God has been taking me to the end of myself and is starting to peel back some layers that I have ever so diligently been trying to keep intact.
Truth be told, I liked my layers. They protected me from the elements and they’re kind of cozy if you don’t mind snuggling in dysfunction, which apparently I didn’t.
But seasons change and now those layers that used to feel so comfy are choking me. There are days when I want to throw them all off at once, but God is patiently removing one layer at a time and clothing me in His truth. Today’s layer has to do with an orphan spirit. If you’ve been there, you know the feeling. You don’t belong anywhere, to anyone. You feel left out. Forgotten. Abandoned. It’s more than loneliness because it can actually be worse when you’re surrounded by people. They all seem to fit in with each other, but you…well, you don’t. You’re not one of them.
The orphan spirit can drive you to do all kinds of self-destructive things in a desperate attempt to find your tribe. Enough said.
My grandfather actually was an orphan and even though he married and had five children, he lived his life to the very end as a sad, fatherless child. God reminded me of this because the peeling process is painful (alliteration unintended). He wanted me to know that the hurt is a necessary alternative to a life of fruitless wandering.
As I was talking to Him about this orphan stuff and where it might have come from, I saw a picture of what the orphan spirit looked like. Just to be clear, I’m not saying I see spirits or demons. I’m just describing what popped into my mind as I was praying—a fat but sickly and shapeless overgrown baby. A big fat blob of a being that was attached to my side and feeding off me. As quickly as the image appeared, I wanted it gone. It was disgusting.
It hit me that this is a perversion of pregnancy, where you nurture the life within you for a time in order to ensure a healthy, whole, and separate human being. In contrast, you don’t give birth to this orphan spirit thing. It just continues to suck the life out of you, growing ever fatter, while you are diminished. You never deliver it. You get delivered from it.
What I saw was so grotesque that I immediately ran to Ephesians one and read aloud God’s declaration: He has chosen me from before the foundations of the world. I have been set apart and God sees me as His precious, unblemished child. Through Jesus I have been adopted as a daughter and, as such, share in His inheritance. I have a Father. A Brother. And a Tribe.
For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are the children of God. | Romans 8:15-16