Last week I endured a most agonizing 30 minutes and less than 24 hours later, I enjoyed several hours of incredible sweetness and great power.
At midnight I called my mother. I had an exact purpose and plan for the conversation but settled on exchanging pleasantries and catch-ups for a while. Eventually I came to the ‘reveal’ portion of the call.
“Mama, I stood at the kitchen counter for 20 minutes, with dishes ready to be washed, with a knife in my hand. I wanted to cut, not because of a particular feeling but because I saw myself cutting. I could see it!”
*Graphic details omitted*
I had not cut in 7 years and I cried as I recounted the earlier events to my mother.
“I gave in several days ago and cut but just a little. You can’t even see it anymore. But I fought tonight. I cried – hard, ugly tears- and I called out, “Jesus, Jesus!” over and over. It’s all I could say. Jesus would only tell me, “Wait … wait.”
I could hardly speak, saying these words to my mother. Even while talking, I kept imagining if my son were being tormented in this way, how would I feel? What could I do?
She said, “I think I need to come see you tomorrow.”
The next afternoon, Mama (in Southern-speak) came over and we shared small talk until my husband and son left for their Friday night on the town; their man-time, better known as Funk-A-Delic Friday.
Mama broke the ice. “I’m here because God sent me. I’m supposed to pray for you.”
I tried to act all nonchalant, like I’m used to this sort of thing and it’s no big deal but … Wow! I mean, I’m used to being the pray-er and not the pray-ee. I’m usually the one who is sent, not the receiver. At the same time, I can’t express the gratefulness welling up inside my mind and heart! My God had seen me and He had heard me, yet again.
I position myself in the heirloom bent-wood rocking chair, in which my mother had rocked me as a newborn and I had rocked my own son. I had no idea what was about to transpire or what would come afterward.
Mama knelt in front of me, her hands on my arms, and began praying. She prayed protection first and moved seamlessly into blessing. She placed her hands on my head and moved easily to my feet as she prayed. I fell into her rhythmic voice and almost forgot the purpose of her presence. Her hands found mine effortlessly as she spoke words from our Lord; words of Truth and of power. As Mama spoke, I also heard Holy Spirit speaking, sometimes adding revelation and sometimes echoing her words as His own. And then we said, “Amen,” and then we cried. Afterwards we talked about awakening prophetic spirits, words from God and revelations as we continued to be tearfully and joyfully overwhelmed by His presence.
If Father had sent anyone else to me, it would not have meant as much, would not have had the same impact. He knew, in His perfect wisdom, I needed a mother’s touch and my mother’s heart. Have I mentioned lately how good is my God?
A few things stood out to me during Mama’s prayer over me. 1) As her delicate hands moved down my arms and she said, “Bless these arms…”, I heard, “And the hands that feed them.” 2) As she spoke, “Blood of my blood, bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh…” and 3) When she said, “Jesus shed His blood and no more blood must be shed… these hands will do no more harm…”
First, number 1 – “And the hands that feed them.” Upon questioning the Lord, He said my hands heal and they write. It was the writing He referenced here. Father said my writing has healed, is healing, and will heal. And He blessed my hands to do no more harm but to feed His people with His words.
Second, number 2 – “Blood of my blood…” These words echoed in my mind, at first because my mother spoke them. I am blood of her blood, bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh. I sank into this for a moment and didn’t hear anything for several minutes after. As she spoke these words, reality washed over me. My mother, who labored and gave birth to me, was kneeling before me and seeking God for me, speaking His word and His heart. A mother’s work is NEVER done… A split second after she spoke, I heard Jesus echo these same words, “Blood of My blood, bone of My bone, flesh of My flesh…” I was completely undone! And He wasn’t yet finished.
Third, number 3 – “Jesus blood was shed…” The following is perhaps the most important revelation of that night, at least for those battling self harm. Jesus shed His blood 2000 years ago, once and for all time. (Hebrews 10:12) He said the self harm I had been taking part in, the cutting, was actually a pagan ritual. Bare with me here. I had been cutting, had been inflicting pain on myself and had been shedding my own blood, trying to cover and abate the sins of others against me … and my own sin. In the Old Testament, the ritual sacrifice was necessary to cover all sin but Jesus fulfilled that need, once and for all time. However, Satan had conned me into believing, through ‘seeing and feeling’, that self harm was satisfying, completely negating the sacrifice of Jesus. What a ruse! I had no idea! I cried tears of sorrow and relief at the same time.
Back to the previous evening, when I had called my mother. Even before that, when I was crying out, “Jesus, Jesus!” and He kept telling me, “Wait… wait.” At first I thought Jesus was being aloof and maybe even that He didn’t care what I was going through at the moment or He was waitimg on me to toughen up. But the next night, after Mama prayed, after we had ‘Amen-ed’ and cried, Jesus reminded me that He had given me the death-defying blow the night before.
He reminded me of these words I had spoken through blubbering tears – “Devil, you will not, will not win tonight! You will not have me tonight!” Jesus had given these words to war against the enemy. So simple yet so effective.
James 4:7 Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.
He fled then. Quickly.
This night with my mother, through Grace, the Truth had been revealed to me; I was finally ready to hear and understand. I proclaimed boldly, “Jesus, we mark this night and I plant a flag here and receive Your victory!”
Beloved, don’t give up and don’t give in. As hard as your battle may be, as fiercely as you are fighting, Almighty God is fighting for you even harder. Please know, He will send someone to you, a representative of Heaven, who will say all the right words, pray just the right prayer, who will hug you just tight enough and will know when to let you go. He loves you so!
Jeannie B. Wilbourn