After leaving the favela on Sunday afternoon I wanted to immediately sit down and start writing. So much was going through my head and my heart that I wanted to record it so I wouldn’t forget the emotions.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I went for a walk on the beach with my wife at sunset, had a very good cup of Brazilian coffee, then went to bed.
Satan is real. His dominion is appalling. The burden he imposes is overwhelming. The hellhole in Fortaleza was a wonderful example of all of that.
As was the wasted, empty eyes of the 10 year old crackhead in Tianguá, the 12 year old mother of two who nightly sold her body to passing truckers so she wouldn’t starve to death in Boca de Fumo, the sweet 16 year old who’d been sexually abused and locked away in a bedroom for years in Ubaúna or the little 8 year old who’d been horribly raped and internally mutilated as a 4 year old by her stepfather.
It’s not a game or some fairy tale. The Enemy plays for keeps. If he can make us think that it isn’t real or not that pressing, he can continue to create hellholes.
However, the Spirit spoke louder than the Enemy that afternoon. Righteous anger is useful and necessary. But I can be at peace.
His eyes are like a fiery flame and there are many diadem crowns on his head… the armies that are in heaven… were following him on white horses. From his mouth extends a sharp sword, so that with it he can strike the nations. He will rule them with an iron rod, and he stomps the winepress of the furious wrath of God, the All-Powerful.