glad she came. By next Sunday both girls will be here. I can’t imagine Rick getting up early every Sunday. Not even to spite me. He’s too lazy.

After the worship time, Sister Bronte steps forward and lifts her hands. “The Lord has shown me that his Spirit is going to come upon us like a new fire. Everyone in our congregation must pass through the flames. Just as gold is put through the inferno to remove imperfections, we will be burned with new fire to remove the evil in our lives. And through us, this same fire will purge this entire town and everyone in it like a wildfire roaring down the streets, destroying evil until only the good remains. With heated flames the Spirit will cleanse. Like a new fire.” Sister Bronte’s arms fall to her sides, and she sighs as if exhausted—and the room is silent.

Now Brother Glenn steps up beside her. “Sister Bronte’s prophecy is from the Lord,” he declares as she steps down and takes a seat. “And from this prophecy, straight from the Lord’s heart, we have decided upon the name of our church.” He points to where a sheet is hanging over what appears to be a large board. Brother Carl is standing off to one side.

“Go ahead,” says Brother Glenn. And Carl pulls off the sheet to reveal a sign. “New Fire,” proclaims Brother Glenn. “The name of this church is New Fire.” Then he holds his Bible like a torch and says, “Jesus’ followers waited in the upper room for his Holy Spirit.” He sets down the Bible and leans forward on the podium, looking out over the congregation intently. “And the Spirit blasted through that upper room,” he says in a loud voice. “Like a wildfire the Spirit roared through their midst! And power came upon all who were present. Power unlike anything they’d ever seen before. And they spoke in
tongues and drove out demons, and lives were changed—drastically changed. And why”—he shakes his fist in the air—“why, I ask you, should it be any different for us?”

Several “amens” ring out. And Brother Glenn continues to preach. “We live in evil times, brothers and sisters, where every form of filth and sin abounds. You can find it on the Internet, you can hear it on the airwaves, you can see it on your televisions. Our country, our culture, has been invaded by a flood of filth and smut, and that’s what the demons dine on: filth and smut and sin. And, believe me, brothers and sisters, there is plenty to go around. And just like rats in a filthy city, the demons are reproducing rapidly. Where there was one yesterday, there are ten today! But the Lord is going to unleash his Spirit, like a wildfire, and he is going to burn this place clean. Beginning right here.” He thumps his own chest. “Yes, that’s where it starts, isn’t it? Within your own heart, within your own corrupt soul. So I invite all of you to come forward right now. Come forward and ask the Lord to burn his Spirit like a new fire right through your soul. Ask him to purge your filth with his holy flames. As the music plays, come up here and let us pray for you now.”

Cynthia nudges me. “Do you feel ready to pray with people, Ruth?”

“You want me to actually pray for them?”

She nods. “You are part of the church staff.”

I glance at Sarah, who looks a little frightened. “They need me to pray with people. Can you wait for me?”

She nods, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable.

“Come on, Ruth,” urges Cynthia. “People need prayer.”

So I give Sarah a quick, nervous smile and then follow Cynthia up to the front. I am relieved to find that she wants me to partner
with her. So I try to imitate her as she prays, and I even come up with a few things on my own. Rather, the Lord inspires me, and together we pray, casting out demons and binding Satan’s power, and we unleash the Spirit to burn with holy fire … new fire.