As I (Abbey) was driving home today, I turned on my radio, and while flipping through channels landed on NPR. Often, when I’m driving, I check out and flip through stations looking for something to either soothe or entertain me. Sometimes I have the energy to engage in talk radio. Today on NPR, the story was being told of Afghan women who work in the police force. United forces have been supporting the idea and reemergence of women into the modern workforce, in hopes that they would regain rights and privileges that were stolen.
Unfortunately, as I sat and listened, I began tumbling downward in shock and disgust. Numerous women working for the police, who refused to be named, admitted that they were coerced into prostitution and rape by fellow male coworkers and superiors. These women refuse to speak out because they know that if their male counterparts were prosecuted for rape, then they too would be imprisoned because the law considers them promiscuous. Women who refuse to prostitute themselves are forced to find other women to hand over to the men in the police force. The women stated in the interviews, that were conducted in secret moving vehicles, that they’d never support their daughters looking for a job in the police force, a job that pays better than most positions open to women. One woman stated that her children had been present when her coworkers forced themselves into her home and raped her throughout the night.
“Oh Jesus. It feels just too big.” Once again I felt so overwhelmed by the state of our world, the demonic ravaging children and women in sex trafficking. How evil seems to be gaining the ground in a particular hatred and ravaging of women. And how I am once again left feeling hopeless. I don’t have the money to send, or even the knowledge of who to send it to. I can’t go to Afghanistan and personally rescue these women….or can I?
Suddenly I found myself praying in my prayer language. Utterances unlike the usual phrases and wording I use. And I found myself, through my imagination, in the spirit. I was amongst Afghan women, dressed in burqas, in a grimy police station. And I felt the demonic grip, could see the forces set out by the hater of women to strip them of their femininity and glory. And I released what I like to refer to as the “Abbey ninja,” taking my right as a daughter of the king and the power of my beloved Jesus to ring their necks. Using my spirit to clear the station of the spirits of hatred and sexual immorality.
While my intercession tends to look quite untraditional, I know that mysteries that are released while I am in the spirit are making movement. I don’t know what will shift in the natural in the Mazar-e-Sharif, but I know that I no longer am left feeling helpless. That I can make a difference, even if I would perhaps be labeled as foolish by the world, and many Christians I know.
What would it look like for you to turn from helplessness and resignation when your heart is burning for justice, and choose the mystery of working with your spirit? Do you believe that you can change a human’s experience by releasing Holy Spirit into their atmosphere? By traveling to unknown destinations and fighting by releasing your inheritance as a son or daughter to overcome the world?
I’m convinced that it’s doing more than either sending 5$ or driving home in despair.
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