Divine Plagiarism

For some of us, the awareness of the spiritual runs close to the surface. You can just feel when something is spiritually charged. I don’t totally know how to explain it. You just know. Sometimes, I see my prayers. Here is one of those times.

‘In the Name of Jesus Christ, you will not touch her.’

Sword drawn, I point it in a circle at the forces surrounding her. Their pale, yellow eyes smolder with hatred. I am not next to her. I have no place there now. I pray for Someone better to fill that place. Still, I interpose myself between that legion and her. I can feel how much they hate her, and how much they hate me. I am a most unwelcome interloper, standing between these powers and their prey.

Glaring at me with pupils wide, a seething, oily voice drips words from a vast shadow.

‘Why are you even here? This will only end in pain for you. There is no hope, no room in this story for your dreams. You are a fool to keep fighting. She hates you.’

‘I am here because I love Him, and because He loves her, and because I hate you. That is enough for me. In His Most Holy Name, you will not touch her.’

The sword point does not waver. My eyes are unblinking. I am still here.