Time and commissions softened the agents’ attitudes towards me. They turned cordial. Even the Lene girls treated me extra nice. The three continued calling me Junior, but their words contained a ring of admiration when they did it. The spring months passed and the real estate market heated up during the first two weeks of June. Everyone at the real estate office was busy making money.
Then, the angel stopped by my house.
The sun had set, the evening shadows merged into deep darkness. Albert lay on the red tile floor by the refrigerator, his tail wagging back and forth in time to a doggy dream. I stood at the stainless steel sink, washing dishes, and putting them away in the white cabinets when I heard a noise behind me.
“Oh mighty man of valor, how are you?” he said.
I gasped and almost fumbled a serving bowl.
“Fear not,” he said, holding his hand up.
The white-robed angel stood next to the oven, his chestnut hair a mere six inches from the ceiling. He held a gold handled sword in his left hand, with the point aimed downward. His words calmed my fears, even though there was a combat-readiness about him.
He extended his right hand to me.
“Are you ready to go?”
I knew a rhetorical question when I heard one so I offered him my left hand.
Up through the roof, we took a sharp right toward City Hall. The wind whistled through my white tee-shirt and jeans. My feet were bare. I recognized the streets as we passed over them. California Street. Pine Street. Geary Street. Golden State Avenue. Grove Street. At City Hall, he put on the brakes so we hovered a hundred feet above the dome’s pinnacle.
“Tonight, your spiritual eyes will be opened up another notch, to three notches.”
I did not speak.
There was no expression on his face, but I thought I saw a smile in his eyes for a split second.
“So, you remember the rules, huh?” He pointed up. “Look,” he said.
I followed his finger and saw the spirit of depravity sitting on a brass throne blocking a light portal. Once again, the ruling principality continually alternated its appearance between that of a beautiful white angel and that of a monster gargoyle. First one and then the other. The spirit never rested. The hologram ticker-tapes carrying lies spewed out of its mouth toward the earth below, but this time, I observed something else.
Have you ever seen World War II films showing German bombers flying over London and anti-aircraft guns firing up in the air at them? Every fourth or fifth bullet was a phosphorous tracer shell so the artillerymen could track their firing and adjust their aims. The skies lit up with these phosphorous bullets of light heading toward targets overhead.
This was what it reminded me of when I looked up, because thousands of bullets of light ripped through the heavens toward the spirit of depravity. The bullets came out of San Francisco, from other American cities, from foreign lands, and especially out of China and Korea. None seemed off-target. They converged at a specific point on a force field of some kind which shielded the principality. The force field appeared to have a spiritual life to it.
I noticed a weakening in the force field. A small crack appeared. The look on the principality’s face revealed the alarm and terror it felt from the damage inflicted on its protective shield. The spirit reacted by accelerating its ticker-tape barrage upon the earth below.
“This spiritual warfare is being waged by chosen intercessors against the spirit of depravity. Many of the prayer warriors are former gays, lesbians, sexual perverts, women who had abortions, people involved in the abortion industry, and even babies who have survived abortion attempts on them. They have been washed in the Lamb’s blood and delivered from their pasts. Now, they are used, along with others, by the Lord God of Hosts as His air force against Satan’s forces.”
Air force? I thought. The Lord has an air force. Does He have marines? Or a navy, too?
(An excerpt from Jonah by Larry Nevenhoven, ©2012, Amazon eBook)
(Continued in Part 2)
6 responses to “Spiritual Warfare in San Francisco (Part 1)”
So well writte, Mr. Larry. Thanks for sharing this section with us. God bless you!
Thanks. Your poetry is great as usual. God bless you.
I suspect that the marines are in training now. They are the manifest sons of Yehovah. They do not flinch in battle. They obey instantly any order no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.
They only follow orders that come from the Captain of Yehovah’s hosts, Yeshua. They are His elite forces and nothing can stop them.
They will take back all that the enemy has arrogantly stolen. They shall arise very soon and when they do, The Kingdom of Yehovah will begin to come into the earth.
Some of us are hoping to be the advisors and encouragers of these, mostly, young people. My hope is that I will be allowed to participate in the event of eternity in whatever my Captain determines is the place I belong.
Amen. Me, too.
Great read! Was this an actual vision or fiction?
Fiction. But I believe it is based on scripture…at least from my viewpoint and extrapolation of many verses. God bless you.