Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: A MIGHTY FORTRESS (don't write about the song) (04/23/15)
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TITLE: Climbing The Stronghold | Previous Challenge Entry
By alan kane
04/30/15 -
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My instructions from the manager were a bit strange. I was to catch the 35 bus as far as the old derelict school, then walk through what could only be described as an overgrown path, used as the local dumping ground.
The area stank from rotting food, urine, stale alcohol and was littered with used condoms. By now, I was really glad to have a faith in God.
Onwards the path went, slowly climbing a hill, the area getting ever more run down. I have lived in this city for years, but never knew the buildings standing before me even existed. I approached the decaying buildings and saw wraith-like people, who watched my progress through empty eyes.
Despite being creeped out, I carried on.
A little bit further up the hill, people stopped watching my progress and instead followed from a distance. I tried to talk to some but they said absolutely nothing, just followed at a distance. I went back to praying, not just for my own safety, but for these people I was passing.
I knew that Jesus found me when I was lost, I knew he could help these people.
As I turned a corner, I was surprised to find women scantily clothed in, well, really next to nothing. They were the first ones to speak, and what they suggested would have made a hardened bouncer blush. As a young single man, who hadnt had a girlfriend in six months, I found myself both excited and repulsed at the same time. Looking straight ahead, I kept my eyes down and walked onwards. I turned shades of red when one of them slapped my bottom.
A group of lads, about my age, started throwing insults. A few opened up old wounds. How did they know my mother was murdered six years ago? Why, God, did I have to come here?
These lads still followed, hurling insults like grenades. I knew with certainty that some wanted to cause me severe harm. As one came right up to me and spat in my face, I detected sulphur's distinctive stench.
Twenty-two years old: I feared that day would be my last.
A bottle missed my head and exploded in shards of glass.
"ENOUGH! In Jesus name, I say stop!"
All went quiet. Even the wind stopped; all waited to see what would happen.
"I come here by invitation."
A tall, muscular, older man approached and in a slow menacing voice declared to all, "no one invited this child here."
I felt rebuked but carried on. "I am a man of God," Some of the onlookers shuffled backwards. "The mission invited me."
The older man laughed, "That mission stopped functioning years ago when I arrived. Even the caretaker hides; too scared to come out."
With a power I knew was not mine, I declared, "You prince of despair, I command you to cease. You have held this place in a deathly grip for too many years. I am called by Almighty God, who bought me with the blood of Jesus Christ, to this place. I now know why I came here. I am a child of the Living God. I will replant this mission. I will walk these streets, proclaiming the Good News of Jesus."
The old man looked scared and started to formulate some rebuttal. I pierced him with my stare and just demanded, "Go! Now!" At that, he just vanished.
As I continued to walk up the hill to the mission, I thought upon Ephesians 6:12: For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.
As I arrived at the mission, the caretaker opened the door and welcomed me. As I asked for the manager he stated that he was not the manager, but that God had told him that I would be running the mission.
It suddenly dawned on me that my interview was by Godly appointment. I had to face down the evil in this place.
How I got my letter, I will probably never know.
That day, I started to build a strong fortress for a new fight against this stronghold of the enemy.
Authors note
Bible reference from KJV.
This is fiction.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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God bless~