It started this time with the kitchen sink.
For the last three weeks, it has not been draining well – for me. When my husband uses it, it works fine. This was my first tip-off. And when it completely stopped one evening after I washed dishes, I knew it was serious. Just that afternoon, Will had done a sinkful of dishes, and the water had formed a whirlpool going down.
We had each put down powdered lye, as the usual plumbing issues involved grease. The sink had had at least one dose a week for the last two weeks, but it had prevailed nothing. Normally, we see results within minutes.
What sort of blockage could it be?
I got a plunger and went at the drain for several minutes that evening it stopped. The water turned gray, then black with dislodged crud, but never offered to move out.
It was late by this time, and I went to bed, leaving the sink a mess. By the next morning, the water had seeped out, leaving a sludge which coated both sinks. I wiped this out with paper towels, then tested the drain. As soon as I turned on the tap, there was standing water.
For financial reasons, we were determined to get the problem fixed quickly. That afternoon, Will took the trap off and tried to run a snake through. He went through much grease, then met with a corner – and could not convince the cable to continue.
We put a bucket under the drain, and I proceeded with the household as normal.
In fact, I proceeded to wash the smoke-dimmed wall back of the cookstove, and did a large load of dishes.
About the time I began scrubbing the wall in earnest, a loud voice spoke into my mind.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” it asked.
“You bet I am. I told you you’re not going to disrupt my life, nor run my household.”
“Do you want to fight?” it asked.
I considered a moment, then said, “You know what? If you’re determined to fight, let’s go ahead. I’ll take it to the end with you.”
As you can see, I know the antagonist well. Or, well enough.
I’ll call him Jackal. It suits him. I think he might even be pleased…but even if it makes him furious, “Jackal” is how you’ll get to know him here.
I met him properly seven or eight months ago, though I’d run into him before that. He claims to be a friend of Jem’s. He’s not.
Our first real confrontation occured while I was blogging one evening.
But before I tell you what happened, let me say that Jackal runs with demons. Not the friendly, irritating, shadowy kind that peek at you from corners, but the big, nasty, belligerant kind that don’t mind standing at your shoulder shouting obsenities. For a long while, Jackal thought he was in charge of them…that he was master, and they, servants.
Then came our conversation while I was using the computer. I was listening to a song he seemed fond of. Suddenly, the computer stalled, then the mouse pointer began running about the screen by itself, and I found it increasingly difficult to change pages, or even type – the letters were reluctant to appear on the screen, as if I had a bad connection with my wireless keyboard. Occassionally, a few of them scrambled after I had typed them, or chose different lines to appear on.
At last, I told Jackal, “You’re going to have to keep your spirits under control while I’m talking with you.”
I knew, though he did not, that this was an almost impossible thing to ask of him, but cockily, he proceeded to call them down.
They ignored him, and in fact, intensified their nonsense by shutting out windows at random.
Looking stricken, Jackal mumbled, “I – I can’t.”
I sighed. “Then I’ll do it. In the Name of Jesus Christ, I command all of you to stop touching my computer, and other equipment, to keep out of my house, and to be silent while I am dealing with Jackal. Say nothing, and keep your hands in your lap.”
The atmosphere of the room calmed, and the computer cooperated the rest of the evening.
Jackal gave me a deeply questioning look. Stupified, really. “It’s my stuff,” I explained. “They need my permission, or at least a good reason, to touch it now. Besides, I have a power you don’t, and which is greater than anything you and your kind can dream up.”
For a moment, I felt sorry for Jackal. For the first time, apparently, the realization bit deep that he was master of nothing – not even of his own life.
I knew why God had allowed him to bother me, and why we had met in the first place. I was to attempt to show him the light of Christ, same as I had done Jem. Jackal was undoubtedly a much tougher nut to crack. I wasn’t sure the same tactics would prevail, or if anything would.
But that wasn’t my responsibility. God had given Jackal to me as a new spiritual client, and I was determined to do my part; God could do His.
Still, here he was, wreaking havoc in my kitchen.
To be continued…
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