I was in such a mood yesterday. I was aggravated before I even got out of bed. It may have had something to do with being woke up at seven a.m. on a Saturday when I had every intention of catching up on the ever-elusive sleep my body craves. I laid in bed long enough to be harassed with a multitude of questions, like, “What are we going to do today?” “Can I eat ______?” “When are you going to get up?” “Can I go outside?” “Will you ___________?” On and on he chattered until I finally got up. But I wasn’t happy about it and I let both of them know. The problem was, even after I had adequately expressed myself, I couldn’t shake the attitude of hatefulness. My prayers that morning were poisoned by my anger, and even after I had exhausted myself in prayer, I was still in a major funk. As a result, I was pretty terrible to live with yesterday.
Eventually, even I was sick of hearing myself vent. I knew in my heart that my attitude was disgusting and I was sick of feeling provoked by the tiniest thing. Finally, I sat in the kitchen floor to clean up yet another mess and my daughter came in and stood very near me. I was just getting ready to tell her to take a hike when she began to sing, “I command you, Satan, in the name of the Lord, take up your weapons and flee …” As my anger began to falter and melt away, she sang it again “… for the Lord has given me authority to stomp all over thee!” Oh, from my heart I was so grateful to her! My daughter had warred on my behalf. She had taken up my war-cry in her rich alto voice and put the enemy to flight on my behalf. I had sung that song millions of times to wage war in our home. Never did I realize someone was watching me and seeing the warfare in it. Most often, I figured they thought I had completely lost it. Little did I know I was teaching my children how to recognize and fight the enemy. When she began to sing, I saw very clearly that I had passed the baton, and thank God! I am no longer the only warrior in my home. Satan, beware!