The Other Side of Darkness (21 page)

“This is a store,” Mary says when I park the car out front.

“It’s where our church will be meeting for the time being.” I notice there are a couple dozen cars out front, which seems a good sign.

Then, just before we go inside, I tell them that Pastor Glenn is the leader here, but we call him Brother Glenn now. Mary lets out a big groan, and Sarah lets go of my hand.

“Remember your promise,” I hiss at them. Someone is holding the door open for us. “I expect you girls to behave like ladies.” I take Sarah’s hand again. I sound just like my mom now, and that only makes me more irritated at myself. Why does this have to be so difficult? Why does the Lord allow us to live in a world with so much adversity?

Cynthia warmly greets us once we’re inside. Mary is acting like a preadolescent, but Sarah actually responds to the greeting, and I feel a smidgen of hope. Brother Glenn and another man I’ve never seen before are up front playing music. Just a nice kind of background music, friendly and inviting. Glenn, as usual, is on the guitar, and the other man is playing the fiddle, but there’s also an electronic keyboard off to one side, which seems promising.

“Are these your lovely daughters?” Sister Bronte asks as we go to find our seats.

I pause to introduce the girls, and I can’t help but notice that Mary seems to be paying close attention to Bronte. I think she’s rather impressed by this woman’s extraordinary good looks.

“Well, I’m so pleased to meet you.” Sister Bronte shakes both their hands. “I think our little church is off to a wonderful start, and I’m so glad you girls could join us. Are either of you very musical?”

They both shrug in a self-conscious way. “Mary has a lovely singing voice,” I say, “and Sarah knows how to play the recorder.”

“Just a little,” Sarah admits. “We just started learning.”

“I want to learn to play the piano,” says Mary.

“Well, it must be the Lord,” Bronte says with a wide open
smile. “I just happen to play the piano, and I sometimes give lessons.”

“Really?” Mary looks slightly dazzled.

“Yes, really. Let’s talk later.”

As the girls and I find seats in the second row, I try to estimate how many people are here. It seems like more than on Sunday, and I feel somewhat amazed. How are people learning about this place so quickly?

“Is Sister Bronte someone famous?” Mary whispers to me.

“I don’t know for sure. But she is well known by the Lord.”

Mary nods, as if taking all this in. Meanwhile, Sarah’s toes are keeping time to the music, and I’m thinking perhaps this will be easier than I expected.

Sister Bronte turns out to be the keyboardist and very talented. She also has a beautiful singing voice, and the music portion of our worship service goes for about thirty minutes. Not only is it well done, but it’s incredibly moving too. Even my girls are touched by the Spirit as we stand and lift our hands and sing.

But the worship seems to end a bit abruptly, or maybe it’s just me, but following a very emotional song, the room becomes quiet. Then the lights go down, and there’s one spotlight shining toward the front. Sister Bronte stands and delivers a word from the Lord that is both exhilarating and slightly frightening.

“ ‘Take up your sword,’ says the Lord!” she says in a passionate voice with hands held high. “ ‘Prepare for bloodshed and the breaking of bones! But remember, my children, you are not fighting against earthly flesh and blood. Your war is not against earthly bones. You are fighting against powers and principalities of the underworld!’ ”

She pauses, and there is a clash of cymbals and some evil-sounding
background music. I’m not sure who’s handling the sound system just now, but I must admit it is effective, and both Sarah and Mary take my hands. I give them a reassuring squeeze, then Sister Bronte continues.

“ ‘You are waging war against satanic power,’ says the Lord, ‘fighting against the devil’s darkness and against all his legions of demonic forces. But beware, my children, for your enemy will disguise himself as an earthly being. These foul followers of Satan will masquerade themselves, pretending to become the familiar, but know that they are full of evil. Donning sheep’s clothing, these ravenous wolves will claw their way into your hearts and into your lives, hoping to earn your trust in order to destroy you. The time is coming,’ says the Lord, ‘when my children will not only feel their spiritual attackers in the unseen world, but the time is coming when you will see these impostors with your own eyes, and you will hear their screams and lies and their vicious cries with your own ears. For Satan’s fury is going to be unleashed sevenfold.’ ” She stops again for more sound effects and then a long, quiet pause. “But know this, my children: not all will hear and see the Enemy. For only those who are chosen by the Lord, only those who are fully surrendered to his power, only those who are truly filled with his Holy Spirit—they alone will be allowed to see such things.”

“I see one now, sister,” calls a voice from the back. Everyone in the congregation turns to see Brother Carl pointing toward a door off to the right. I think it leads to the storeroom, where Kellie has begun setting up the church office. The lights come up a little, not too bright, but just enough that we can see a bit more clearly.

“I see it too.” Cynthia points in the same direction. I peer at the door, and while I do see some shadows, I’m not sure I actually see anything real. Although the harder I look, the more I think I can perhaps discern a shape that resembles something weird and evil.

Brother Glenn is going toward this apparition now, holding both hands out as he goes. “In the name of Jesus, we cast you out!” He is yelling, and several others join him. They call out and pray, and after a minute or two, it seems this thing—this shadow of darkness—has gone. The lights brighten a bit, and the room is very quiet.

“The Lord has shown me,” says Cynthia in a strong voice, “that this building needs cleansing.”

“Amen, sister,” someone else calls out.

“My spirit agrees,” says Brother Glenn. “We need to begin our warfare right here, right in this very building.”

“Who is ready to go to battle?” asks Bronte from where she is still standing in the front. “If you are ready to go to war against the Lord’s enemy, stand. Stand now and join together.”

Everyone in the room stands. My heart is pounding, and I’m still holding both girls’ hands in mine. I glance down at their faces, worried that they may be even more frightened than I am. And while they do look somewhat scared, I can also detect another emotion. Maybe it’s simply childish excitement, or maybe it’s the Holy Spirit at work in their hearts, but they seem to be with us on this.

I smile at them. “Praise the Lord.” They echo my words. And soon we are joining in with all the other members of the congregation, working our way around the building as we pray against the evil inhabitants. We pray for the walls and posts and doors and windows and floors. We pray for the podium and the chairs and even the musical instruments. We continue like this for about an hour until finally it seems we are all prayed out.

Bronte is back at the front again. And once again she raises her hands and closes her eyes. “ ‘You have done well,’ says the Lord, ‘exceedingly well. You are my army, my chosen ones. You are showing
yourselves to be powerful warriors against my enemy. I will pour my Spirit out among you. I will cause you to have visions and to dream dreams. Your eyes will be opened, and your ears will hear. My Spirit and my blessing are upon you.’ ”

This is followed by a few more songs, and then we are excused. Seeing that it’s after nine and pretty late for a school night, I say some hasty good-byes and then usher the girls toward the door. I’m curious to hear their reactions to tonight’s service. There were times when it seemed they were almost enjoying themselves, and yet I know it was a strange experience for them. To be honest, I found it strange myself. And yet it seemed the Lord was in our midst. It seemed, once again, that the Spirit was moving.

I
wait until we’re in the car to ask the girls what they thought about tonight’s service. “Despite my no-complaining rule, you can be free to express how you felt about church.”

I take a moment to reorient myself to this new car, slipping my key into the ignition. I start the car and look every way before I slowly back out. “Just for the record, you were both very good tonight. I was proud to have you with me. So, tell me, what did you think?”

“Well, at first I wasn’t so sure,” begins Mary. “But I really liked the music. I didn’t know Pastor Glenn played the guitar.”

“Brother Glenn,” I correct her, explaining why we don’t call him “pastor” anymore.

“He does seem different,” admits Mary. This fills me with relief.

“And Sister Bronte is a really good singer,” says Sarah. “Did she used to be in a band or something?”

I kind of laugh as I pull onto the street, again looking both ways, being very careful as I slowly move along, thankful there isn’t much traffic at this hour. “I don’t know for sure, honey.”

The car is quiet for a while, and I wonder if they’re as nervous as I am about my driving ability, or rather lack of. “I really want to know what you think of the church,” I say as I pick up speed, almost going the limit now.

“I got a little scared when Sister Bronte started saying all that stuff
about the devil and the demons and how we were supposed to be able to see them,” says Mary.

“Me too,” says Sarah.

“But then I just listened, and I thought she kind of made sense.”

“And I saw that demon, Mommy,” says Sarah suddenly.

“You did?” Now this surprises me.

“Yes! Just like Sister Bronte said, he had big horns and sharp teeth and claws and stuff—kind of like in my dreams. I was really scared. But then we prayed, and he went away.” She laughs. “That’s because we do have more power, don’t we, Mommy?”

“That’s right, Sarah. We do. But we have to use that power.”

“Do you really think there are demons all around us?” Mary asks as I drive through town. “Like on the street and everywhere?”

“I think so. It’s just that we don’t see them. Well, not normally anyway.”

“Do you think Sister Bronte was right, then?” continues Mary. “That if we are really filled with the Holy Spirit, we will see them for real?”

“I, uh, I guess so.”

“I don’t know if I want to see them,” Sarah says in a small voice. “I mean, not all the time. They kind of scare me.”

“I know. They kind of scare me too. But we just need to remember that we have the Lord in us and that he has more power than Satan.”

Finally we’re home, and I’m relieved to get into the house, where we can turn on lights and focus on more normal things, like taking care of the kitty and the mess on the laundry-room floor. But Mary cleans it up, and Sarah tucks the little black cat back into the doll bed she has donated for the night. Then I tell the girls to get ready for
their own beds. And after prayers are said, after I bind all the evil spirits from invading my girls’ dreams, and after I tuck them in and kiss them good night, I walk around the house and consider what Bronte said at church tonight.

Her warning that demons are all around us and that we can see them for ourselves if we’re truly filled with the Holy Spirit makes me wonder. What if I’m not truly filled? Then isn’t it possible that the demons are right here? Right in my house? Possibly within arm’s reach? I feel a shiver down my spine as I look around the living room. Only one small table lamp is on. Normally I leave this room dark in the evening since no one usually comes in here. But in my effort to brighten our home after tonight’s slightly unsettling service, I turned it on. Yet as I’m standing near the door, just ready to leave, I notice my photo montage on the wall to my left, and I stare at the gaping hole where I removed the photo of my great-grandfather, the one Cynthia felt had an evil spirit. As I look at the familiar photographs, I begin to sense that they too have spirits attached to them, spirits I was previously unable to discern. Perhaps I wasn’t as surrendered to the Lord then. Perhaps I was just spiritually dense. But it seems very clear to me now. There is only one thing to do.

One by one I remove these photos from my wall. Then balancing the stack in my arms and wishing I’d thought ahead to get a box since I don’t like feeling them so close to me, I carry them out to the garage and set them in a dark corner by the back door. I stand and look at them for a couple of minutes, unsure as to whether I’ve made the right move or not.

I have mixed feelings, partly because I worked so hard matting and framing them and arranging them on the wall but also because I was so spiritually blind before. Why didn’t I see what I was bringing
into our home? The sins of the past generations in plain black and white, and sepia tones too. And here I was hanging them right on the living-room wall because I thought they looked attractive. And I took pride in my work. I took pride in hanging demons on our wall where they could influence all the members of my family!

The more I consider my spiritual stupidity, the more convinced I become that not long after hanging those photos, our family’s spiritual problems got noticeably worse. Rick started working nights (for the money, he said), and as a result he began attending church less and less. And then instead of going to college as planned, Matthew took a job at a bookstore that, along with other things, sells books about witchcraft and Eastern religions and all sorts of evil philosophies. And not long after that, he began to rebel against the church as well as our family’s values by starting to drink.

“O Lord,” I say, still standing in the chilly garage. “This is my fault. I have brought these evil spirits into our home. Please forgive me and show me how to cleanse us from these demons, how to deliver us from this evil influence.”

Just then I hear a scratching noise and know without the slightest doubt it is a demon. I can actually feel its icy breath down my neck, and I have a feeling that if I looked hard enough, I could see it. But instead of standing my ground, instead of waging spiritual warfare, I run into the house, and after locking the door behind me, I lean my back against it as my heart pounds like a jackhammer.