Daughters of Promise March/April 2015 | страница 9

renounce your faith! Today you will beg for mercy!”
As the soldiers dragged him out of prison and took
him away, the young father wondered. What do they
mean? Why is today any different?
But when they marched him to the edge of a quarry
and he looked down to see his wife and children in
a little huddle at the bottom, they didn’t have to tell
him why today was different. He knew. They didn’t
even have to point out the pile of huge rocks sitting
on the edge of that deep pit, nor the soldiers standing
by to push them over the edge and crush his precious
family below. He knew. In that moment, this strong,
courageous young father, who had not wavered in
all the previous torture, began to waver. Down at the
bottom of that gravel pit were the ones dearest to his
heart. Surely God would understand if he wanted to
save his family!
Then, like sweet notes of music, up from the bottom
of the pit came the beautiful words of his wife. Words
that rang with truth and courage! Words that inspired
a weary heart! Words that made a soldier in God’s
army straighten his shoulders and stand his ground
to the very end. These are the words that she spoke,
words that will ring throughout eternity! “Oh my
husband, whatever you do, don’t give up! Don’t
give in! Because tonight,” she said, “oh tonight, my
husband, we will eat supper with the KING!”
I still weep when I tell that story. It touches something
deep inside me that is hard for me to explain, but I
know it has to do with destiny. That is the image in
which you and I, as women, were created! In a
moment of crisis, pain, or even death, we somehow
do have what it takes to seize a piece of heaven and
bring LIFE into our little world.
I believe with all my heart that one of the deadliest
enemies of that destiny of greatness is the matriarchal
spirit. That spirit, sometimes referred to as a Jezebel
spirit, is first of all a spirit of rebellion, which uses
manipulation and control to gain power by whatever
means possible. Our society has painted this spirit
white and made it so common that it has become
difficult for us to recognize. Nevertheless, it has caused
great havoc in our homes and in our lives. I have seen
it in my own life and in the lives of countless others. Let
me share with you how it wormed its way into my life
and how much damage it caused.
I was adopted into a wonderful Christian home when
I was six weeks old. I grew up smothered with love
from my four siblings and my parents. My earliest
memories involve the love of my family and the small
community that I grew up in, as well as the love I felt
for my dad. We called him “Pop” and I was his little
girl. It never seemed strange to me that even though
it was my mom who spent hours reading me stories,
my mom who stopped her work and played dolls with
me, my mom who let me run off to play or help on
the farm while she did my work, that it was my father
whom I really loved.

Now don’t get me wrong. Of course I loved my mom,
and I knew that she loved me. But I was definitely
Pop’s girl, and I basked in the sunshine of his love and
attention. His love filled many of the corners of my little
girl heart, and I bl