Matthew 6:22, 23 “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your vision is clear, your whole body will be full of light. 23 But if your vision is poor, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!”
It is said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. We all know this to be true if we have ever lovingly gazed into the eyes of another individual in close relationship or have dared to confront the eyes of those opposite us while in conflict. Even the act of looking directly into the eyes of others in conversation is a sign of respect or disrespect, depending on what side of the world you are from. In law enforcement officers are trained to watch body language when questioning suspects or witnesses, one of the focuses being the eyes, which have a hard time concealing their meaning. When we are stressed, over-stimulated or in a state of contemplation it is either natural or recommended for us to shut our eyes in order to bring a state of rest over our mental status and physical body. And the body, when exhausted, will naturally and almost immediately send direct messages to our brain which in turn tells our eyes to close themselves almost automatically. Ultimately, the eyes can be a direct gateway into our psyche, dreams and visions. So then why are we not more conscious of what we expose them to on a daily basis? I, myself am guilty of this very dangerous behavior.
Despite having a testimony, before Christ, of witchcraft, occultism and knowledge of the enemies methods of attack and bondage, when in sluggard-mode I can become complacent in the guarding of my eyes and the “things” that I allow into them. I fell victim to exactly this on a night after receiving some devastating news about the progressing illness of a close family member and allowing myself gratification while attending my own pity party. The attack manifested itself after this self-indulgence of the flesh, which in my case, heavily influenced by the eighties, resulted from a horror movie. Before salvation I purposefully exposed myself to many horror novels and books satiating my flesh to the sadistic sacrifices and blatant bashing of God and Christ that is oftentimes displayed in such films. (I am in no way judging or condemning anyone who watches horror films, but instead am exposing my weakness that led me to the choices that would eventually lead me into complete and utter darkness.)
As I skimmed through my cable channels looking for some sort of diversion from the overwhelming thoughts in my mind, I came across a movie that I had never seen nor had ever desired to see. The movie was the 2009 horror film Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, directed by Patrick Tatopoulos. Now some might say, why mention the name of the film, surely the experience is enough? And in some instances this may be true, but for this particular experience I believe that what happened to me was a direct result of my morbid curiosity combined with the desire to fulfill the need of my flesh to be served. I was angry and felt slighted by the circumstances of life that had overtaken someone I truly loved. And so I decided to indulge, open my eyes and watch.
In the movie it became quickly obvious to me that this was a dramatization about vampires vs. werewolves, aka Lycans. As the movie progressed it revealed that there was a war between the two “bloodlines” and that the vampires had enslaved the Lycans, hence the title of the film. During a particular scene there were some Lycans fully transformed into their horrific, monstrously wolf-like forms, chained up to the walls in some dark, gloomy dungeon awaiting their victims. Ironically, as I sat alone on my couch, pupils fixated, watching in my dismal, somber living room, besot by the image of the Lycans chained to the wall, I verbalized a spiritual prognostication,
“So that’s what they look like,” (referring to the demons that are chained away in Hell awaiting judgement, 2 Peter 2:4).
Shortly after the revelation, I could no longer watch the movie. I switched over to something less grisly, but then swiftly, suddenly and hypnotically fell into a deep sleep. I had not even realized that I was asleep when I started to dream. In the dream I saw my ill relative and my two grandchildren. My relative began to violently vomit on the floor. One of my grandchildren did not see it and stepped in it. When I grabbed them to rush to the bathtub to clean them off in water I was surprisingly transported back to the couch, only all the cushions had been removed and I was lying instead on the black material that laid at the bare bottom. Everyone kept walking by me as if I was not there. I was paralyzed and could not move or call out to them, even my vocal cords were in a state of suspension. No matter how hard I tried to move or speak nothing would happen, I was helpless. I had been here in this condition before but my numbness clouted my head. My body temperature rose and I began to panic as my senses recollected the familiar mode of fight or flight.
Without warning the fold where the backside of the couch meets the bottom opened up and I could feel my body tilt as if on a slant. The smell of ash filled my nostrils and I heard unsettling sounds of fires burning and crackling. Intently listening, the sound of disturbed, guttural snarling opened a hollow in the pit of my stomach. I felt a large, heavily clawed grip holding tightly to the back of my shirt, ripping the material on the couch as it began to drag me down into the bowels of a place I knew I did not want to go. Terrified, I remembered my paralytic state, and knew I would be swallowed into a realm that nightmares could not conjure. My blood ran cold and my heart quickened and the gust of heat that arose abruptly dried the saliva from my lips. Until. I remembered. The name. The name that is above every name. The name every knee shall bow to…those in heaven…those on the earth… and mostly, those under the earth. The name that every tongue shall confess is Lord. My mind screamed out as I barely uttered the name of Jesus.
Instantly, the demon released his hold and sunk back into the unknown depths from where he originally emerged. As my eyes illuminated I could make out my surroundings and feel movement, fueled by the rush of warm blood, returning to my stiffened muscles. I must admit I was shocked to find myself still lying on the couch heavily breathing; the still lingering sensation of the fiendish grip on the back of my shirt beginning to fade along with the dreadful sounds of the underworld.
My pupils adjusted to the light of the television screen as did the understanding of my transgression. I confessed the open gateway of my pride to the Lord, asking for forgiveness and a hedge of protection for myself, those in the house with me, my family and our home. I thanked Him for His mercy and undeserved grace. I knew that once again my Savior had delivered me from my own stubbornness and vice. He did not forsake me. Never would. Then, came the revelation of what the Father had just realigned and restored. My vision. It had been shrouded by my three-dimensional sin, manifesting my fear, unlocking a doorway that God had purposefully shut, for the enemy of my soul to reenter through. Only by faith in the blood of Jesus and the power of His Spirit was I able to counteract the opening, closing it by way of the unveiling of the Father’s eternal, supernatural, multi-dimensional glory.
Psalm 139:8 “If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”