The Other Side of Darkness (36 page)

No, I’m more like Daniel when he was placed in the lions’ den because he was unwilling to bow down to false gods. And I too am unwilling to bow down to false gods, including Rick’s pagan tree that currently dominates the living room and consequently our entire home. Even if I am forced to live out here in the cold and dark, it will be better than giving in to Satan’s control within our household.

D
addy is coming to church with us today,” Sarah says with excitement as I help her with her hair.

“What?” I feel like someone has just jerked the floor out from under me. Church is the one place where I can be free of Rick, free of his condemnation, his evil influence, his menacing ways. How can it be that he wants to come with us?

“Daddy wants to see Mary and me do our music,” she says as I fasten a barrette.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mommy, he said that he’s coming.” She turns and smiles at me. “Isn’t that great! Maybe our prayers for him are working!”

“Maybe …” I turn away. I don’t want her to see the frown growing on my face. “Finish getting ready,” I tell her as I leave the bathroom. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.” Then I go and find Rick standing in the kitchen, and it does look like he’s cleaned up a bit, as if perhaps he is considering going to church.

“Sarah said you’re going to church with us.” I frown at him.

“Is that a problem?” He frowns back.

“Well, it might be …”

“Are you saying I’m not welcome at your church? Is this some kind of exclusive church? Do you need to have a membership card to get in the door?”

“No, of course not. But if you’re coming to judge and to gawk, well, then you’re probably not welcome.”

“I’m coming to see what kind of church this is.” He narrows his eyes. “I want to see what you’re exposing our daughters to.” Then he smiles as he sees Mary coming into the kitchen, all dressed and ready for church. “And I want to hear the girls perform.”

“We don’t call it
performing
at church. The girls are
contributing
. The Lord has no need for performers. Besides, you could hear them
perform
at home if you like.”

“That’s not the same.” He pats Mary on the head. “Is it, sweetheart?”

She smiles back at him. “Well, I hope I don’t goof up. Playing in front of so many people does make me a little nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “The Lord will help you.”

So it is that the Jackson family, all except Matthew, walk into church together. But I am not happy about this. Not one bit.

“Why don’t you help your dad to find seats,” I say to the girls. “I need to speak to Sister Cynthia about something.”

As soon as they’re on their way, I find Cynthia and explain the situation. “I realize that Rick is probably bringing some very bad spirits with him. I just felt someone should be warned.”

“Do you think he’ll let us do deliverance prayer for him?” she asks hopefully.

I frown. “I seriously doubt it … but you never know. The Lord can do anything.”

“Well, I’ll tell Brother Glenn about it. And Sister Bronte. I’m sure we’ll all be fervently praying against his spirits.”

I thank her, then greet a few other friends, and as the music begins to play, I go over to where Rick and the girls are seated. I’m
relieved to see the girls are flanking their dad, which means I don’t have to sit directly next to him. However, I do feel bad for their sakes. And I have to ask myself what kind of mother allows her children to be exposed to someone like him? And how much longer will I put up with it?

I am so nervous and uncomfortable about Rick’s presence here that all I can do is stare at the bright banner that hangs on the wall behind the pulpit. I helped Cynthia make it a couple of weeks ago, carefully cutting felt pieces into flamelike shapes of red, orange, and yellow to create a frame around the words—Sister Bronte’s inspiration and a word from the Lord. To keep my mind off Rick, I read the lines over and over.
Go through the fire, pass through the flame, on the other side, emerge pure and clean
. Again and again I silently repeat the words, imagining myself passing through the fiery test and coming out pure and clean … on the other side.
Go through the fire, pass through the flame, on the other side, emerge pure and clean
.

Suddenly the service is ending, and I realize that I have missed not only the entire sermon but also my own daughters’ musical contribution. Still, I am so eager to get Rick out of here that I rush for the exit. Thankfully, Rick and the girls follow, and soon we’re out in the parking lot, and I am hugely relieved. Not because I want to escape the fellowship of brothers and sisters, but because I want to remove Rick’s influence from this holy place. His presence here may have contaminated the worship. I hope I don’t hear of any terrible repercussions from others, although I feel personally defiled. It’s bad enough to share a house with a sinner like Rick, but it’s even worse to share the house of the Lord!

“Man, was that weird,” he says as soon as we’re in the car.

I glance at him but don’t say anything.

“Did you think so too?” There’s a trace of hope in his voice.

I still don’t say anything as I buckle my seat belt.

“Is it always that weird?” he asks as he starts the car.

“Oh, it can be even weirder,” Mary says from the backseat. I turn around and glare at her, but she just grins.

“It’s not weird, Daddy,” says Sarah. “It’s what the Lord wants from his children.”

Rick shakes his head and drives out of the parking lot. “I don’t think so, Sarah. I don’t think God wants his children to be full of fear.”

“We’re not full of fear!” I snap at him.

He kind of laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“We do have a fear of the Lord,” I say. “And we also have a healthy fear of the Enemy. Satan is a liar and a thief, and he’s out to destroy.” I point at him. “Look at your own life, and you should see that it’s true.”

“What?” He looks at me with disbelief.

“You’ve given Satan the upper hand.”

Just then we hear a horn blasting, and Rick stomps on the brakes and narrowly misses hitting the car in the other lane.

“Just pay attention to your driving, and get us home safely,” I say in a brittle voice.

The drive home is very quiet, and as soon as Rick is out of the car and stomping angrily into the house, I ask the girls if they want to go do something fun with me. Of course, they are game. But now I have to think of something that will be fun. I mentally go through the list of options, remembering things we’ve done in the past to entertain ourselves. But now I can see how evil and corrupt all those activities really are. And I’m shocked to think of how much time and energy we wasted on such sinful foolishness.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” asks Sarah.

I try to think of something we can do that won’t be sinful, something that will honor the Lord and be enjoyable too. But all I do is drive around town. Oh, we pray against the Enemy as we pass through bad neighborhoods, but soon the girls are tired of this joyless joyride, and I take us back home, driving slowly and preparing myself for whatever awaits us there. How I wish for a safe haven, a place where I could rest. But our earthly life is not meant to be a time of rest. Our earthly life is about battles and dividing lines and spiritual warfare. But oh how I long for respite.

To my enormous relief, Rick’s pickup is not in the driveway. I pull into the garage and let out a deep sigh. Maybe I will get some spiritual rest after all. Although Rick won’t stay away forever. And I know that my temporary peace comes at a price. But any hope of peace is extinguished when the dogs begin to wildly bark. They do this every time we enter the house, pounding themselves against the french doors as if they might crash through the double panes of glass. Seeing their eyes glowing in the light from the kitchen, I am reminded of two demons, and I feel that familiar surge of spiritual adrenaline rushing through me. I feel myself getting on my guard, getting ready for action. Ready to pray against their dark power.

But then, I reassure myself, those are just our dogs, and they are simply doing their job by barking at all who enter our home. Just the same, I open the door and yell at them to be quiet and to quit jumping. After they settle down, I bring them into the house, where they immediately begin to frantically sniff all around as if they suspect something unwelcome is here. I wonder if animals are able to detect demonic intruders.

I follow the curious dogs through the house until they finally end
up in the living room. The dogs stand attentively, staring at the Christmas tree Rick has forced upon us, almost as if they understand that it is all wrong, that it doesn’t belong in our home. I feel like commanding them to attack the offensive evergreen, but I doubt they would understand. Still, it is some consolation to know that, like me, they are not comfortable with this pagan symbol. Although it saddens me to think that mere dogs have more spiritual discernment than my own husband.
God help us
.

A
fter the girls finish today’s homeschool assignments, I give them an extra-credit project that is more of a treat than schoolwork since it involves reading, measuring, and thinking. “You girls get to make Christmas cookies.” I open my favorite cookbook to the cutcookie page. “But no Santas or reindeer. You can only use symbols that represent Jesus.” Mary gives me a little flak, but Sarah gets into the spirit of the project.

“Like crosses?” she says.

“That would be Easter cookies,” says Mary.

“Crosses are fine,” I tell them.

“And we could make little mangers,” says Sarah. “And the animals that were in the stable.”

“Why don’t we make all the nativity things?” says Mary triumphantly.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” I tell them. “And while you do that, I have some things to take care of. Mary, you’re in charge of the oven. Make sure you’re careful.”

“I
know
how to use an oven, Mom.”

So I leave them to their own devices and go into the living room, where I remove the strings of lights from the Christmas tree, then I drag the tree out the front door and dump it next to the driveway. I go back into the house and retrieve the girls’ mattresses from their
beds and haul them back into the living room. None of us has had a good night’s sleep since Rick moved them back into their bedroom. And although I’ve been sleeping on the floor between them and we’ve been binding and casting out demons together, I feel certain that Sarah’s earlier vision of that pink demon was not only accurate but that this demon might actually be the worst of the bunch. Because while lying on the carpet last night, praying against a particularly bad demonic assault that seemed to be rooted in that bedroom, I suddenly recalled how Rick and I were able to purchase that carpet about ten years ago. It is one of those memories I’d rather forget, but it hit me full force, and suddenly it all made sense.

Matthew was in grade school and Mary and Sarah were both pretty small when my sister met Jeff and decided to remarry. I must not have been a very strong Christian at the time, and Pastor Glenn hadn’t come to Valley Bridge Fellowship yet. I guess I was what I would now call a
carnal
Christian—very worldly and spiritually immature. I was pleasantly surprised when Lynette invited Rick and me to accompany Jeff and her to Reno for a quick wedding and a long weekend, and I was even more surprised when my mother actually offered to watch the kids while we were gone. It shames me now to remember how excited I was about that weekend. Rick and I hadn’t had many times like that, and I even went out and bought a new outfit for the occasion. We drove down there with Jeff and Lynette, and we pretty much acted like wild teenagers, drinking and partying and gambling. At the time I felt a little guilty for acting so crazy, but I just rationalized the whole thing, telling myself that I didn’t want to spoil things for the others, that I didn’t want to be a party pooper.

Then on our last day there, Rick and I realized we were nearly
out of money. Consequently things were getting a little sour, and that night Rick and I got into a big fight. He wanted to go down and gamble what little money we had left, and I insisted that he give it to me to ensure we’d have enough money to get back home. But he wouldn’t listen. Instead he went down to gamble. Naturally, I refused to join him and went to bed mad, thinking the very worst of him. But when he showed up in our room around two in the morning and dumped a bunch of money onto the bed, he became my biggest hero. We gave Lynette and Jeff a wedding present of two hundred dollars and treated everyone to a fancy lunch. Then on the way home, I talked Rick into letting me use most of the remainder of that money to fix up the girls’ room, including this carpeting that we normally would not have been able to afford.

Of course, the pink carpeting must go. And until it’s gone, I will not subject my girls to whatever Reno demons are lurking there. It occurred to me last night, lying sleeplessly on that corrupt carpet, that the name of the pink demon is Lust. He may think he’s pretty in pink, but he is lewd and disgusting and evil.

I stand in the living room and look out at the fallen Christmas tree by the driveway. Rick will come home and see it and simply bring it back into the house. So I go out to the garage, find his ax, and begin chopping up the tree, removing limbs and annihilating it until it no longer resembles a Christmas tree.

“Mommy!” screams Sarah.

I stop in midswing and look over to where Sarah is waving at me from the garage. “What?”

“Mary burned herself!”

I drop the ax and dash through the garage, imagining Mary with flames all around, burned and mutilated. Oh, why did I let them do
this without supervision? What kind of mother am I? “Mary,” I cry as I run to the kitchen.

Mary’s at the sink, her whole arm under the faucet. “I told Sarah that I’m okay,” she says sheepishly. “It just hurt.”

“Let me see,” I demand. She holds up her arm, showing a long red welt just above her wrist. “Put it back in the water. I’ll get some ice. How did it happen?”