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Writer's pictureZaibel Torres

This is War- Power of Prayer




I'm in the final stages of the book. Every week I get back a chapter from the editor with edits and questions. It's been a very challenging process, but not the editing per se. It's been more the day-to-day life challenges that I have been confronted with since the release of this website releasing chapter one.


I did not expect to get the response Chapter One provided. It's been encouraging and uplifting. The random text messages from those saying they are proud and the silent DMs on social media from those confessing their secrets that were eating them up. Breakthrough was happening with Chapter One.

Each chapter was provided by God Himself, asking me to reveal a part of me that coincided with the scripture He delivered so I knew in the right hands, it would be received powerfully. But something happened that I did not expect.


My mother got a call from someone in our past who knew about the release of the book. In their conversation, she decided to tell my mom what my dad did to her as a child. The following morning, my mother sat with me at the kitchen table in tears, mortified. "How did I not see it?"

I called the victim to get the entire story, and as my dad's daughter, I gave her the apology she would never get from him, although she found it silly that I would apologize on his behalf. But it was important to me. It's important to me that the victims of such tragedy get an apology, as I know many never will. It was the only way I could honor my father and her at the same time, by giving her the apology she deserved and was owed.


However, the days that followed caught me by surprise. She was older than me; it had happened before me. So, in the days that followed, I fell into the trap, and my days had become dark.

"Had she said something, your life would have been different."

I replayed her story several times in my head. She was a kid, so I do not blame her silence as I know firsthand how children respond to such scenarios. But she was rescued by a family member, an adult who knew. I wrestled with that information. There were days where I thought, "well if she had said something when it happened, I would not have been born," and I had a brighter day based on that truth. But then the thought would creep back in that they knew me, they knew I was a silent scared child. Did they not suspect it was happening in our home too? Anger festered in my heart, the enemy took a foothold.


That is all the enemy needs, a foothold. It wasn't long before I started questioning all the men around me. The thought, "How well do you really know a person?" haunted me. Consequently, my husband paid a price for it. I questioned his every move and his morals. The world was getting ugly around me, and my days were filled with social media scrolling that only instilled fear in me. I was filtering life through fear not biblical truths. My husband did take notice and questioned if I was okay. But I couldn't tell him.


In my fear, I knew I was going crazy, and in my past, what men called crazy was my gut. It would only be a matter of time before the ugly truth would rear its ugly head, and I would be vindicated in my thoughts. I just had to wait it out. He asked me again, and I knew if I told him the darkness that was living in my head, it would only be ammunition to use against me later. I could not trust him with this part of me. This lasted for days, and the more I leaned on my heart and understanding, the darker it became..


It was then that I noticed the darkness. My poor husband had his own personal struggles, and I was tearing him apart with false accusations that had nothing to stand on but triggered thoughts. So I sought God. "God, help me!" I whimpered on the shower floor, envisioning the water washing me clean. Then it happened. I remembered how I ran from Joey in the beginning when he pursued me and how God said I needed to be his friend. I remembered telling God, "You pick my husband because I can't trust my heart." Confirmation after confirmation led me to an undeniable place that God was choosing Joey for me. How did I forget that? Why was I putting my trust in my thoughts?


I hurried from the bathroom to Joey and confided in him, revealing everything, fully aware that he could use it against me, see me as irrational, or be upset with me. However, he decided to forgive me and offered, "I anticipated spiritual attacks when I read your book, so I'm not shocked. Let me know how I can support you." I answered, "Please pray for me." He agreed, although he didn't pray at that moment; we simply acknowledged that he would do so.


That night, Joey came home from work late, covered in sawdust. He was standing over the kitchen table with two Bibles open. I knew what that meant. He had found something, and he had fallen down the rabbit hole of scriptures. I did not want to engage in conversation because I did not want to fall down that hole. I was tired and needed to be up early the next morning, so I went to bed.





MY DREAM


I dreamed that I was in my bed, but it wasn't my normal bedroom. The room was white, and my sheets were white. I was lying flat on my back because I had an injured leg. I looked to my left where I expected Joey to be, but instead, it was the younger version of Jim Carrey. Startled by this stranger in my bed, I saw a window behind him, and I could see straight into the parking lot. The parking lot was full, and there was a huge black truck pulling in. I could see Joey driving it and, frustrated because there was no parking, he parked the car behind other cars and walked straight into the apartment and into the room. Upon his entrance, he was holding a paper in his hand and with a firm, authoritative demeanor, one that held the threat of violence, he spoke, "Get out.".


Jim Carrey got up from the bed and looked at me as if looking for a defense. "This is his bed, get out," before he could make the exit, Joey said something profound, "You have been taking up my space here. I had to pay for your space and mine. So you pay the bill," and he handed him the paper for the parking space. Once he left, Joey crawled into the bed with me, bumping my injured leg. He asked, "Do you want me to leave?" to which I responded, "No, this feels safe."


Once I woke up, I wrote the dream down as I wanted to tell Joey everything that had happened, but he was asleep and I wanted to go to the gym. I felt clear-headed and knew that the dream was a God dream. I knew he was telling me something. Once back from the gym, Joey greeted me with a question, "How did you sleep?" which I found to be fishy. He knows I'm an avid dreamer and he is often the guy who says, "Bae, it's just a dream," but not today!


I told him about the dream, and he responded, "I can tell you what it means." At that point, I was like, "Who are you?" He proceeded to tell me that he had been studying prayer the night before, which was why he was up late reading scriptures. He said he felt a pull to pray for me, so he walked over to the bed and whispered a prayer, trying not to wake me. However, as he prayed, he mentioned that I started making noises as if there was a struggle in my dream. So, he prayed for the spirit that was tormenting me to leave me alone and for God to fill me up.


So let's break this down.

The apartment/rental - Temporary space.

The Bed - intimate space.

Jim Carrey - I often think of the role of the Riddler when I think of him.

The injured leg - I was spiritually wounded.

The black truck - What the police normally roll up in.

Joey - Exercising his authority.

The paper and what he said about paying for space - Joey was paying the price for his space in my head.


Corrected text:

It all made sense. That's why I felt so clear. The riddler was gone, the spirit was gone, I was delivered. Joey and I felt emotional the entire day. Joey needed the confirmation that he had the authority to lead in our home and that prayer was effective. And I needed deliverance. God revealed to me what was happening in my dream.


My life played out the way it was supposed to play out. God calls everyone, but not everyone responds. But this girl will. Had it played out differently, my dad would not have his redemption story. Had it played out differently, I would not have met God in such a supernatural way. Had it played out differently, there would not be a book. And the book is not the end goal; the goal is that all the girls who read it just like me are led to the feet of Christ.

For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14

I don't know God's plans for this book that will soon launch, but I do know the enemy doesn't like that it's being released. Keep us in prayer because this is war, but now we are ready for it. I'm no longer in the dark about it.


When you face challenges, remember to surround yourself with supportive people who will uplift you. Be open about your struggles and allow others to pray for you. Confession is key for receiving the right kind of support. Stay strong and never lose hope, for you are destined for victory over your enemy. Turn the tables on your adversities and use them to defeat your enemies. Remember, you are a warrior in the battlefield of life. This is war!



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