detail what this “man” looked like, where he was standing in
relation to my son’s bed, how paralyzing it felt when he sensed
this presence in the room, as if a heavy blanket had fallen on
him, suffocating him.
That did it. I started to pray over him even more specifically,
to pray over their room while the boys were away, to command
this spirit of fear to leave my son alone in the name of Jesus.
One day in particular when this issue seemed to be reaching a
climax of intensity, I stormed into that bedroom like a rocket. I
paced the floor, I quoted Scripture, I posted passages on the
wall, I laid hands on the doorposts and window ledges.
And I’m not joking here, that was the last day my boy ever
mentioned that man. As far as I know, he’s never been
bothered by it since to that degree or in that precise way.
Let the enemy run roughshod over my kids? No way. And I
have a strong feeling you won’t allow him to do it to yours
either.
An enemy is after your children, I’m telling you. Believe it.
Know it. But most important, deal with it—by tunneling deep