Lance Christopher: Blog

Tucked away on our small mining claim an hour north of Reno, the travel trailer we called home looked so small and vulnerable.

 

Luminous in the glow of a huge full moon, the scars of use by a young family of five were softened.

 

It almost seemed to blend into this rugged, high desert valley.

 

We had towed it over miles of grinding dirt-rock roads only six months before, and settled it near a creek, where wild horses drank each evening.

 

Behind our dwelling, a steep hill broke sharply from the sand and sage brush.

 

With great ceremony, the kid’s named the hill “Dog Mountain”, for to their wide eyes, the rock formation at the top was the exact likeness of a barking dog.

 

Tonight that likeness was a dark silhouette carved into a surreal sky.

 

Stepping out of my tiny, banana yellow Honda, I stretched my aching limbs.

 

I was finally home for the night.

 

Giving my two Australian Shepherds, Blue Boy, and Aspen some loving scratches, I smiled as their litter of drowsy, two week old puppies snuggled in a fluffy heap.

 

The back of the Honda was pregnant with twenty gallons of water for our daily needs, five gallons of gasoline for the generator, and milk for baby Kaeli-Anne who was three, Ethan who was five, and Abbi who was seven.

 

My jacket, zipped against the autumn chill, held a special dark chocolate bar for my twenty five year old, still blushing bride, Michelle.

 

I hated how little I could do for her, for my kids, for the small congregation we had started the year before with a church planting team.

 

The ache deep in my core was especially taunting at times like this.

 

The front door swung open and Michelle’s cry of welcome crowned the night.

 

“Oh Honey, I was so worried. I didn’t know if the car had broken down or you had been hit with another seizure. Praise God you are here safe and sound!”

 

Her arms encircled my waist and the beautiful fragrance of her filled my exhausted senses.

 

I mumbled, “yeah, it’s tough not having any phone service. I had to work late and then I got stuck at the church board meeting. But I have the water and gas, and a little something for you.”

 

With an embarrassed smile, I handed her the chocolate.

 

Her pleasure at my simple gift seemed disproportionately large, but she was always so thankful, even for the smallest things.

 

The ache throbbed dully.

 

But we knew we were where God wanted us to be for this season.

 

The clear direction of God’s leading had been undeniable and miraculous.

 

This was our assignment until we heard otherwise.

 

We prayed.

 

We learned.

 

We endured.

 

As usual, Michelle and I worked together to fill the generator with fuel and it was a relief when it hummed to life and the electric heater started inside.

 

It would take the chill off the children’s sleeping area.

 

I could see all three of them through the window, wrapped in colorful blankets, bouncing up and down.

 

Their smiling voices called, “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

 

As we filled the water tank, Michelle’s eyes held mine .

 

Her trust and concern made her irresistible and I filled up on a quick kiss.

 

I took her hands and earnestly spoke, “I’m adjusting to the seizure meds and I’m okay. God gave us a promise and we aren’t backing down. My healing is right around the corner. With you, the kids, and our church family praying... I’m in good hands, right?”

 

“Hmmm...”

 

She studied me for a moment shivering as she spoke, “Let’s get inside. You need some dinner. I’ve got some rice and vegetables and some lunch meat. I can heat it up for you on the stove! Thank God for the generator.”

 

I was quite hungry.

 

As my wife cooked, I laid back on my bed, the kids piling in on top of me for tickles and hugs.

 

After a hot meal, I prayed with them, and listened as Michelle sang all three to sleep.

 

However, something just did not feel right.

 

As Michelle prepared for bed, I excused myself and stepped back out into the night.

 

It was after 11pm and the moon’s light had grown in intensity.

 

Closing my eyes, I prayed for a while in the Spirit.

 

“Father, something is wrong. I feel afraid tonight. . . For my family. Please show me what to do.”

 

The week before, we had discovered the existence of a large compound with armed guards and strong fences about fifteen miles away from our isolated claim.

 

The sense of evil from that place was hard to fathom.

 

We later found out that it was owned by a large satanist group and they were quite secretive in their operations.

 

Even with our faithful dogs standing guard, I had genuine concern for my family, since most days I was gone until after nightfall.

 

Sending my plea heavenward, I waited for some response from the Lord.

 

Blue Boy paced around the trailer nervously, and all I heard was the thrum of the generator and the wail of a coyote on the hillside.

 

I went back inside.

 

Later, when Michelle was asleep, I slipped out of bed and onto my knees.

 

The uncomfortable foreboding had intensified, “Oh Father,” I groaned. “What do I do?”

 

Quoting the twenty third psalm from memory, I dozed off.

 

Awakening to stabbing pain in my knees, I crawled back into bed and fell into fitful sleep.

 

Then something touched my leg. . .

 

I was so tired.

 

I did not feel like opening my eyes.

 

There it was again. . .

 

This time more insistent.

 

One of the kids must want a drink. I thought grumpily.

 

Exhaling loudly, I looked up and froze in terror.

 

A man sat on the end of my bed staring at me from the darkness.

 

I could not speak or breathe, and my chest hurt as a vise clamped my heart in ice.

 

“Get up. I have been sent to warn you that you and your family are in great danger. The enemy has launched an attack against you - a spirit of death and destruction. We have been sent to protect your property, but you must leave now. Take your family to your mother’s home. You will be safe there. Do not wait. Do it right now. If you stay, we can not protect you. So, go.”

 

I gasped as I sat up, eyes wide in disbelief, trying to process what was happening.

 

I choked out the words, “Who are you?”

 

His response was simple and terse, “A messenger of the Most High God. Move quickly. There is little time.”

 

I was trembling, but before I could say anything more, he was gone.

 

With a hard swallow, I shook Michelle, “Sweety, did you hear him?”

 

She sat up with a start, “Hear who?”

 

I groaned.

 

“We have to get the kids up right now. Grab whatever we will need for a few days. We have to go to Mama’s house.”

 

Consternation filled her face, “Honey, it is two in the morning...”

 

My voice was loud even to me, “I think it was an angel. We have to leave now. You get the kids up and ready while I start warming the car.”

 

“What about the dogs?”

 

“There is no room. We will just have to pray over them and make sure they have food and water.”

 

I quickly dressed and went outside.

 

In little more than minutes, the kids were bundled into the car and crying.

 

I was packing the back with bags and tensely explaining more of what had happened to a very troubled wife.

 

“I know it sounds crazy... I’m really freaked out myself. But we are NOT staying. Mama is only two hours south, and we are out of here.”

 

Michelle got in the car as I locked up the trailer.

 

Taking the driver’s seat and roaring down that terrible dirt road, all Michelle said was, “I am scared.”

 

Thirty minutes later we hit pavement and highway 395.

 

The little ones had settled down and I looked at my wife, “Mama is going to be surprised.”

 

“Should we stop at a phone booth and call her?”

 

“No. . . Let’s just get there. You know how hard she sleeps. She would never hear the phone. We will probably have a tough time getting her awake to answer the door.”

 

Michelle had lots of questions for which I did not have answers.

 

It had transpired so quickly.

 

However, the angel’s message was engraved in my psyche.

 

We prayed and sang softly as we drove, feeling like very small voices in a very big drama.

 

Without fanfare, we wearily pulled into my mother’s driveway in the tired town of Gardnerville.

 

The kids were mercifully sleeping, so Michelle and I quietly went to the door and knocked.

 

We had decided to just tell her the truth - all that had happened - hoping she would understand or at least not right us off as completely wacky.

 

What happened next will forever be etched in our memories.

 

The door flung open and Mama stood there her hands on her hips and her eyes filled with concern.

 

Her tired voice shot out, “And what took you so long? I sent that angel to get you hours and hours ago... Well, thank God you are FINALLY here!”

 

Michelle and I gaped at her in disbelief.

 

We were stunned.

 

I had not spoken with my mother in over a week.

 

She rolled her eyes and continued, “Come on. Get the kids inside. The sun is almost up.”

 

Staring at her, I stammered incredulously, “You sent an angel to get us?”

 

She cocked her head, “Of course, I was praying and felt you were all in danger. For your safety, I believed God wanted you down here with me. The Bible says that angels are ministering spirits sent forth to minister for us. I needed one to go get you. I sent him in Jesus’ name. Here you are. Praise God!”

 

She obviously did not see how this was hard to grasp.

 

In light of what had occurred back at the trailer on the foot of my bed, her no-nonsense application of this Scripture from Hebrews 1:14 made real sense.

 

We gathered the children and tucked them into bed, and with a big sigh of relief, we all went to sleep praising the Lord.

 

Later, I asked my mother if she had actually seen the angel she had sent.

 

She answered with a laugh, “No. I did not need to see him. I did it by faith. If God’s Word says I have authority to do something, then I do it and trust God with the results.”

 

Two days passed and we all felt it was time to go back to the mining claim.

 

Pulling up to the property, Michelle and I were more than a little anxious.

 

We were concerned about our dogs, and we had no idea what we would find.

 

As we all got out of the car, Blue Boy and Aspen met us with worried looks.

 

The midday sun was clear and bright and we could see a number of puppies on short, wobbly legs by the entrance to their house.

 

At first glance, everything looked fine and undisturbed.

 

I went to check inside the trailer, and Michelle went to check the dogs’ water and food.

 

Unlocking the door, I stepped inside.

 

It was still chilly from the night before, but seemed normal enough.

 

As I turned to step back out the door, I heard Michelle cry out, “Lance, please come here.”

 

Her voice was broken and tense.

 

I ran to where she stood looking down into the large five gallon bucket we used for the adult dogs’ water.

 

The puppies had their own shallow water dish that looked a little low, but was undisturbed.

 

She had her hand over her mouth and tears filled her eyes.

 

To my shock, three small puppies floated lifeless in the half empty bucket.

 

“How did they get in there?” I shuddered. “There is no way they could have gotten in there on their own. The bucket is way too tall. Someone or something had to have done this. . .”

 

Those puppies were only sixteen days old.

 

That five gallon bucket was seven times taller than any one of them.

 

It was simply a physical impossibility for them to have climbed in unassisted.

 

Abbi was crying angrily and holding Ethan and Kaeli-Anne tightly to herself.

 

Through her tears, her voice rose shrilly, “Somebody mean was bad - so bad!”

 

I spoke softly to my wife, “I will start the generator. Take the kids indoors and comfort them. I need to look around for some evidence of what happened. I will bury the puppies.”

 

As I studied the ground, circling our property repeatedly, it was clear that the only tire tracks for miles were ours.

 

No other vehicle had been anywhere near us.

 

Furthermore, the only footprints were from our own shoes.

 

No other person had walked anywhere on or near our property.

 

Clearly, no one had been there since we had left two days before.

 

I felt an ugly chill slither up my spine.

 

I had no explanation in the natural realm.

 

No human had drowned those puppies.

 

The angel’s words cut a burning swath across my thoughts, “...you and your family are in great danger. The enemy has launched an attack against you - a spirit of death and destruction...”

 

After tying up Blue Boy and Aspen, I gathered the three beautiful puppies, wrapped their still forms in a towel, and cleaned and refilled the water bucket.

 

Then I bent down, and picked up my shovel, my conclusions, and the crude burial shroud heavier than it’s weight.

 

 

With a small “what do we do now?" prayer sent to heaven, I walked out of sight to dig a small grave.

 

Soon after that day, we pulled out of there for good.

 

God moved through a series of further curious events, and we relocated to a comfortable townhouse next to our church.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Just last night, as we celebrated our daughter, Abbi’s, twenty second birthday, we gave my mother a phone call.

 

She still lives in the very same house in Gardnerville, Nevada.

 

Gathered in our home in Tennessee, and using the loudspeaker feature on my phone, we were able to all reminisce about that time.

 

With fresh wonder, we considered again how powerful prayer really is.

 

Mama remembered how amazed she was at the fact that I had actually seen the angel!

 

We remembered how amazed we were that she had actually sent the angel!

 

All of us stood in awe at the way God put everything together to protect and guide us.

 

The puppies were a sad loss, but also a graphic reminder of how real the warfare can be.

 

Concerning angels, Hebrews 1:14 states, “Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to minister for those who will inherit salvation?”

 

I am fascinated and impressed at how my mother applied this Scripture.

 

Her faith and obedience to what she believed God wanted her to do - even to command - opened up an extreme deliverance for us.

 

I am convinced that we were spared a terrible family tragedy!

 

May God give us all greater boldness to unlock the promises of Scripture.

 

And may we have the courage and faith to apply them by the leading of the Holy Spirit to our unique circumstances.

 

The Word of God IS living and powerful, indeed!

 

Oh yes, right before this event, I had been diagnosed with epilepsy and put on high doses of dilantin to control the severe seizures that had become almost daily occurrences.

 

For two years we stood in faith for God’s touch, and finally it manifested!

 

I stopped the medication and had to prove the healing to keep my driver’s license.

 

No problem for God!

 

Every test came back normal and I was given a clean bill of health!

 

My VA medical records still hold the proof of the healing!

 

God is so faithful.

 

In Him,